Injured Snape
Chapter Seven: Injured Snape
Binka pulled out some of Snape's old clothes for Harry. The potions master had outgrown the simple trousers and pullovers years ago, but they were still too big for the young boy, but Harry didn't care. He threw them on and followed the house elf outside.
He followed the house elf as she lead him away from the gravelly path of the courtyard to the soft grass of the lawn.
The sun was shining, he could feel it on his face and it was not too hot and not too cold. A great day to be outdoors, then.
The house elf led Harry to the blanket she had spread on the lawn and he sat down on it. He took a few deep breaths of fresh air and felt really at peace for the first time since the holidays started. The deliciously peaceful silence was only broken by the occacional ruffle of the trees or the chirping of birds nearby. The air smelled strongly after freshly mown grass and it calmed him somewhat. Though, he didn't stop worrying about Snape entirely. He was wondering what Voldemort could want from him during the holidays (he is not at school so he can't get any inormation), in the middle of the morning, nonetheless.
The house elf came back with a few sandwiches and Socrates, the cat, which meowed protestingly. It fled into his arms the moment Binka let go of it. Putting the cat into a more comfortable position in his lap Harry started stroking the fur and started on Binka's sandwiches. Binka had left to get something to drink.
The sound of footsteps caught Harry's ears. It was very faint, as if the person were trying to sneak along, but it sounded like it was coming from behind him.
He tensed in anticipation, drawing his knees up and hugging the cat tightly to him.
'Who is that?? Oh god, he'll see me. What am I'm going to do? I wish Snape could be here now! He'd protect me from the person that's coming here. Who would visit Snape except from his Death Eater fellows, anyway? I bet I'm going to be carted off to Voldemort the second that person sees me!!'
He strained his ears on the footsteps in order to discover whether the person was passing him or coming to him. He didn't know what to make of it. The footfalls grew steadily louder and their uneven rhythm told Harry that the person was either limping, or one of his legs was longer than the other. The person was panting which was interrupted by coughing from time to time.
What if this was somebody that wanted to harm him?
"Laures..." a low voice rasped, sounding both surprised and relived. Terrified the small boy's head snapped up. He hadn't realised he was so near. He knew he was shaking in fear again, but he couldn't stop himself.
Something dropped heavily beside him and groaned. Frightened Harry scuttled backwards from the person.
"No. Stay, please!" the person murmured feebly. What was going on?
"Who are you?" Harry asked, his voice quivering.
"Snape..." the voice whispered which was followed by a pained gasp.
"Snape..." he said again.
Harry took a few deep calming breaths to relax and think properly. There was no reason to panic if that was actually Snape. Harry asked if the person was Snape, but he got no response. Scared of what might happened to him, he called his name again. Still no response. He clumsily got to his hands and knees and crawled over to the man. His breathing was ragged and he moaned every once in a while.
Harry found Snape's shoulders and shook him lightly. Anxiously he waited, but the man just groaned in pain, trembling heavily and shaking.
'If I just could see now... then I'd know what's wrong with him!' Harry thought desperately.
He unconsciously sent out his magic and felt that he was severly injured. Thinking back, he remembered that Snape had been away to Voldemort.
Harry had seen Voldemort torturing his servants more than often during his visions and Snape had always been one of his favourite victims. To the boy, it seemed like a wonder that Snape could still be counted as sane for all the Cruciatus' he had been cursed with, yet so was he. Harry had had experienced a slightly mellow form of all of the Cruciatus curses flung at Voldemort's victims during his visions through the link in his scar.
Regardless of whatever form of punishment he'd endured under Voldemort's hands, he'd always seen Snape get up and walk back to his place in the circle of death eaters. A little stiffly, and his face seemed to be set into a permanent grimace, but he always got up. He had never seen him like this, unable to stand and shaking like a leaf.
Harry had discovered some time ago that he was able to heal other people from minor injuries, yet he had never learned how to heal himself. He wished he had. It woud certainly have been useful after one of his visions.
