Whatever I've done

Whatever I've done

Part Two

by

Logospilgrim

Rated R (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.

I'm not going to tell you who I'm pairing Severus with, because it would spoil the surprise ;-)

Eternal gratitude to Laur, most cherished friend and advisor.

A few hours later, Snape stirred and slowly opened his eyes.

"Good morning, Severus," Dumbledore said.

Small tremors ran through Snape's body. "Headmaster."

"How are you feeling today?"

"Fine."

Pomfrey brought him a glass of water. "Here, have something to drink, Severus. Little sips, we don't want to shock your system."

He shook his head.

"Professor Snape, do not make me scold you." She tipped the glass against his mouth. Water trickled past his parted lips, and he swallowed.

"Perhaps you should eat as well," Dumbledore said.

"No," Snape said, a bit green.

"Some chicken broth, I think. Nothing too heavy," Pomfrey said. "I'll get a house-elf to bring up a platter right away." She walked away from the bed and beyond the main ward, leaving Snape and Dumbledore alone.

The headmaster touched the side of Snape's throat. "Still feverish." He waved his wand. "Feverosem reducio."

"It's nothing." Snape twitched. Bugger off.

"I disagree. And I'm not the only one, Severus."

"I don't care." Snape flinched again, and grit his teeth.

"That's enough talking for now. Here comes Poppy with your soup."

The headmaster magicked the bed so that Snape's upper body was raised to a half-sitting position.

Pomfrey set the platter on the bedside table and picked up the bowl of soup and a spoon. She filled it with broth, blew on it, and said, "Open up, Severus."

"No. I can't eat."

Pomfrey slipped the spoon past his lips anyway, and he couldn't help but swallow and glare.

She gave him another spoonful. "You poor dear. When was the last time you ate?"

He shrugged, closing his eyes.

Pomfrey clucked her tongue.

She was about to give him a third spoonful of broth when his face turned waxen.

"Severus?" Pomfrey asked. She reached for a large bowl.

"Sick," Snape said, before throwing up in the bowl that Pomfrey held for him. There was very little for him to vomit, and he gagged painfully for several minutes before his stomach calmed down. Pomfrey gave him a mouthful of water so he could rinse it out, and he sagged back against his pillows, his body drenched with sweat, his breathing quick and shallow.

Dumbledore wiped Snape's face and throat. "We'll try again later, Severus."

"Whatever." Snape turned away.

Dumbledore walked to the other side of the bed, and sat down again.

"Leave me," Snape said.

"Severus..."

Tears leaked from Snape's closed eyelids, and he scowled at his despicable weakness.

"Severus... You are not alone."

"I can no longer live... any other way."

"I understand, Severus. Part of the blame lies with me. But you cannot go on as you have."

More silent tears streaked Snape's face. He had never felt so helpless or vulnerable, and it was even more unbearable than the pain. He imagined himself, safe within the impregnable walls of his dungeons, putting an end to it all. He had plenty of potions at hand that would do the trick. Yes, more than enough to choose from...

At hand... That was the problem, wasn't it. Or part of it. His hands were useless, and he was at the mercy of a treacherous body, incapable of moving a single muscle without searing agony. The spasms jolted through him without warning, making him fearful of time. Each interminable minute threatened to steal what little sanity he felt he possessed and forced him to contemplate the humiliating dead end his life had become. He realized that even if he could surreptitiously Accio an appropriate potion from his personal stocks, he still wouldn't be able to open it.

And then, he felt delicate fingers wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"Severus."

He shut his eyes tighter.

"Severus, I know you can hear me."

"Minerva... not now," Snape said.

She seated herself next to the bed. "I see you're hard at work sinking deeper in that pit of despair you like to call home. I do hope you realize we're all familiar with that particular hobby of yours."

Snape groaned. That's what it had come to. His colleagues were determined to smoke him out of the security of his cool burrow. They would be trying to cheer him up next.

He attempted to inject his tone with menace, but only managed to croak. "Minerva..."

McGonagall put a finger on his lips. "We'll continue this discussion when you're feeling better. Right now, you need to rest a little."

