Almost Human

Almost Human

Chapter 4

A week later, Severus arrived in the Charms classroom when lessons had ended for the day to find Professor Flitwick flying around the room in Draco's new wheelchair.

The diminutive Charms teacher was standing up on the seat, holding onto the back, as if the thing was a chariot. "Professor!" Snape bellowed. "That is not a toy!"

Flitwick waved gaily at him and steered the wheelchair into a figure eight. "Whee!"

"Flitwick! Stop that at once!"

Flitwick, looking affronted, landed the chair and climbed down. "I was only having a little fun, Severus."

"The authorization from the Ministry says the chair will hover no more than two feet from the ground. And it's my name on the paperwork."

"They're hardly going to haul you off to Azkaban for a flying chair," Flitwick complained.

"You, they might not."

"Well." Flitwick waved his wand. "I'll just adjust the hover charm." He did so. "There, that should be fine. How is Draco?"

"Better."

"And you?"

"All I had was a cut on my hand." It had been a bite, but that wasn't important.

"Are you sure that was all?"

Severus hated being asked about his feelings. Especially if people thought they were being clever about it. "Quite," he said icily.

#

"It's really brilliant, Professor," Draco said for the third or fourth time. "Thanks." Professor Snape was showing him how to work the charms on his new wheelchair.

Even he didn't find his tone convincing. Really, now that it had come up to it, he wasn't at all sure that he wanted to go around the school looking like a cripple.

Granted, he was a cripple, but that didn't mean he wanted to look like one.

On the other hand, he was more than ready to get out of the hospital wing.

"Do you want me to help you get into it?" Snape was asking.

"Uh....no, I'll have to be able to do it myself, won't I." He had only been confined to bed for about two weeks, so he hadn't lost much of his Quidditch-player's musculature. It oughtn't to be too hard. He sat up and dragged his legs over the side of the bed.

That turned out to be the easy part.

After several attempts, he managed somehow to fling himself into the wheelchair.

Even looking at the hospital wing from a vertical perspective made a nice change. "Okay, lets go somewhere."

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes." It only took a moment for Draco to relearn how to work the chair's basic manual controls--how to push the wheels and different speeds to make turns, and brake with the heel of his hand.

Once, racing Jenna with Lydia in his lap, he'd gotten his fingers caught into the spokes. That was the sort of mistake a fellow only made once.

"All right," Snape said, "But if you fall out of that thing in front of people, that's your problem."

"Deal." But as it turned out, he had a chance to practice a little before appearing in public as he wheeled down the charms corridor.

"Do you plan on going to classes tomorrow?"

"What day is it, Monday?" Draco asked. "I don't see why not." He was staying awake most of the day now.

"You've been badly injured. No one will hold it against you if you want more time to recover."

"I'll go to the morning ones, and see how it goes. If I don't feel up to the afternoon lessons--" he shrugged.

He was thinking about last term, when he'd been humiliated and angry and wanted to hide, and Snape had said he was going to lessons whether he liked it or not. It would be reassuring if he'd do that now.

"If you're sure you want to," Snape said instead.

"Hey--isn't it dinner time?" The bells were ringing. He'd been ignoring them for days, but yes, that was them. "What are we waiting for?"

"Are you sure you want to--"

"Yes."

Going down stairs in the wheelchair was going to take some getting used to. He was fairly sure it was safe--the Professor wouldn't have allowed it if it wasn't--but floating down a staircase in a chair didn't seem right somehow. He was glad to be on level ground again.

As he rolled into the Great Hall, he could have sworn there was a momentary pause in conversation as everyone turned to look at him.

Or not. Somebody said, "Shit, Snape's back," and was shushed by his Housemates.

Draco wheeled himself to the Gryffindor table, where he usually sat these days. "Hi guys."

"Draco! Hi!" Granger said.

"Hullo," Neville echoed.

"Yeah," Potter said moodily. "Hi." Weasley just glared.

"I didn't know you were out of the hospital wing," Granger said brightly.

"Just now," Draco said.

"That's terrific."

"Isn't it?"

Granger rearranged the plates and silverware to make room for him. "What do you want to eat? Let me know and I'll get it for you. There's beef casserole--"

"I'm not blind." Between Dobby and Madame Pomfrey, Draco had had about enough of being fussed over.

"Hey," Weasley said. "She's trying to help, Malfoy, you don't have to be such a git about it."

"It's all right, Ron." Grarger looked embarrassed.

"No it isn't!"

While they were fighting, Draco got his plate back from Granger and helped himself from the nearest serving dishes. He'd have to find out what had happened to his wand. If he still had one. He'd asked Madame Pomfrey once, and she'd said, "Never you mind, you're not strong enough to do any magic yet."

