Crucio

Even as Severus dragged his eyes open, he hoped he was dead. There could be nothing good to come from this weightless feeling, this numbness that was enslaving his limbs. And the bespectacled green eyes peering at him confirmed it.

Potter.

"Professor?"

It wasn't an apparition then. The eyes did belong to Potter, though they looked much too concerned for Potter's face to be the one attached to them. Perhaps he was in hell then. To stare at Lily's warm eyes, only to find them constantly invaded by that black, unmistakably Potter hair. To constantly remind of what he was never allowed to have. Surely, the fates would not be so cruel, not even to Severus Snape.

"Professor?"

Severus was certain that he had already told the gangly brat to get out, and to do so immediately, but apparently Potter preferred to play some sort of dangerous game--risking his professor's ire. Severus didn't like games, most especially when he was lying flat on his back, staring into eyes that held such pity.

"I...I'm sorry, sir, but I can't understand you." Severus imagined that he could feel his arms lifting to place them in a rather pleasant stranglehold around Potter's neck. But Potter continued to speak, his voice jarring Severus even further into anger. "You were burned sir...Vol--You Know Who...well I think it was..."

Why was Potter speaking in such an infuriating manner? Severus glared at him. What sort of game was Potter playing with him now--trying to make him guess the missing words? He loathed games. He snarled as much, but Potter took no heed.

"...Dodgy never came back though...Sirius...thank you, sir."

Severus stared at those green eyes, immediately suspicious. What the hell was Potter thanking him for? Something to do with that mutt? And what did he mean the house elf had not come back? From where?

"...I need to put some more...Pomfrey gave Dodgy instructions...sorry, sir."

Severus tried to jerk away.

Something was touching him. And it felt alarmingly like Potter's hand. It was warm to the touch; something soothing was enfolding his skin, which felt like a thousand needles had been jammed in at the same moment, but the relief was of little importance. Severus had to get away. He barked at Potter to cease immediately, under the threat of the vilest of tortures, but the hand didn't leave.

"...sorry..." The murmured words, full of embarrassment, and remorse jarred Severus' sanity. Why couldn't he move? Push Potter's hand away. His limbs would not obey.

A strange, unnatural fury began to take Severus over as the truth of what was happening revealed itself. The Dark Lord had set him ablaze--and he had nearly died. And now...now Potter was nursing him back to health. Severus wondered if his body would allow him to expel the bile that was coursing up through his esophagus.

The harsh words that Severus directed toward Potter were of no use. The miserable brat's ministrations did not stop. Potter's hand was still touching him. And then with a sickening jolt, Severus realized that perhaps it was Black who was touching him, and in a moment of vivid confusion, he couldn't decide which would be worse. And then everything went dark again.

--

Harry paused in his rhythmic scoop and glop motions. Had Snape just murmured Sirius' name? Harry studied his professor for only a second before he shook his head dismissively and went back to his task. What a daft thought! Snape, if had been thinking of Sirius, certainly wouldn't be whispering his name...cursing it would be more likely.

Harry, as he had for the past two days, stared fixedly at the back of his hand, and hoped that Snape wouldn't wake up again. He had wanted to stop slathering on the salve as soon as Snape had stirred, but in a rather rushed decision, he began putting it on even faster, hoping maybe Snape wouldn't notice before he drifted back to sleep.

He'd been drifting since early this morning.

And still, Snape seemed completely unaware of what was happening. At least, his mumbled speech didn't tell Harry anything except that the Potions master was not really fully conscious. It was better that way; Harry wasn't ready to talk to him yet--at least not when Snape could talk back.

With a sigh of relief, Harry twisted the cap back on the jar, and set it down gently on the table. He activated the salve with his wand, and then draped the blanket back over Snape's protected body. He sank into the empty chair as he always did, his eyes straying upward as he heard Sirius' soft footsteps padding slowly down the corridor.

He smiled as soon as Sirius came into view, with a rather heavy-looking tray of food. With a stray look at Snape, Harry got up and went to unload his godfather of his burden, with a murmured, "Here..."

Sirius shook his head and gestured with his head for Harry to go on into the bedroom. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius only smiled. "I'm not an invalid, Harry. I'm feeling perfectly well."