Snape huffed, too drained to bicker with her. She began to stroke his head; at first the gentle touch was strange and irritating, and then it was almost... soothing. Her fingers on his hair were distracting him from the constant ache in his limbs, from the thoughts that wracked his mind.

There was the quiet murmur of a spell and he could feel himself melting away...

"It's not so terrible, is it?" McGonagall said.

His breathing deepened, but he remained on the edge of slumber for a few minutes, part of his consciousness clinging to the odd sensation of fingers caressing his hair.

****

When Severus opened his eyes again, the deep reds and yellows of the setting sun were warming the tree-cropped horizon.

He yawned and went to stretch, the movement stopped short by a fierce pain that ripped through his body and made him yelp.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to indulge the desire to stretch for a while longer," McGonagall said. "Dolorosa reducio. Pacem spiritus. Nauseam finite."

Snape sighed; an odd sense of peace washed over him, more comforting than the decreased pain in his body. He even found that he was a bit hungry.

As if this was something she had expected, McGonagall picked up a small bowl filled with a very light pudding, and began stirring it.

He raised an eyebrow.

"You should eat something now, Severus. Don't worry. You won't get sick."

"What is it?"

"Vanilla pudding. It's mostly water. Very easy to digest, and it won't irritate your throat."

His face grew sour.

"You must be improving if you're going to be picky. Here." She brought a spoonful to his lips. "Try it."

He rolled his eyes. "Very well."

Professor McGonagall started to feed the bed-ridden Potions Master, who reluctantly submitted to her care. Or at least, who behaved as he'd conditioned himself to. However, the substance was more palatable than he'd suspected, and before he knew it, he'd eaten the bowl's entire contents. He had to admit that it had helped.

She put the empty bowl back on the bedside table and gave him a bit of water. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better. Thank you."

She smiled and patted his shoulder. "You're welcome."

"Minerva..."

"Yes?"

"You don't have to stay here... on my account."

"I have no intention of listening to such nonsense. Now. Would you like me to read to you?"

"You're not... going to go away, are you."

"I'm afraid not."

"Fine, then. Read to me. Whatever."

"Shall we start with a card?" She picked up the card Hermione had brought when she, Ron and Harry had crept in the hospital wing the day before.

His eyes narrowed. "A what?"

"A get-well card. From some of your students."

He blinked, and his eyes darted from the card she held, to her face.

She took advantage of his surprise to begin reading it. "Dear Professor Snape, I'm sorry I called you a greasy git, and hope you feel better soon. Ron Weasley."

McGonagall almost laughed out loud when she saw his nonplussed expression.

"Minerva, they're terrible liars."

"Dear Professor Snape, I miss you in Potions class. You are the best Potions Master Hogwarts has ever had. Please, get well soon. Hermione Granger." She cocked her eyebrow. "You're right. They should be expelled for such bald lies. I think I'll speak with the Headmaster right away."

Snape glared at her and said, "I suppose... Potter's well-wishes are next?" a dangerous hint of velvet softness infusing his raspy voice.

"Dear Professor Snape, I never thanked you for trying to save my life during the Quidditch game. I'm sorry. I hope you get well soon. Harry Potter."

McGonagall set the card back on the bedside table, folded her hands in her lap, and watched the subtle play of emotions flitting across his face.

"So... I am a hero now... am I. What luck."

"You won't make the cover of Witch Weekly's anytime soon, if that's what you're wondering."

"Minerva, you know perfectly well... what I'm talking about! Bloody hell... So then, what heartwarming praises has the Headmaster heaped upon my... my pathetic carcass?"

"All right, Severus, that's enough-"

"Like hell it is!" His breathing was accelerating, and his long face was streaked with perspiration. "It's... poor Professor Snape, now, is it?" His fury surged when he realized that his eyes had begun to water.

"Severus, I must insist-"

"Where is that... infernal Poppy with her damned potions?" His voice cracked. His joints suddenly felt as though they were on fire again. He pulled his lips over his teeth and choked back a groan.

McGonagall gripped his head between her hands. "Severus, listen to me."

After a few moments, he looked up at her between strands of dark hair.

"I care about you. And I will help you adjust to all of this. Do you understand?"

"I... I need a potion."