He found some dinner rolls and salad, and discretely signaled Longbottom to pass the casserole. Meanwhile, Granger and Weasley had gotten off the subject of Draco and onto something stupid Weasley had said about the way she was filling out her robes.

"--not the sort of compliment a girl likes to be paid. Honestly, if you--"

"Sorry, Granger," Draco interrupted her.

She and Weasley both turned to look at him. "What did you say?" Weasley demanded.

"Sorry I snapped at you." He turned on the Malfoy Charm, half strength. "I've had a rough week."

"That's all right," she said. "I understand."

"I'm going to lessons tomorrow," he said, feeling like he was bragging a little.

"That's nice," said Hermione politely.

#

"And whose idea was this little excursion?"

"Mine," Draco said cheerfully.

"You ought to have stopped him," Madame Pomfrey told the Professor.

"I don't see why. He's strong enough to be up and about."

Draco started collecting his things. Fruit, chocolate frogs, spare pajamas, class notes.

"What do you think you're doing?" the nurse demanded.

"Going back to my rooms."

"You are not!"

He ignored her. "I bet Snuffy will be glad to see me, don't you think?" He might sleep better with company, too. He hoped so, anyway.

Snape hesitated fractionally before he said, "I'm sure. Maybe you should stay here one more night. Just to be sure?"

"Sure of what?"

But Madame Pomfrey was enthusiastically accepting this proposal. "Yes. I'll examine him in the morning, and if this little stunt hasn't done him any harm, then we'll see about moving back to your rooms."

"All right," he agreed, without much enthusiasm. "One more night."

#

Once Draco had settled down to sleep, Severus hurried down to his rooms. It would probably only take a minute to put Snuffles to rights.

But Transfiguration had never been his strong suit. He had better give himself plenty of time, in case it took more than one try.

And it did. First he tried turning the teapot into a marmot, and sort of stopping halfway through--that was how Draco had created the animate teapot in the first place. But he ended up with something with the back half of a marmot and the front half of a teapot. He tried again, and got something close to Draco's pet teapot, but without the spots. He kept trying.

A dozen or so attempts produced a creatures that was similar to, but not exactly identical to, the original Snuffles. By two AM, he had to admit that he was not longer exactly sure what Draco's pet had looked like.

The reasonable thing to do would be to have Draco change Snuffy back. He was sure to remember exactly what the creature had looked like. But while turning Draco's pet back into a teapot had seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do when he'd done it, the more time went by, the worse he felt about it. Draco had trusted him to take care of his pet, and even Severus knew perfectly well that dusting it wasn't what he meant.

#

Draco was ashy white, almost as he had been that night at Ragier Manor. "What did you do to him?" he asked, holding the teapot against his chest.

"I...turned him into a teapot."

"Why?" Draco asked bleakly.

Now he was sure he'd rather answer "why he'd saved Draco" than "why he'd turned the teapot back into a teapot."

"I don't know. I thought I could put him back how he was before you knew."

Draco stared at him. "You killed him," he said flatly.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's not even really alive."

"You killed him!" Draco insisted, his voice rising in both pitch and volume. "You killed Snuffles!"

People were going to hear him. Snape stepped closer.

"Murderer!" Draco was crying now, but he didn't seem to notice. "I should have known you'd....It's what you do, isn't it? Kill things?" he asked bitterly.

"Draco, you're overreacting." It had been a mistake, but the thing was just a teapot. "Turn him back how he was, or better yet get an owl or something. A toad, even. That thing had to be the stupidest pet I've ever seen."

"Don't talk about him like that! He was my friend."

"He was your teapot," Snape said scornfully.

"Get out! I hate you! Get out!" He was screaming now, and the Pomfrey woman appeared. Saying something about upsetting the patient, she ushered him out the door.

He stood in the corridor for a long time. He couldn't hear much, just Draco saying, "Killed Snuffy," "Murderer," and "hate him," and the murmur of Poppy's voice as she tried to soothe him.

#

In the break between the first lesson of the morning and the second, Minerva sought out Severus in his lair--She allowed herself the indulgence of thinking of it that way--and found him roughly shelving ingredients and muttering imprecations against the general stupidity of students everywhere.

"I was expecting to see Draco in my lesson this morning. Has he had a relapse?" That would account for Snape's temper, which was unusually foul.

"I neither know nor care what he does," Severus said icily, and Minerva couldn't help but remember a time he'd said the same thing about James Potter.

At the time, she'd chosen to believe him.

"Severus, what happened?" she asked now.

He glared at her over his shoulder and continued attacking his stores. But he did answer, in a way. "It's like the story about the serpent...he knew I was a murderer when he took up with me. Didn't he?"

