Shake the disease

Shake the Disease

Part two

by

Logospilgrim

Rated PG-13 (some violence).

Disclaimer: I'm only playing with J.K. Rowling's wonderful toys. I promise I won't break them, or leave them out in the rain.

Then, she stopped reading.

"Professor Snape?"

He kept his eyes closed and his mouth shut.

"Sir?"

Get out of here already, Miss Granger. Can't you tell I'm sleeping?

"Well, I... I'll just wish you a good night, Professor."

Bravo.

He strained to hear her walking out of the room -did she have to be so bloody quiet?

Then he felt her hand on his for a second... Less than a second. He just about jumped out of his skin in surprise.

Once he was sure she'd gone, he reached over to the bedside table and groped for that glass of ginger ale he knew was there, but only succeeded in knocking it over; it shattered on the floor.

Aw, CRAP.

Right on cue, the Gryffindor came running back in the room, joined almost immediately by Pomfrey. The mediwitch's nightcap was askew and her wand was at the ready.

"Severus! Are you all right? I thought you were watching him, Miss Granger-"

"He -he fell asleep, Madam Pomfrey, and I didn't... I thought it'd be better to... I was afraid I'd wake him..."

"Poppy, stop pestering the girl," Snape said, his voice barely audible. "I was just thirsty." He grimaced and clutched his neck.

"Do you want me to muzzle you?" Pomfrey said, clearing the mess with a wave of her wand. "Let me see how bad it is. Open your mouth. Open it!"

Snape seethed but did as she asked.

"Lumos," Pomfrey said. "The back of your throat is absolutely raw."

He shrugged impatiently.

"I'm going to give you a hot drink with honey, and then I want you to get some sleep, is that clear?" She felt his forehead and took his pulse. "All I can say is, keep this up and oh, you and I will get to know each other more than we ever thought possible."

Alarm flitted across his face.

"You get the picture, Severus."

He turned his back to her and slammed his head in the pillow, a gesture that was followed by a groan.

Pomfrey sighed. Impossible man.

Hermione peeked from behind the curtain where she'd taken refuge. "Uh, Madam Pomfrey..."

"Oh, Hermione. Goodness, I'd forgotten you were here," Pomfrey said. "You can go back to your room and get some rest, dear. I'm afraid Professor Snape is too much of a handful at the moment."

Snape threw the sheets over his head.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, and hurried out of the room.

Pomfrey returned to Snape's bedside with a cup of hot chamomile tea. "Here, Severus. I think you'll like this."

The lump in the bed refused to budge.

"Oh, for pity's sake," Pomfrey said. She set the cup down, gripped him beneath the arms and maneuvered the weakened man into a sitting position. Satisfied that he was comfortable, she blew out her breath and grabbed the steaming cup of tea.

"Now, if you're quite through sulking, drink this. It'll soothe that throat of yours."

He raised his head from the pillows a fraction, then let it fall back in defeat.

"Let me help you," she said.

He gave her a baleful look.

"Fine, then. Fend for yourself, you intolerable grouch. I'm-"

She was about to get up and storm out of the room when she saw the indignant expression on his features melt into one of utter wretchedness.

"All right, Severus. I'm sorry. You really have a way of testing my bedside manners to the limit, do you know that? Let's try again."

She put another pillow behind his head, blew on the hot drink a few times, and brought the cup to his mouth. "Here. Little sips."

He obeyed at first, then she had to tip the cup to match his thirst.

"Good, wasn't it? I put some clover honey in there for you," Pomfrey said.

He blinked slowly and mouthed, thank you.

"You're welcome." She frowned and touched his cheeks. "Still feverish. Nothing like a virus to take the edge off a worn-out Potions Master, is there?"

A faint smirk curved his lips.

"That's more like it. Feeling sleepy now?"

He nodded.

"I'll be in the next room, but I'll check on you again soon. Try to get some rest."

She tucked him in, watched him drift to sleep, and went back to bed.

****

Dawn greeted a Potions Master and a mediwitch whose eyes were bloodshot and whose moods were definitely of a nasty persuasion. Snape had woken up in the middle of the night nearly coughing his lungs out, a condition soon combined with a nasal congestion that had left him practically unable to breathe.

It wasn't long before Pomfrey was also muttering unflattering remarks about "that Muggle crap" and sneering at the empty medicine packets, not to mention the mound of crumpled tissues, that littered the bedside table.