He contemplated trying to heal Snape with magic, but it was a difficult decision. His professor was really hurt, but he didn't trust his wandless magic with other people, especially without sight.
Harry was torn from his revery by a suffering groan. He gathered what energy he could muster within him and took a deep breath. Carefully he turned Snape on his back and fumbled with the buttons of his clothes. As he ran his hands over the robe, it didn't escape his notice that the fabric was torn and ripped in several places. Snape would never be so untidy. This was Voldemort's doing. He felt his anger rise as he freed the man from his robe and shirt. Gently hands prodded and poked Snape, because Harry needed to know where he was hurt to be able to heal him.
Running his hands lightly across Snape's chest, he could feel a number of welts that had already risen. Harry didn't have to be able to see them to be able to know that they'd already be a severe shade of blue and purple.
He moved to run his hands over his arms and stopped suddenly when he ran his hand over a patch of sticky, liquid.
Frowning, he lifted two fingers, already coated in the liquid, to nis nose and sniffed. It smelled bitter and metallic. Blood. He had spilt enough of it himself to be sure.
Harry moved his hand along the wound. It was a single long thin line running from his shoulder to his ellbow, and the blood was spilling freely from it.
Harry placed both hands over the wound and let his magic flow through his hands like he did when he cast a spell or charm wandlessly, molding the magic so it would heal and close the wound. He carefully healed every other wound he could find on the man in the same way.
Suddenly Snape groaned and subsequent started coughing. When he moved to sit up, Harry gently pushed him down again.
"Don't move, Sir. You're still hurt!"
"I am aware of that!" the man replied weakly and scathingly.
"So... sorry, Sir!" Harry apologized and backed away slightly. There was only one man who had such an intimidating and dominating voice, even if it was rather weak at the moment. Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. There could be no mistake! And his current state could only mean the Meeting with Voldemort hadn't proceeded as planed, even though Harry hadn't felt his scar at all.
"Don't stare into space, but help me to get inside!" Snape snarled through gritted teeth. Harry winced at the harsh tone. Snape's nice side had been refreshing. It'd been nice, even though it had been weird, but now Harry could see the irritable Potions Master had come to the fore again. A scared feeling crept over him that everything would go back to where Snape had hated Harry.
But maybe, Harry thought, he was just so snappish, because he was in pain. He would wait and see what happened, he resolved.
With a little help from Harry Snape managed to stand up, complaining that Harry had partially undressed him. He gathered the strewn clothes and the blanket, groaning every time he bent down to pick something up, and dumped them in the boy's arms.
Harry timidly stayed where he was. When Snape had handed Harry the first cloth, he had jumped, but he realized fast what Snape did. Then he was tensely waiting for the shouting that was surely about to come, but Snape was silent.
Together they walked back to the manor, Snape supporting himself on Harry's shoulder.
Back in the mansion, Snape led Harry to his chambers and collapsed onto his bed. Harry sat down next to him on the edge of it. He had healed the professor as best as he could, but some of his injuries were beyond his expertise. He was nervous and didn't know what to do.
" Is there anything I can get you? Anything that might help, Sir?" he asked uncertainly. Harry didn't know why he'd asked. He was blind, so what could he do for him?
Drawing up his knees he wrapped his arms around them and rested his chin on his arms. He felt so helpless, though he really wanted to make Snape better. He had been kind to take him in, which he hadn't been forced to. He could have left him there in the fields. Harry felt obliged to return the service, though he didn't know what he could do forhim.
When Snape hoarsely called for his house elf, the long haired boy jumped and nearly fell off the bed.
The elf popped into the room almost instantly.
"Bring me the usual selection, Minna!"
"Of course, Master Snape Sir! Right away, Master Snape Sir!" the elf squealed utterly delighted that she could be of help and she bowed so deeply that her nose almost touched the thick rug. Then she disapparated with a loud crack.
"What selection? You must mean your potions, right? Which ones did you ask for?" Harry inquired curiously, albeit timidly.