Harry gave him a skeptical look; he was certainly hunched over like an invalid. "You can't even walk properly," he pointed out, trying to be helpful.

Sirius gave him a squinty, one-eyed look, which was probably meant to be disapproving of Harry's cheek, but it only made Harry smile. "Go on," Sirius ordered with a quiet chuckle.

Harry, still smiling, turned and went into the other room, with Sirius hobbling along behind him. Before Sirius even had a chance to protest, Harry took the tray and set it on the little table beside the bed.

"Thanks." Sirius settled himself on the bed, wincing a little as his body adjusted to the new position. Harry watched him, his eyebrows puckering with concern.

And he silently scolded himself for not ordering Dodgy to bring back potions for Sirius when he'd sent him away the first time. Sirius' bruises hadn't even begun to fade; not even a little. Sirius had explained that since most of them were magically inflicted, they had done a lot more damage than a simple fist or foot would have done.

"I'm recovering Harry," Sirius interrupted his thoughts. "There really isn't any need for you to fret." He shifted back a bit on the rumpled covers as though to prove his point, but Harry didn't miss the almost undetectable grimace on his godfather's face.

Harry picked up a sandwich half and handed it over to Sirius. He plucked another off the tray and sat cross-legged on the bed, leaning forward just slightly. "You should stay in bed." He ignored the constriction in his throat. "They hurt you for days...I can do whatever needs to be done around here."

"Harry, you're already taking care of Snape, since the salve has attached itself to your magical signature. You don't need to take care of me as well." When Harry frowned, Sirius assured him gently, "If I need your help, I promise I'll ask all right?'

Harry nodded through his sigh. Sirius gave his sandwich a pointed look but truthfully, Harry hadn't needed much encouragement over the last twenty-four hours. Sirius' careful explanations had helped him a great deal. The quietly overwhelming feeling of fear that had pushed against him ever since he'd woken up in this shack had dissipated--for the most part. Being near Snape still made him vaguely anxious, but at least he understood the feeling now.

The fear was no longer a phantom, chasing after him, to thrust him into shadowed corners.

Snape had forced him to leave the odd, inexplicable safety he'd cocooned himself in. He had been trying to help, Harry finally realized, but even with that acknowledgment, Harry could not quite get over the resentment he felt toward his professor. Snape hadn't needed to be so harsh; Sirius would never have hurt him like that. But Snape didn't care about hurting him--Harry had realized that many detentions ago. And Harry would simply have to accept it, especially as he fully understood that the man had saved Sirius' life.

Harry cringed when he heard Sirius gasp as he turned to face Harry; he had moved his upper body too much and his tender ribs, predictably, had protested. Harry swallowed the bit of sandwich in his mouth and took Sirius' elbow until he had straightened himself out; Sirius' breathing sounded labored again.

"Shouldn't Snape have some Potions here somewhere? He's a Potions professor."

"He probably does," Sirius told him, sounding less strained now. "In a warded cupboard, most likely."

Harry made a face. "No one even lives here. Who would break into his supplies?" he asked with a little shake of his head. Snape was definitely paranoid.

But Sirius seemed to be considering the question. "I don't know how he, or even Albus, I suppose, used this place. It's possible others may have stayed here."

Harry polished off the rest of his sandwich. "Dodgy said something about Dumbledore's magic not allowing anyone else in here...that can't be a Fidelius Charm, right? I wasn't even awake when Snape brought me here."

Sirius smiled as Harry took another sandwich, but then his eyes crinkled as he thought about what Harry had said. "I don't know of another charm, or a spell which would allow only certain people in." He smiled ruefully. "But then Dumbledore is a much more powerful wizard, and a more knowledgeable one." He shrugged, even as his eyes took on a decidedly sorrowful hue.

"I wish we knew what happened to Dodgy," Harry said, worried as well about the Headmaster and Hogwarts. He'd made the same lament at least half a dozen times since yesterday. And since the only way would be for Sirius to leave to find out, they'd reluctantly resigned themselves to the situation, though that didn't stop Harry from vocalizing his worry.

"Dumbledore will contact us when he's able," Sirius assured him. Harry nodded, knowing Sirius was right, but understanding as well that Dodgy not returning was a very good indication that things were not going well outside the shack. Sirius squeezed his knee lightly. "Why don't you take a nap?" he suggested. "You didn't sleep well last night."