Of course, in Snape's case, it came out more like "that Muggle grab."

"Oh, my," Dumbledore said when he came in the Hospital Ward. However, his exclamation was drowned out by the great honking sound of Snape blowing his nose for what appeared to be the one hundredth time.

"Ugh," Snape said, and flopped back against his pillows. "Uuuuugh..."

"Rough night?" Dumbledore asked Pomfrey.

She scowled in a manner worthy of Snape himself. "How very perceptive of you, Headmaster."

"I gather the alternative treatment wasn't as effective as we'd hoped."

"Ged oud!" Snape said. His fingers closed around a handful of soiled tissues which he attempted to hurl at Dumbledore, to little effect. "Ged-" His voice cracked and he began coughing until his face turned red.

"Now, now, Severus, Pomfrey's doing her best-"

Snape's hand fumbled for a glass of water; he gulped part of the clear liquid down, coughing so much that he spilled half of it on his chest in the process.

"Oh, so this is my fault, is it?" Pomfrey said. She stomped towards Dumbledore and thrust her finger at him. "Who shipped Severus to You-Know-Who's torture jamborees time and time again? Who's responsible for the fact he's had more healing potions pumped into him than any professor in history?"

"Poppy, you're exhausted. Why don't you let me watch over Severus for a while."

She glared at him, but then her shoulders slumped. "Albus, this is impossible. I can't treat him properly without potions."

"He's a sturdy lad. He's just going through the worst of it right now."

Snape blew his nose yet again, the noise almost loud enough to rattle the window panes.

"Maybe... I should give one of those Muggle remedies another go," Pomfrey said.

"That's the spirit," Dumbledore said. "Then go lie down a bit."

Pomfrey rubbed her tired face and sorted through the haphazard collection of bottles on the bedside table. "Severus, here. A brand we haven't tried yet. Decongestant... Cough suppressant. It's got potential."

"Not bloody likely," Snape said. He shifted on the mattress and groaned. If he could just get some sleep... "Uuugh."

"Come on, professor, humor me. I'm at my wits end."

"Fide." He sniffed and opened his mouth, too weary to oppose her. He made a face as he swallowed, and said, "And I thought potions tasted like shid."

"Nice to finally hear you admit to that after all these years," Pomfrey said. She fluffed his pillows and rearranged his blankets. "Do try to get some shut eye, Severus. This medicine is supposed to make you drowsy."

He gave her a look of deep skepticism. Then he sighed and nodded.

"If he needs anything, Headmaster, come and wake me," Pomfrey said.

"I'm sure we'll manage for a couple of hours, Poppy."

She glanced at Snape one more time, as if to make certain she'd done everything she possibly could, and left the room.

"Well, Severus, I'll just sit right here and keep you company while you sleep," Dumbledore said, pulling the chair closer to the bed. "Perhaps I can entertain you with a few tales of what's been going on in your class since you fell ill."

Snape's face was torn between scorn and alarm.

"The students -well, the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, to be more precise- have been making life a living hell for your temporary replacement. They're disgusted with said wizard's abilities and have been hard at work exposing his mediocre potions skills by outdoing him at every opportunity. They've also been praising you... How did Gilderoy put it? 'At interminable length.'"

Snape was speechless.

"Oh, and wouldn't you know it, Harry, Ron, and Hermione teamed up with Draco and a few other Slytherins, and Fred and George Weasley of course, and 'accidentally' turned poor Gilderoy into a peacock. According to the rumors, that is."

A smile wavered on Snape's lips.

"I thought that would cheer you," Dumbledore said. "We've been missing you at the Head Table, dear boy."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Whadever you say, Albus."

"It's not the same without you-"

Suddenly, Snape gasped; he clutched his arm and turned white. "Oh, no..."

"Severus?"

"Vol- Voldemort is summoning me... You have to help, I... I must ged dressed..."

"You are in no condition-"

Snape sniffed and struggled to get up. "You know as well as I do that I can't ignore the summons. I'll... I've answered the call in much worse conditions."

"Severus, are you sure?"

"Quickly, before Poppy-"

Both men jumped at the sound of the mediwitch clearing her throat. She was standing in the doorway, arms folded over her chest, mouth set in a grim line. "Did I hear you say what I think I heard you say?"