For a few minutes there was silence and Harry could feel Snape staring at him.
"I suppose that telling you is as good a way to pass the time as any." Snape drawled. "I requested two vials of a potion to help the aftereffects of crucio, a pain-relieving draught and a salve for the wounds." He explained tiredly.
"What did Voldemort do to you?" Harry asked concerned.
"The usual round of tortue, because I did not give him the answers he wanted to hear. He... wait a second! I did not tell you that I was going to meet the dark Lord this morning. How do you know about him and myself?"
"So you were with him." Harry mused quietly. He realized that this was going to betray him and shifted nervously. Though he knew he had to answer the question, because Snape would never let go before he got an answer.
"You didn't tell me!" he whispered apprehensively. As soon as the words had slipped out of his mouth he regretted saying them. Considering he was desperately trying to hide his identity from Snape, telling the truth was the most damaging thing he could have done. Snape wasn't stupid, and if he wasn't careful, he would discover Harry's secret. But he couldn't help it. He was used to telling the truth as is had been decidedly better for his health. Uncle Vernon had always forced the truth out of him, whether he had lied at the beginning to save his skin or not. He had learned over the years that telling the truth from the beginning didn't soften the beating for what "he" had done, but he avoided the beating to get him to confess. However, to confess meant he had to take the blame for everything gone wrong. He had always been the one to blame so uncle Vernon could vent his anger on someone.
"I thought as much! So, pray tell me, how did you know?" Snape growled, however, the curiosity hung lightly in his voice and softened his anger.
Harry had always been perceptive of other people's moods and noticed this. The knot in his heart loosened slightly and he sighed in relief. Snape didn't seem to be in the mood to start yelling or striking him this instant.
Minna popped back in and gave the professor the dearly needed potions. Snape's breath was erratic when he sat up to drink. Harry could almost feel his eyes boring holes into him, while he took the potions, never letting him out of his sight. Harry wisely stayed silent until he heard the vials being slammed on a table and the cover rustled.
"I've heard of him and the Death Eaters before!" Harry admited quietly.
"How can you know about something like that when you never really heard of Hogwarts?" Snape's voice had gone deadly quiet and he hissed with narrowed eyes.
"You have been lying to me. I do not appreciate being lied to. I think it's time you started telling the truth - or stick to one story if you have so much to hide from me!"
"I'm sorry, Sir!"
"Explain," He demanded, irritated. "Laures!" he added after a short pause, stressing his chosen name with a sneer.
"I think it's better for both of us, if you didn't know who I am!" Harry stammered, backing away to the other end of the bed. He was sure there would be hell to pay now.
"Believe me, it will be better for you if you tell me the truth. Otherwise you will leave me no option but to force it out of you. One way or the other, I will discover what you are hiding from me." Snape threatened snidely.
'I knew it! It was just pure luck that he'd never had the chance to beat me up in school. He'll catch up on that now, I'm sure!'
"N-no! You can't!" he pleaded, scooting further away from him. He sat, his back pressed against the board of the end for the feet, cowering from his professor. Snape seemed to be popped up with pillows, half-lying and facing the young boy.
"I can make you tell me in more than thirty ways, you know. Shall we do this the easy way, or the hard way? I'm sure you won't like it my way!" Snape menaced maliciously.
"You really won't want to know! Please, Sir, let it go!" Harry whined, his voice thick with unshed tears of fear.
"You can leave it to me to decide what I want to know or not!" Snape growled, leaning forward.
"Fine. I'll tell you!" Harry cried. He took a deep breath and lifted his head.
"I'm Harry Potter!"
He was shaking again, when he heard a sharp inhale of air. Shutting his eyes he raised his arms in a protective gesture and inwardly prepared for what was about to come.
"Many people claim to be Harry Potter, though I cannot for the life of me understand why." Snape spat after a while. Harry didn't dare looking up, but he whispered.
"First you want to know the truth and when I tell you, you don't believe me. I am Harry Potter." Harry insisted. "Didn't you see that bloody famous scar on my forehead?"