"Potions no longer have any effect on you, Severus. We have been relying upon other methods to deal with your pain."

Snape gave a tiny shake of the head. "Potions... have no effect?" His Adam's apple bobbed. "What are... what are you talking about?"

McGonagall took out her wand.

"Get me a potion. A potion... now," Snape said.

She rose without a word, walked to the potions cabinet, and returned with a vial. Let him sniff. He nodded, tension lining his face.

McGonagall brought the vial to his lips, and he gulped the potion down

The pain did not diminish.

"Impossible... this is impossible..."

"I'm sorry, Severus. We're not sure how this can be happening."

He began to tremble. "What has Voldemort... done to me?"

"Shhhh... Pacem spiritus... Dolorosa reducio sustanem..." McGonagall said softly.

He moaned, and all of his muscles relaxed.

"It'll be all right, Severus." She put her wand down and dabbed his face with a cloth. "I promise."

Snape's throat worked, and he bit back a harsh reply. He knew she was doing her best to help him; he simply had little experience in that area. He preferred doing everything alone. Asking for help had rarely been an option. Whether this was the consequence of choices he'd made, or something that had been thrust upon him because of circumstances beyond his control, mattered little in the end.

He let himself get used to her touch again as she finished wiping his face. It would be ridiculous to pretend he didn't need help this time: he could hardly move. Perhaps this was a lesson in humility.

He snorted.

"What are you scoffing at now?" She folded the moist cloth and laid it across his wide forehead.

"I was thinking... that this entire situation might eventually crush my pride."

McGonagall's eyebrows shot up and she laughed. "Heavens, no."

"Isn't this a dream come true for most?"

Her laughter ebbed away. "Not like this. Dear Severus. So many things did not happen how they should have."

The way she spoke his name startled him, and a blush warmed his cheekbones. It felt so peculiar to be addressed with such tenderness... He was torn between withdrawing into himself and opening up to her. Between snarling... and mellowing.

Snape scowled inwardly. It was obvious that Voldemort had done irreparable damage to his mind as well as the rest of his body.

"But you need to sleep now," McGonagall said. "Shall I return tomorrow to see how you're doing?"

"If you wish," Snape said after a moment.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then. Around lunchtime, and in the evening. Goodnight, Severus."

"Goodnight."

****

The next morning, when McGonagall arrived at the hospital wing to check on Snape before her classes began, Poppy hurried over to her.

"Minerva, thank goodness you're here."

"You look like you haven't slept a wink, Poppy."

"He had a bad night. Kept waking up, yelling. He was sweating so much... Merlin's beard, his bandages and sheets were drenched. I took the bandages off and tried another spell, St Mungo's idea... He calmed down for a while after that." She blew out her breath, trying to tuck wayward strands of hair back into her loosening bun.

"I'll watch over him for now," McGonagall said. Then she looked at his hands and gasped.

She remembered when the mediwitches at St Mungo's had carefully rebuilt the bones in his hands only two days ago; although the damage was severe, she had still hoped that it would not be permanent.

Evidently, Voldemort had had other plans.

Snape's long fingers, once so graceful, were now twisted claws. His knuckles and wrists were swollen and deformed.

"I don't think the cuts are going to bleed again. I thought I'd never get rid of those hexes. I was just about to bandage his hands again," Poppy said.

"Yes, quickly. If he should see this-"

"See... what..."

Both women jumped at the faint sound of Snape's tired voice.

Pomfrey draped another white sheet over him and shrouded his body up to his neck.

"Merlin, I didn't realize you were awake, Severus," McGonagall said.

Snape's eyes were still closed and his face was almost deathly white beneath the bruises.

"What... were you talking about..."

"Nothing, Severus," McGonagall said, stroking his black locks. She frowned, and examined one of the long strands twined around her fingers.

Some of the hairs had turned grey.

Oh, Severus...

"Minerva... I'm... I'm hungry."

"Would you like some eggs and chips?" Pomfrey asked. "Or porridge?"

"Porridge."

"I'll be right back."

He opened his eyes, but the effort of keeping them open was too great, and he closed them again.

"Where's... the Headmaster?"

"He's taken over your classes for the rest of the term," McGonagall said.