"Poppy, Severus has been summoned."

"I wouldn't care if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named sent him a bloody love letter," Pomfrey said. "He's not going, do you understand?"

"You have to be reasonable-"

She stormed over to Dumbledore and said, "If you tell me to be reasonable one more time, I'm really going to let you have it, you old goat. I'm going to say this only once more. He's not going. Not this time."

Snape growled, and held his arm tighter. "This is none of your business-"

"Oh, it is every bit my business, Mister Master Spy! Or have you forgotten how many times you've been dragged in here, barely alive? But, oh, don't let me stop you, for heaven's sake. Go ahead, Severus. Let's see you get out of bed, go on, then."

Snape gathered all the strength he had left and hauled himself out of bed.

And crumpled to the floor. He glared up at Pomfrey.

"I'm sure the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters will be sympathetic to your health problems," she said. "They may give you Crucio just once or twice instead of the usual dozen times."

"Meddlesome witch-" Snape's biting retort was cut short when his Dark Mark flared to life again, the pain even more intense than the first time.

"Albus, help me get him back in bed," Pomfrey said.

"Have to... can't... c- can't.." Snape said, his breath coming in short puffs.

"Stay calm," Pomfrey said. She snatched the bag Hermione had brought and frantically searched its contents for something, anything, that might help her charge. No magic has ever worked against the Mark... But maybe... Oh, please...

Snape screamed.

"Poppy, Voldemort won't leave Severus a moment's peace until he answers," Dumbledore said.

"Hold his arm," Pomfrey said. She tore a box open.

Dumbledore looked at the tube in her hand. "What is that?"

"It's supposed to feel ice cold, has 'aspirin,' Hermione told me it was some kind of miracle drug," Pomfrey said. It's crazy but it's got to work...

Snape's entire body was trembling. "P- Poppy..."

"Take some deep breaths, Severus. We're going to try something."

She rubbed the clear blue gel on his arm, glancing at his face every few seconds to see if he was reacting favorably. Then, at last, to her intense relief, his muscles began to relax and he stared at her in astonishment.

"It's... it doesn't... burn so much," he said.

"Remarkable," Dumbledore said. "Non-magical remedies have an effect against the Mark, I never would have imagined it. And, you seem less stuffed up, Severus. That Muggle potion you took a little while ago apparently works as well."

"This ointment needs to be reapplied every four hours," Pomfrey said, reading the directions on the tube.

"I really do think you should go back to bed," Dumbledore said. "I believe we have the situation under control now."

"Yes, no thanks to you. I can't believe you were actually going to help him answer the summons."

"I confess I couldn't think of a better solution. But you must admit that Severus is more inclined to listen to you."

"Ha," came Snape's sleepy voice. He yawned.

"Quiet, you. I'd give you a piece of my mind if it wasn't against my principles to upbraid a bedridden patient," Pomfrey said.

Dumbledore arched his eyebrow, but wisely refrained from comment.

"Ha," Snape said again, the word almost inaudible. His head felt like it was floating away.

"I'll be back soon to check on you, so don't even think of doing anything foolish," Pomfrey said, softening.

But he'd already fallen asleep.

****

The following day, Snape was feeling a bit better -particularly as a result of a most entertaining dream he'd had, of a peacock being chased by a big, black bat. He was even able to eat half a boiled egg, and a bit of toast.

The gel Pomfrey had used on his arm had managed to keep the burning sensation of the Death Mark to a minimum; he'd only woken up once or twice in the night, and this morning, it wasn't bothering him at all. Perhaps the Dark Lord had given up... for now.

Pomfrey looked rested as well; after a couple of difficult nights, both she and her slightly irascible patient had gotten close to eight hours of sleep.

"If you'd like, we could sit on the terrace for a bit this afternoon. Lovely day... fresh air would do you good," she said.

"Fresh... air?" he said, enunciating the words with pursed lips.

"Yes, you know, ruffles your hair, and puts a pink glow in your cheeks."

Snape looked as though she'd given him a spoonful of brine.

"I think not."

"Well, maybe you'll change your mind later," she said.

Predictably enough, at around ten o'clock, Snape found himself ensconced in a chair, shielded from the sun by a black parasol. He was covered in blankets, a Slytherin scarf draped around his neck.