Snape seemed to be thinking, because there was no sound for a while.
"Yes, there is indeed, though its rather unnoticable among the other scars. I think I will believe you." There was another pause, then Snape sneered. "You've always been a bad liar, Potter! Now, get out. I'll think about what I'll do with you later."
"Please, don't tell anyone! Please!" he begged desperately.
"We'll see about that! Get out, NOW!" he barked, panting. He was about to whip out his wand and hex him. The prat had nothing better to do than getting on his nerves. He still didn't know why he was acting so strangely. He stared angrily and confusedly at the cowering child. He already felt a headache coming, and just wanted to be left alone so he could think everything through.
Harry leapt off the bed and raced out of the door and down the following corridor, unconsciously sending out his magic to sense his sourroundings, so he wouldn't run into a wall.
He didn't know where he ran, but he didn't care either. He just kept on running and turning the bends until he had exhausted himself. After tripping over his own feet, he stumbled and fell to the floor where he remained, sobbing uncontrollably.
++
Snape lay on the bed, unmoving. He felt odly betrayed by the young boy, but he didn't know why.
That brat, Potter, here, in his house! He would have laughed at the absurdity of the idea if he had not just thrown the boy out of his own chambers.
He went through the arrival of Potter at his home and what had followed, when he suddenly remembered that he'd checked 'Laures' for any signs that might indicate he had Potter lying in front of him, because he had thought he knew the person and couldn't place it, but except from the reddish green eyes there was no resemblance. His famous scar that had always been blatantly in view had been nowhere to be seen.
But then again the boy might not have been Potter. He might have lied. He might have been just another brat who had assumed the name so he could share in the fame and attention that followed the name. If he was just another child from the bordering village he would surely have a lot of scars in the face, so that's no indication for the truth.
Potter looked quite different from this child in other points as well. The only thing that was alike was their hair colour. Potter had had short unruly hair whereas Laures' hair reached down till the middle of his back. He thought that Potter was quite a bit taller than Laures, as well.
However, the fact that was most important was that Potter may have been half-blind without his classes, but with them he could see perfectly normal and Laures was completely blind.
When Laures had told him that he said he was actually Harry Potter, though, he had felt inclined to believe him. He had sounded sincere when he had spoken and Snape felt a sourge of emotion rush through him. He wanted to disbelieve Laures, but after what he had witnessed he could not. He had grown fond of the small lad. He didn't want him to be the boy he despised. How was he to behave now? Should he hate the shy and probaly abused boy just because of his name and his behaviour at school? How can one person be so different, anyway?
Nobody could change so drastically in such a short time, could he? It was hard to imagine his Laures and Harry Potter as the same person. Their behavior was also very dissimilar.
'Maybe it has something to do with what happened before I found him. Didn't he say, he ran away from his relatives? The Potter boy is worshipped at home. What would make him run away? Especially, because he knew Voldemort would go looking for him. The undeserving prat. He has no clue how to survive in wild life. Then there is the question why he is blind and how he got so far away from Privet Drive. Or why he'd been in such a bad shape when I found him. Laures has been severly injured and in an imperative need of a shower. Why would Potter be in such a state?'
He resolved he would have to ask these questions later. Now all he wanted was to go to sleep.
Feeling the effects of the potions start to work their magic on his bruised and beaten body, he settled himself under the covers and fell into an exhausted sleep.
It was early evening when he awoke. Yawning and stretching he sat up und climbed out of the bed, squinting his eyes against the glaring sunlight that streamed through his window. He groggily stood up and noticed that he needed to shower and change his robes, which were wrinkled and creased from sleeping in them. Something was nagging at his thoughts, but he couldn't pinpoint it.
Dressed in fresh robes, he looked around in his room. A quick glance at the clock on his nightstand told him that it was already half past five in the afternoon, so he called one of his house elves and told him to make dinner.