A smile touched Snape's lips. "Serves him right."

"Severus, you are terrible."

"No, Longbottom is terrible."

"He wouldn't be if you didn't terrify him so. Although I do believe he is working on a card for you."

"Brave and stupid. Typical Gryffindor."

"Severus, shush. Here comes Poppy with your breakfast."

Pomfrey walked in with a steaming bowl on a platter. "Here you are, Severus."

He moistened his lips, and they parted in anticipation as Pomfrey gave the bowl to McGonagall.

"My stars. Professor Snape is in a cooperative mood," McGonagall said.

Snape arched one of his fine eyebrows.

She magicked the bed upright and began to feed him.

After a few spoonfuls, he began to regain some of his coloring. The bowl was almost empty when his head lolled to one side and his light snores drifted from the bed.

Pomfrey and McGonagall smiled at each other.

"Maybe he'll be able to sleep a few hours this time," Pomfrey said. "It's hard to tell when it's going to hit him again."

"Should I stay?"

"No, no, you already have a lot on your plate, Minerva. I'll ask one of the house-elves to keep an eye on him while I take a nap, once I've bandaged his hands." She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. "I'll have another house-elf bring up some nightshirts for him. You know how much he loves hospital gowns."

"I'll be back this evening, Poppy," McGonagall said with a soft chuckle.

****

As soon as Dumbledore entered the dungeons for the first double Potions session of the day, dozens of voices piped up, barraging him with questions about Snape's condition.

The Headmaster held his hands up. "Children, if you'll quiet down for a moment-"

"Headmaster, when can we visit Professor Snape?" Harry asked.

"Patience, Harry-"

"Potter, quit trying to hog OUR Head of House! The Headmaster said Slytherins could see him first!"

"Bugger off, Malfoy!"

"Harry, language," Dumbledore said, wagging his finger. "Mr. Malfoy, as I believe I've already stated, Slytherins will be the first to see the Professor when he is well enough."

Malfoy shot Harry with a smug look.

"Naturally, within each House, upperclass will have priority. The other Houses will follow according to point standing. Before we start, I wanted to let you know that I will be teaching this class for the rest of the term. Now, if you'll all open your books at page 45... I don't believe Professor Snape would be impressed to find his students dawdling in class, would he? Chop chop," he said, and clapped his hands twice.

The children grudgingly flipped open their potions manuals.

"Before we begin, I want you all to draw up a list of ingredients. I will give a basic overview of the potion. Then, I will call upon some of you to select an ingredient and explain to the class why you think it's important. If you would like to suggest alternatives, by all means do so."

A number of groans resounded across the classroom.

Dumbledore's lesson went well until it was time for Ron to discuss his idea for a substitute ingredient.

"What if we used boiled toadguts, instead of the powdered kind? I think it would be better if we used the boiled kind, instead of the powdered one, and adjusted the amount of water. Because boiled toadguts are more potent.""

"Weasley, even a first year wouldn't come up with something so stupid," Malfoy said.

"Mr. Malfoy, mind your tongue. This will be a civilized discussion. You will have a chance to share your knowledge with us in a few minutes," Dumbledore said. "Now... who else can explain why Mr. Weasley's idea is flawed? What adjustments are required in order for boiled toadguts to be effective in this particular potion?"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"They would have to be immersed in toadblood for three and a half hours beforehand."

"Correct. One point to Gryffindor. Very good, Miss Granger. Professor Snape would be proud of you."

Hermione flushed to the roots of her hair.

The rest of the class went along in that vein, except for a bit of shoving at the ingredients cabinet.

"Oh, I remember Potions class, when I was a lad," Dumbledore said. "Did a bit of elbowing at the potions cabinet myself. That is, until the sad, sad day when..." He shook his head and clucked his tongue. "Well, the less said, the better, actually..."

The student exchanged nervous glances, and stopped jostling each other immediately.

****

"Did he get a chance to rest this afternoon?" McGonagall asked Pomfrey when she walked in the hospital ward that evening, accompanied by Dumbledore.

"A little more than last night. It's so frustrating. No matter what I do, the pain comes back." She thought for a moment and said, "He'd probably disagree, but it seems to help when someone is there with him. Keeps his mind distracted."