Had he no power over that woman? No wonder he usually stayed as far away from the Hospital Wing as possible. But he was at her mercy now, and she was obviously milking that for all it was worth.

Though, well... the damnable fresh air was nice.

"All right, Severus?" she was saying now, poking her head underneath the parasol. "I've brought you some lemonade."

"If it makes you happy. Not that I have any choi-"

"You have a visitor."

Snape at once imagined Dumbledore walking on to the terrace, and pictured himself grabbing the old man by the front of his robes, demanding to be released from Pomfrey's care.

But the mediwitch said, "It's Miss Granger. Apparently you've become a fan of Sherlock Holmes."

Snape groaned. He sank deeper in his chair and burrowed in his scarf until it came up to his eyes.

"Come over here, Hermione," Pomfrey said. "The professor's been anxious to find out what happens in the next chapter."

"Really? Oh, I knew it!" the Gryffindor said, sauntering into view. "It's a really good part, professor."

"Miss Granger," came Snape's muffled voice. "I am a little tired."

Her face fell.

"But..." he said, after hesitating for a second, "Do go on. I hope you won't be offended if I drift off in the middle of your narrative."

"Of course not, professor."

"Well, I'll just go sort out your latest package, Hermione," Pomfrey said, and left them alone.

Hermione was about to start when Snape said, "Miss Granger... Madam Pomfrey had to use one of your Muggle ointments last night, it had an ingredient I can't recall -she called it miraculous... asporan..."

She blinked and then said, "Oh, um, I think you mean aspirin."

"Ah, yes. That's it. I was wondering... Surely books have been written about this medicine?"

"Yes, sir. Would you like me to bring you some?"

"Yes. If you don't mind, Miss Granger."

"I'd be glad to, professor." She paused and said, "I hope you don't think I'm being... uh, overly inquisitive..."

To her surprise, she saw the corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly, and she knew he was smiling.

"Well, sir, I wanted to ask why you were curious about Aspirin."

He remained silent for a while and she was afraid she'd been impertinent. But then he said, "Miss Granger, yesterday evening, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named summoned me, and somehow, your ointment calmed the burning produced by the Dark Mark."

Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed. "You were summoned?"

He nodded, and sighed. "I am aware, Miss Granger, that I am not the most approachable man who has ever lived. But I am indeed grateful for your help, and... perhaps calling you a little know-it-all has not been one of my most appropriate statements."

Her eyes became glued to her feet, and she said with a small voice, "I, sir... I have been known to, well, to talk too much sometimes."

"I know what it is to be -underappreciated, Miss Granger. However, I assure you that the entire faculty knows you are one of our most gifted students, and you must not worry about impressing us any more than we already are."

Her chest hitched, and he thought he heard a sob.

Well, Severus... you make them cry no matter what.

He reached over to her and quickly patted her hand twice. "There there. Tears are not necessary, Miss Granger."

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, hiccupping.

"Why don't you read that next chapter of your book for me now?"

She busied herself with the thick book on her lap, flipping through the pages with clumsy fingers, and began to read.

****

A day later, Pomfrey had to admit defeat -he was well enough to go back to his dungeons.

"You still need to take it easy for a few more days," she said. "In case you've forgotten, you were seriously ill-"

"Yes, I know, Poppy. On the verge of death, for the one hundredth time," he said as she helped him dress. "I promise to be good, and not exert myself needlessly. And to come and see you the instant I feel unwell, which is highly unlikely, considering you were the one who cared for me."

"Severus Snape. Don't tell me you're trying to mollify me."

"I regret to say mollifying people is not a talent I possess."

"I guess I can't complain. I was able to keep you here almost a week, for once."

She adjusted his collar, and he cocked his eyebrow at her.

"Oh, one of these days, you're going to stay stuck like that," she said.

"If it hasn't happened yet, it never will. I've done it on daily basis during my potions classes for the past fifteen years."

"Impossible man."

"May I go now, Poppy?"

"All right, off with you then. And don't forget, if you-"

"Yes, mother."

The shocked expression on her face was priceless. "Humor, Professor Snape? Are you sure you're quite well? Plus I'll have you know that I'm not that much older than you."

"How disappointing. I've always preferred a mature woman."

She shook her head. "If your students knew that getting out of the Hospital Wing is all it takes to put you in such a good mood, there would be a lot more potions accidents in your class."