Harry used his hands to slide himself back against the wall, until his shoulder was almost touching Sirius'; his godfather looked like he was about to topple over himself. "I slept all right. I didn't dream or anything."

Sirius gave him an odd look. "You dreamt all night. You were thrashing a few times, and you were talking."

Harry stared at his godfather. "I did? What did I say?"

"Muttering mostly," Sirius answered with a frown. "You called out for me a few times...while we were thrashing."

Harry's cheeks grew warm, and he looked away. He didn't turn his head back around when Sirius shifted closer until he could feel the weight of his godfather's shoulder against his own.

"You also said something about Fluffy..." Harry glanced at him then; Sirius' forehead was bunched up dramatically as he tried to remember what Harry had said. "I'm not really sure Fluffy fits...and beside I prefer Snuffles..."

Harry's lips twitched. He nudged his godfather playfully. Sirius, his eyes bright with mirth, returned the favor.

"Fluffy's a three-headed dog. Hagrid's," Harry explained on a bit of a huff. Sirius sniffed.

"I only have one head, Harry," he chided. Harry snorted out a breath of laughter, and Sirius' face relaxed into a smile.

Harry had no idea why he would have been dreaming about Fluffy, nor could he remember any other aspects of his dreams. But he supposed it didn't really matter, not even that he'd apparently been crying out for Sirius. Sirius was here. They were together. And they were safe.

--

The scooping and glopping didn't get any easier. Not even a little bit. Even though, each time, Harry worked as quickly as he could; he had no desire to have another one-sided conversation with Snape. So the motions remained steady and swift. Harry wouldn't even have noticed the burns were healing if Sirius hadn't pointed it out after Harry had taken his prescribed nap yesterday afternoon.

"Around the edges...and there isn't any more oozing," Sirius had elaborated when Harry hadn't been willing to look away from the back of his own hand. "The salve is working wonderfully."

Harry had simply nodded and returned to his task. And here he was again, doing exactly the same thing, though this time, Sirius was across the corridor. Harry had managed to get away without waking him this morning; he needed to sleep.

"Get away from me." The rasped words immediately halted Harry's motions, with his hand in the middle of smearing on a generous glob of salve. Harry could feel his fingers trembling; he pulled them quickly away from Snape's stomach. He held his salve-coated hand awkwardly in the air.

"You...you were burned."

Snape's face didn't move, save his eyes; they were filled with anger. And then his lips were moving again, and instinctively Harry bent down to hear him. "Out!" The one, furious word had Harry shooting up again. It hadn't been loud, but it resonated in Harry's ears, making him remember shadowed pain--the fear of being taken away from his safety.

He pushed all of it away. Snape had been trying to help him. He had saved Sirius.

It became a silent mantra.

"I have to...finish putting the Burn Salve on," Harry told him quietly, pleased that his voice didn't shake. Snape's lips moved again, and Harry didn't need to get any closer to see that Snape was not in agreement with his plan. "I'm sorry, sir," Harry said sincerely, just as sorry for himself as he was for Snape.

Harry moved more swiftly over the remainder of Snape's recovering skin; he could feel Snape's black eyes watching him. It made his skin crawl. But he kept at it, the mantra keeping him afloat. Snape's intermittent muttered comments, none of which he could hear clearly, sped up his progress.

As soon as Snape's last toe was covered in salve, Harry hastily set the jar aside. He fumbled a little with his wand, but managed to chant the spell over Snape. He glanced at Snape, feeling embarrassment creeping up into his cheeks, though he wasn't certain why. After all, he wasn't the one who was lying in bed, completely helpless.

"I'll have to put the blanket on you now, Professor...to keep you warm," he mumbled, turning his eyes away from Snape again as he settled the warm cover over him. "Are you...are you thirsty sir?" Dodgy had told him that Snape would need liquids.

Snape opened his lips; they were dry and cracked in a few places, but the salve had worked the fastest on Snape's face. He was recognizable again at least. And Harry could see that Snape was trying to deny his need for water. He sighed.

"I'll go get you some water," he said. He hurried out into the corridor before Snape could say anything else.