"Perhaps I should allow the Slytherin prefects to see him tomorrow," Dumbledore said.

"That might be a good idea," Pomfrey said. "He asked about his House. He wants to make certain the Slytherins are coming along with their revision."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his moon-shaped glasses. "All the more reason for the prefects to pay him a visit, then. Since Severus is fretting."

The Potions Master was half-awake and sitting in bed, which was still in its upright position. He was wearing a grey nightgown and his bandaged hands were gathered in his lap.

"Good evening, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"Headmaster. I see you're... still in one piece. I take it... the little dunderheads didn't blow up my dungeons?"

"On the contrary, Severus. They were a credit to your teaching skills. They performed most admirably."

This left Snape, for once, speechless. When he recovered from his shock, he said, "What about... Longbottom? How did his potion turn out?"

"He had one or two minor setbacks, but..."

Snape snorted.

"But," Dumbledore said, "he worked with more dedication than anyone else in the class. I don't think you realize how much he needs your approbation, Severus."

"Headmaster." Snape shook his head and shut his eyes wearily. "Don't treat me like an imbecile. The boy doesn't care what I think. None of them do."

"On the contrary, Severus. They were a credit to your teaching skills. They performed most admirably."

This left Snape, for once, speechless. When he recovered from his shock, he said, "What about... Longbottom? How did his potion turn out?"

"He had one or two minor setbacks, but..."

Snape snorted.

"But," Dumbledore said, "he worked with more dedication than anyone else in the class. I don't think you realize how much he needs your approbation, Severus."

"Headmaster." Snape shook his head and shut his eyes wearily. "Don't treat me like an imbecile. The boy doesn't care what I think. None of them do."

"I will leave it up to them to prove you wrong, my boy," the Headmaster said.

"Oh, joy. More tawdry and dubious get-well cards, I suppose?"

"I've heard just about enough of this," McGonagall said. She shooed Dumbledore away and touched Snape's cheek. "Your temperature is rising again. Little wonder." She inched closer to the bed-ridden Potions Master. "Now listen to me, Severus. I want you to rest, and stop brooding. It's only making you worse. Is that clear?"

Snape sighed. "I am at your mercy, Minerva. God help me."

Dumbledore repressed a smile.

"I'm glad to see we have an understanding," McGonagall said. "Feverosem reducio. Respitere beatificus."

Snape fell asleep instantly.

"Respitere beatificus," Pomfrey said, frowning. "That's a new one, Minerva."

"Actually, quite the opposite. I've been dusting off a number of ancient tomes," McGonagall said, "searching for spells that might help Severus to recover. The respitere beatificus charm has roots in early Christianity. According to traditional wizardry, it was formulated by St. Mungo the Wonderworker."

"I've never seen Severus looking so peaceful," Dumbledore said.

"Do you think he'll sleep through the night?" Pomfrey said.

"I'm certain of it," McGonagall said. "It's an extremely powerful charm... reputed to heal wounds that are emotional as well as physical."

Dumbledore pulled the bedsheets up to Snape's chin. "Excellent work, my dear," he told McGonagall. "This is just what Severus needed."

****

Snape indeed awoke the next morning, but a slight feeling of confusion accompanied his return to consciousness. And then, he realized why.

"No nightmares," he said in a whisper.

"Good morning, Severus," Pomfrey said. "Sleep well?"

"Yes," he replied after a moment of hesitation. "I..."

"Yes? Does anything hurt?"

"No... not right now." He paused, and said, "I need to thank Minerva."

"Good morning, Severus," Pomfrey said. "Sleep well?"

"Yes," he replied after a moment of hesitation. "I..."

"Yes? Does anything hurt?"

"No... not right now." He paused, and said, "I need to thank Minerva."

"Of course. Of course, Severus," Pomfrey said. "She should be here any minute. I'll get you something to eat."

He nodded.

"Well! Look who's turned into a lamb! I guess I'll have to thank Minerva too."

His mouth twisted into something that only approximated his trademark sneer. "I am feeling... magnanimous, Poppy. Enjoy it while it lasts."