For a second, he looked deflated. He'd have to mop up after Lockhart now, no doubt. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that the gilded fool had followed the regular curriculum, although Dumbledore had said the children had been working harder than ever on their own.

"Severus? Is something wrong?"

"Hm? Oh, no. I was just thinking about Lockhart wrecking my dungeons..."

"Now don't you start fussing, professor. I want you to rest until Monday at least."

"I will... rest... until tomorrow. Not a day more."

They glared at each other like the French and the English during the Hundred Year War.

"I have not put my foot down often in your case, if ever. But-" she said more loudly before he could interrupt her, "the fact is, I am in a position of authority at Hogwarts."

"I am going to my dungeons now, and will wait until tomorrow morning to grade the towering pile of essays I know Lockhart has graciously left on my desk. He is much too preoccupied with his own reflection to perform his duties."

"Why is it so hard for you to relax?"

"Because," he said, teeth clenched, "I don't like to be alone with my thoughts. Does that satisfy you? I don't expect you, or anyone, to understand."

"In that case, I have the perfect solution for you. Dinner's on me this weekend."

"What?"

"If you need a little distraction to keep your mind off things, I'm volunteering for the job, Severus."

He sputtered. "I- Poppy- this is... I don't mean to insult you, but allow me to decline-"

"Oh, come now, Severus. When was the last time you've had a home cooked meal? Can you even cook, I wonder?"

Dark red blotches appeared on his cheekbones, and his lip curled. "In case you've forgotten, I am a Potions Master. Don't you think preparing a mixed salad is perfectly within the range of my abilities?"

"A mixed salad? No wonder you're so lean. I meant, a home cooked meal: steak, potatoes with butter, freshly baked scones-"

"I can get a House Elf to do that for me any old bloody time I want."

"Which I'm sure is often."

"I'm a busy man, Poppy, I don't have time for, for nonsense-"

"Such as eating every now and then?"

He raked his hand through his hair. "You are the most infuriating person on earth, and that includes Potter."

"Tomorrow night, six o'clock, then. I assume you won't need to be escorted to my quarters?"

He stalked out of the room.

****

Snape looked at the clock. He got up, and sat down in his armchair again.

I'm not going. Blasted, maddening witch...

His dark eyes darted toward the clock.

It's not like I have to go. I don't have to answer to her. I'm a former Death Eater, for crying out loud. She should be shaking with fear.

Poppy, shaking with fear. Snape laughed at the thought. That was about as likely as Fudge winning Witch Weekly's "Most Fashionably Dressed of the Year" award.

Snape drummed his fingers against the armrest. Would she be angry if he failed to show up?

Maybe. Perhaps.

Definitely.

Faking an illness was certainly not going to get him out of this predicament.

He rose, defeated.

"Might as well get it over with."

The massive pile of essays that he'd predicted Lockhart had left on his desk was still there. The Potions Master had been unable to concentrate on anything all day. Except, that is, for his dinner with Pomfrey. If this got out, he'd never live it down. Bullied into having dinner -what a disgrace. Was he not the Head of the House of Slytherin?

Severus, you are so full of crap.

Then, he straightened. Thought she could have fun at his expense, did she.

He headed for the door, and picked up the bouquet of flowers that lay on the small table next to the coat hanger.

Let's see if THAT doesn't shut her up.

****

Pomfrey looked at the clock.

Two more minutes, and he'd be late, which could only mean one of three things: he was sulking in his private quarters, he was in the Headmaster's office, trying to convince Albus she had lost her marbles, or he'd gone into hiding.

If he was smart, he'd chosen the third option.

Then again, what if... he could have been summoned.

She was going back and forth between anger and worry when there was a curt knock at the door.

The mediwitch hurried to open it, and found herself face to face with a bunch of wild flowers.

"Here. I thought you might like to put them on the table, or something," Snape said.

"My. How... thoughtful of you, Severus." She took them from his hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Well, do come in."

Snape followed her and glanced at the surroundings. Aside from the stone walls, everything, or almost, was white. But not a stark, antiseptic sort of white; it was soft and faded, in some places a bit gray, in others a bit yellow. The atmosphere reminded him of slightly wilted roses. It was calming. There was a pale blue throw on the sofa, a couple of books on the coffee table, along with a tea-stained mug.