--

Severus watched Potter turn away but could see no more than that. He listened to the rapid footstep fading away, his feeling of helplessness fueling his fury. How long had he been lying here? With Potter, Potter of all people, as his nursemaid. He wanted nothing more than to take Potter by his scrawny shoulders and toss him into the corridor--who had even let the brat out of his room? Black, obviously. Of course he would be imbecilic enough to trust that Potter wouldn't attempt anything foolish. Even though Potter had admitted to hatching some sort of scheme involving a rescue mission to London...

Severus grit his teeth, one of the few movements he could manage, and prepared to order Potter to leave him alone, but this time he would be certain that Potter obeyed. For once.

Potter's footsteps, hesitant now, shuffled against the old floorboards. And then the whelp was staring down at him, a glass of water in his hand. "You can't sit up, sir...Dodgy said the salve restricts your movements..."

Severus snarled derisively at the stupid boy. Did he really believe that he, a Potions master, did not understand the properties of a Burn Salve? The smell was overwhelming his senses. Potter shifted uncomfortably. Severus attempted a sneer, but he doubted it came to fruition.

"What are you waiting for?" Severus snapped; the words were barely a scratchy whisper, making Severus' temper rise. He would never get rid of Potter with such a timid display. But Potter nodded immediately and brought the cup's straw to Severus' lips. Severus, surprised at his own thirst, sipped greedily at the cool water; it felt wonderful against his throat.

"I...I don't think you should drink too much at once..."

Severus glared at him as the straw was withdrawn. His throat felt like sand. "Are you a Mediwizard now?" The subdued question didn't even make Potter flinch.

"Too much might make you sick..." At least Potter hadn't gained an air of superiority; he seemed nervous. Severus hoped his eyes were narrowed at the boy now.

"Are you finished, Potter?"

Potter winced that time. He nodded jerkily. "I'll come back later...to put more salve on-"

"Get...out."

The deliberate words were suitably harsh, and Potter flinched again. Severus could hear the water sloshing over the rim of the glass as Potter set it down sloppily, and then the green eyes stopped taunting him. Severus was left mercifully alone again.

--

Harry slid his back down the wall, his bum coming to a rest on the floor next to the table in his room, unwilling to disturb Sirius. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the cold, black glare that insisted on pestering him. He didn't care that Snape hated him, and he certainly wasn't surprised that the professor didn't want his help. Harry hadn't wanted Snape's help either when he'd been suffering through the Cruciatus.

"A floor isn't generally the best place for a nap."

Harry opened his eyes. Sirius was sitting up on the bed, peering at him with concerned eyes, belying the half-smile on his face.

"I didn't want to wake you."

"I wouldn't have minded," Sirius told him, the words filled with warm sincerity. He pushed himself from the bed; the almost inaudible groan that escaped through his lips had Harry scrambling to his feet. Sirius grimaced and re-settled himself on the bed.

"Are you all right, Sirius?" Harry asked anxiously. Sirius nodded.

"Moved too quickly," he explained. He turned his head to examine Harry. "What happened?" he asked gently, knowing without having to be told that something was bothering his godson. Harry shrugged. Sirius angled his head so that he was gazing into Harry's worried eyes. "I'm here, Harry."

Harry swallowed, wondering at the sudden emotion the innocuous statement brought to his chest. "Snape woke up again." Sirius tensed.

"Harry, you should have woken me. You don't need to be in there alone."

"You need to-"

But Sirius shook his head, his gray eyes intense. "I am doing just fine, Harry. I told you that already. There isn't any reason for you to care for Snape by yourself, especially after what happened between you two." When Harry looked away, Sirius put his hand on his godson's shoulders. "Hey," he coaxed softly; Harry met his eyes again. "I don't want you to go in there by yourself anymore...all right?"

The slight pressure against his shoulders made Harry feel warm inside; he nodded, wanting to whisk the worry from Sirius' eyes. "Yeah, all right," he agreed quietly. It was hardly a concession, after all, since he really didn't enjoy standing there alone, with Snape's heartless eyes boring into him.

Sirius' fingers squeezed the back of Harry's neck, sealing their pact. "Let's go find some breakfast, shall we?" he asked lightly.

"Only if you'll let me help you," Harry told him, in a mock-stern voice. Sirius chuckled.

"It's a deal."

Harry smiled and slung an arm around Sirius' waist. Sirius leaned into the half-embrace and allowed Harry to help him.