She smiled at him and shook her head. "Porridge then, dear?"

"Yes."

"I'll add a little honey to it, shall I?"

"Thank you."

Pomfrey headed for the door just as McGonagall stepped in the room.

"How is he? Is he awake yet?" McGonagall said.

"As a matter of fact, he's waiting for you."

McGonagall eyed the mediwitch for a second. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I have to get his breakfast... I'll be right back." Pomfrey tittered and left.

McGonagall went to Snape's bedside and sat down. "Severus."

"Minerva."

"You seem better."

"I am," he said. "I have you to thank for that. I remember the spell you used... Very interesting. I never imagined such an... archaic incantation would actually work."

"Our illustrious predecessors viewed their magic as miraculous interventions. If anyone had been in need of a miracle lately, it was you."

He smirked, and his expression grew somber. "I've never had reason to believe in such things." He looked away and said, "I know, Minerva. My hands."

"Severus, I'm sure that..."

"No. Don't try to comfort me, I assure you there's no point. I accept my fate. I earned it. They're not hurting me at present, but I know they're-" He swallowed. "Ruined. Beyond repair."

McGonagall sighed. "Severus, I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. You've already done more for me than I've ever done for you."

A smile wavered on McGonagall's lips. "It wasn't the first time I'd stayed up all night going through piles of books."

"That's not what I mean, although I am grateful for that as well. You saved my life. In Hogsmeade. I was dying."

"You know as well as I that if our positions had been reversed-"

"How many people would have thought I was worth saving?"

"Severus."

"I don't know how to be anything other than an outcast."

"We've had this discussion before." She put a hand upon his arm and stared into his eyes. "The time has come to leave the past behind. You can do it, Severus."

"You sound so sure of yourself, when you say that."

"We shall soon see which one of us is more bullheaded."

"I have a feeling I've lost already." His lips curved upwards slightly.

"That's the spirit," McGonagall said, smoothing his brow with tender fingers. "You can't have me scolding you in front of students, can you?"

"Evidently, you were sorted into the wrong House."

"While we're on that subject, your prefects are coming to see you this afternoon."

"Oh. Oh, excellent. I had been concerned about... my Slytherins." He faltered, and went on. "About what has been going on in my House since this happened."

"Well, reactions have been mixed, as you can imagine. But the majority of them support you. I believe many Slytherins are relieved to have an ally, someone who will defend their decision not to join the Death Eaters. Someone who will understand their predicament."

Snape sat up straighter. "Yes. Yes. I can help them, now. Truly help them. No one knows better than I how difficult it is to resist the lure of Voldemort's-" He released a shaky breath. "I will not allow him to deceive those who are under my care. Everything that is in my power to do, I shall."

"You see, Severus -you can't give up. Too many depend upon you."

They were interrupted by the sound of Pomfrey clearing her throat. "Is our Potions Master hungry?"

"Indeed, Poppy," he said.

"Good. Porridge, and then a rest," Pomfrey said. "A few of your Slytherins are dropping by later on, you know. They're very anxious to see you."

He struggled not to smile.

****

Pomfrey carefully folded the bedsheets underneath Snape's arms. He was wearing a fresh nightgown and the bandages around his hands hid his injuries as much as possible.

"There," she said, patting the sheets. "How's that?"

"Fine," Snape said. "Show them in, please."

Pomfrey went to the door and said, "Come in, lads. Professor Snape will see you now," then busied herself at the potions cabinet.

Two tall boys approached Snape's bed, clutching dark packages tied with green ribbons.

"Professor," the older one said. "You... you look better, sir. We were worried."

Snape observed him for a moment. "Mr. Moorland. It was you, in Hogsmeade, wasn't it? The one who came to my aid after I Apparated."

"Yes, sir."

Snape nodded once.

"We brought you gifts, Professor," Moorland said.

"Thank you. You can put them over there, on the table."

Moorland nudged his younger companion, who took both parcels and did as Snape had asked.

"You have been keeping a watchful eye on my House?" Snape asked the older Slytherin.

"Yes, sir. Everyone has been working twice as hard since-" He reddened, and lowered his eyes.

"Don't be afraid to say it. You know the truth now, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."