He'd never seen Pomfrey's rooms before, and this was a bit unexpected, but in a pleasant way. After spending his childhood in a place where a speck of dust was a calamity, he liked his ink spots, his haphazard stacks of parchments, his disarrayed collection of jars. To his relief, it now seemed unlikely the mediwitch would yell at him for leaving crumbs on the tablecloth.

"I bet you thought the furniture would be covered in plastic," she said.

He gave her a quizzical look, and she chuckled.

"Over the years, I've heard a lot of funny stories from students who are familiar with Muggles. Not much else they can do but talk when they're in the Hospital Wing, sometimes."

"I can only imagine," he said, raising an eyebrow.

She took him to a small dining room that overlooked the Hogwarts grounds.

"Make yourself at home, Severus. Dinner's ready."

"It does smell rather good."

"Would you like a glass of wine?"

"Yes, thank you."

She poured him a glass of red, then filled her own glass.

"I'll be right back," she said. A few minutes later, she emerged from the kitchen with two large plates.

"Here you are."

"It looks delicious," Snape said, eyeing the juicy steak and pepper sauce, buttered vegetables sprinkled with rosemary, and golden bread rolls in front of him.

"I've always loved to cook. It helps me relax," she said, and sat down.

"I gather you've hidden this talent from the House Elves? They would be wringing their hands if they knew what's been going on in here."

"As my mother used to say, what would wizardkind do without House Elves, starve?"

"I suppose so," Snape said with a fleeting smile.

"Well, dig in, Severus. If my mother had met you, she would've also said, 'that boy needs fattening up.'"

Snape muttered, sliced a piece of steak and brought it to his mouth. "Oh," he said. "Oh."

"Do you like it?"

"It's... noteworthy," he said, chewing. "Outstanding, actually."

"Glad you like it. Glad you're here, Severus."

"Heavens knows I came willingly."

She lifted her glass. "To friends."

After a moment, he imitated her gesture. "To... friends."

Their glasses struck with a soft clink, and they drank.

They ate in silence for a while, then Pomfrey said, "This isn't so bad, is it?"

"I thought I'd made it clear your cooking skills were superb."

"No, I meant, interacting with another human being, Severus."

"Poppy, while I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, I'd prefer it if we left my social life out of this." He downed the rest of his wine in one gulp.

"You have no social life. It'd be like mentioning something that doesn't exist."

"All the more reason to leave it alone, then."

"You don't realize how much we worry about you, do you?"

He wiped his lips and flung his napkin on the table. "You are all wasting valuable energy by doing so." More quietly, he said, "Anyway, I don't believe you. I know what I am, what people think of me. Not that I care in the least."

"That would explain why you're so charming."

"Remind me again why I'm here?"

"Right now, chocolate truffle cake, if you're done with that steak."

He sighed. "Do you need help-"

"Nonsense. You're my guest. Won't be a second."

When she returned with the cake, he was rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine, fine. Just a small headache." He looked up. "Chocolate will help."

"I'm not so sure about that, but here you go," she said, handing him the plate.

She filled their cups with tea. "Sugar?"

"Two."

They started on dessert, and she said, "How's the cake?"

"I think you know the answer."

"Indulge me, Severus."

"I don't believe a House Elf could have done any better."

She spurted her tea, and laughed. "It's such a shame so few people know about this terrific sense of humor of yours."

"There hasn't been much call for it in my line of work."

"I bet your class could benefit from a few laughs."

"Does constant snickering from the Slytherins at the expense of the Gryffindors qualify?"

"I'd like to know whose idea it was to stick those two houses together," Pomfrey said, shaking her head.

"Oh, it's part of Albus's master plan, no doubt."

"Come again?"

"His plan to drive me completely insane and have me interned at St. Mungo's before the Dark Lord can kill me."

The smile died from Pomfrey's lips. "Why do you do it?"

"Because no one else can. Albus knows it. He wishes it were otherwise, but..." He shrugged. "I am prepared to make the necessary sacrifices."

"Every time you're carried in the Hospital Wing, Severus, I'm afraid that-" Her eyes grew bright and she looked away, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't mind me. All of this, the war... the injured, the ones I can't save... sometimes, it's a little hard to keep going."

"The only way I've been able to is by limiting -attachments," Snape said. "It's better for everyone involved."

"How about some brandy? Let's go sit in the living room."

He nodded.