His gaze shifted to the nightstand again. However, the clock wasn't what caught his attention on it this time. It was the empty vials that lay on it. When the memories rushed back and reality hit him, he sat down heavily on his bed. This morning he had been with the dark Lord and the boy he'd picked up had confessed to be that bloody boy-who-won't-die. What a bloody wonderful day! Just that damn headmaster is still missing for the day to be completely miserable!!
So it was an extremely annoyed professor who walked down to the dining room. He sat down in his usual chair and only a minute later the food appeared on the table.
Just the sight of the delicious food began to cheer him up and he ate joyfully until his was interrupted by - how could it be any else - the appearance of the Headmaster's head in his fireplace, which was the only one with a floo connection.
Severus groaned and his mood sank instantly. That was just what he had needed. As if the day hadn't been bad enough already. He put down his cutlery and turned to face Professor Dumbledore.
"Albus, how very lovely to see you! What can I do for you this time?" Severus asked in a strained voice.
The headmaster looked gravely at him, the ever-present twinkle in his eyes gone. This made Severus nervous. It was never good when he lost that damned twinkle.
"First of all, why don't you tell me what Voldemort called you for?" Albus asked politely.
'That man has the worst timing of anyone I know. And he always distracts you from the matter he came for. Why does he know about the meeting at all?' Severus thought, feeling more and more confused.
"It was nothing of importance. I had nothing to report to him and he was extremely displeased. That's it." Severus answered flatly.
'And if you don't want to see me dead you should give me more things to tell him.' he added silently to himself.
"You have no news to report? You have heard nothing? Nothing about Harry for example? Or about an attack somewhere?" Albus questioned curiously.
"No, why do you ask? Has something happened that I hadn't been aware of?" Severus replied warily, turning a bit more in his chair.
"Well, to be blunt. Harry seems to have disappeared. It is as if he has simply vanished. My thought is that Voldemort had him kidnapped and tortures him!" Albus explained sadly.
'Potter has what? Hang on a minute, does that mean that Laures really is Potter?'
The child that lived in his house had claimed to be the Harry Potter. Laures had told him that before he had found him, he had been living in the wilderness for about two weeks. He was surprised that no one had noticed that he wasn't with his aunt and uncle before now.
It was so ludicrous that he started laughing. It was a cold harsh laugh without feeling, but the mental picture was too ridiculous not to.
"May I ask what you find so funny that you are laughing like some madman? I understand that you and Harry are not fond of one another, but to laugh at his misfortune is rude, even for you, Severus!" Albus rebuked him sternly.
"I am completely sane, I'll have you know, Albus! I just find it funny how quick you are to notice that something is amiss." Severus remarked once he got himself under control again.
"What do you mean, Severus? What are you not telling me?" the headmaster looked suspiciously at him.
"Nothing. I have neither seen the prat nor know anything about his whereabouts. I have been here the whole time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have hings to do!" Severus said, resolutely turning back to his dinner.
"One more question, Severus!"
Severus sighed loudly and looked at the Headmaster, knowing that he couldn't deny Albus anything.
"Very well."
"How is your young charge?" he asked his twinkle firmly in his eyes again, because he knew that Snape wouldn't like to have a child running around in his house and messing up his potions. Severus sighed deeply. He had totally forgotten about him when he came down.
"How do I know how Laures is? He's upstairs in one of the guest rooms!" Severus grumbled, throwing his hands in the air.
'There is that damn twinkle again. Sometimes I just want to punch him to wipe that glint from his eyes!!!' he thought viciously.
"If you have no more questions, I would like to finish my dinner. Good evening, headmaster!"
With one last look he picked up his fork again.
"Very well, my boy. Call me if you know something. Have a nice holiday!" the headmaster said cheerfully and his head vanished from the fire which changed its colour into the normal one again.
TBC
A/N: Hi, danke für die Kommis!!!
Mangacat: was meinst du mit hartem stück arbeit, die ff zu lesen???
Auch danke an DarkEye und Pummelluff.
cyu as^^