Minerva decided to assume, just for the moment, that he hadn't lost his mind.

"It's not exactly a secret. Is it?" He turned around then, and looked at her as if he expected an answer.

"No," she said carefully. What had he told Draco?

"But it was all right, when I was just killing actual human beings. Now that I've murdered his teapot, all of the sudden it's a problem."

Minerva was on the cusp of abandoning her hasty presumption of Severus's sanity when she remembered the Granger girl telling her about a party Draco had held after the exhibition match. "His teapot. The Transfigured one."

"What did you do to it?" Even if he had broken it, it would be simple enough to repair.

"I turned it back into a teapot," he said stiffly.

McGonagall waited for more. "And?"

"And." Severus brooded for a moment before admitting, "And I couldn't put it back how it was."

She had to be missing something. "And?"

"And he was very attached to it!" Severus snapped, and went back to his shelving. "I know I shouldn't have done it."

"Why did you?"

"He asked me to take care of it. While he was sick."

"So instead you..."

"Turned it back into a teapot."

Now she thought she understood. "What were you thinking?"

"That I could put it back how it was before I gave it back to him, and he'd never know."

That had been very foolish of him--but she was convinced the situation wasn't as dire as he was painting it. "So you gave it back to him?" Perhaps he'd tried something else, and the teapot really was destroyed.

"Yes. And he called me a murderer and threw me out."

"I don't suppose it occurred to either of you to seek the advice of a TraNsfiguration expert before giving up?" The idea of Severus Snape coming to her for help was, frankly, laughable, but surely Severus knew that Albus had taught Transfiguration before becoming Headmaster. "Honestly. Men. I'll go and resurrect the teapot, and then you can have a go at making him a decent apology."

In the hospital wing, Draco was still in bed--the new wheelchair apparently forgotten--holding a brown earthenware teapot to his chest.

"If he sent you," the boy said rebelliously, "I'm not interested."

"Circe save me from ill-tempered bairns," Minerva murmured.

Draco looked up at her dolefully. "I don't have to go to lessons if I don't feel up to it, and I don't."

"Indeed. Professor Snape said you were having some trouble with your teapot."

"If you mean Snape killing him, yes."

"Yes. Well, we might be able to fix it."

He looked hopeful for a moment, but then said stubbornly, "It won't be the same."

"We'll see," she said.

"I mean, he won't be the same. He wasn't alive before, and even if I transfigure him again--which I could do if somebody would tell me where my wand is--he wouldn't be the same."

"You mean his personality." If teapots had personalities.

"Ye-es," Draco said slowly. "I guess you could call it that."

"Yu know," she said, 'That's an issue I hadn't considered. I'm not aware of any research concerning whether objects transfigured into creatures retain personality characteristics after being restored to their original state. You may be right." She thought. "So the thing to do is to undo the restoration spell, as well as anything Severus did to try to transfigure him back. You're familiar with finite incantatem, of course."

"Yes, but--"

"We can't use that, you're right. But there's a related spell--abrogare incantatem--that annuls other spells. Makes it as if they never happened. It's rather tricky--I'm not surprised Professor Snape didn't think of it." She took out her wand.

And Draco flattened against his pillows, his eyes wide, his breath coming in quick gasps like a trapped animal. It only lasted a second, and then he straightened up, looking sheepish. "Sorry. I--you startled me."

"It's all right. Now, watch. Abrogare Incantatem."

The teapot's spout lengthened and moved around, and it sprouted dense white fur.

"That's not Snuffy," Draco said.

"Tell me when I get to him." Minerva repeated the spell several times, changing the teapot back and forth between plain clay and various animate forms.

"Stop!" Draco cried, when the teapot had black and white spotted fur and four wriggling feet. "That's him."

"Are you sure?" Not that it really mattered, she supposed, as long as Draco thought he had his pet back.

"Yes. I remember these three spots, where his lid was. Are you okay, Snuffy?"

The teapot snuffled at his fingers.

"It's okay, I won't let the bad man turn you into a teapot again." He glanced up from his pet. "Thanks, Professor McGonagall."

"You're welcome. Now--I hope you'll forgive Professor Snape. He's--well, you know how he is."

"Yes," Draco said darkly, "I do."

#

"Draco?" Severus stood in the hospital wing doorway.

"Go away." Draco's voice sounded muffled, but not teary.

"McGonagall told me she fixed your teapot."

"Yes. I still don't like you. Go away."

"I'm sorry," he said. "It was stupid of me."

"Yes. It was. Go away."

Severus hesitated.

"I'll scream," he said, and Severus wished he was joking, because it was such a ridiculous thing to say.

"Fine. I'll come back and check on you later."

"Don't bother," Draco said.