Discoveries

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any of the characters in this story. This story was created many months before the release of DH.

Infinite grateful thanks to my betas Jynx67 for her patience, Pennfana for her useful considerations, and Ladyinthecloak and Notsosaintly for their final revision.

Chapter 2 - Discoveries

As soon as he wakes up again, Severus frets with impatience. Now positive that he is safe, he cannot wait to ask and to receive answers. Strange emotions for a man who has cultivated control for almost his whole life! But he doesn't care, he only wants to speak with Poppy now. He tries to rise, but immediately he realises that he is too weak even to call for help. And these damned bandages on his head and eyes! He knows he was injured, since his head is aching awfully when he moves it, but these bandages are an annoying limitation, because they don't allow him to see. Is it day or night? How much longer will he have to wait? Again, he has to muster all his resources to resist his devouring impatience. It's a matter of will, more than ever, and he struggles to keep his mind under control.

Thankfully, an answer comes after only a few minutes of torture. The same light steps he heard before, the same warm fragrance, the same gentle touch. But this time, he is ready to speak. "Who are you? Where am I? Is this St. Mungo's?"

"Professor!" A delighted, unbelievable, unmistakable note of happiness comes from the voice; nobody has ever addressed him with such joy. "You're finally awake! Oh, I'm so glad! Everybody here will be so pleased! How are you feeling?"

But he is Severus Snape, and things must be done the way he wants.

"Who are you? Where am I?" he insists forcefully.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" The girl answers hastily and he can sense the smile in her voice. "You are in St. Mungo's, of course. They brought you here after the battle... and I'm Becky Ingham. Do you remember me, Professor? You taught me in sixth year, but I passed the N.E.W.T. with Professor Slughorn, as you were..."

She stops, embarrassed. Foolish, clumsy girl! And so young! How can people at St. Mungo's depend on such unqualified assistance? Have so few of the experienced Healers remained that he has to be watched over by this clearly untrained girl? He feels a deep rage rising.

"Yes, I remember you, Miss Ingham, a remarkable failure in my class! How could you pass the N.E.W.T. in Potions and enter such a renowned institution like St. Mungo's? Now, let me guess. Knowing Professor Slughorn, this is not that difficult. He is so well known! How did you bribe him, crystallised pineapples?"

Life is flowing more and more powerfully in his veins with every sarcastic word he pronounces. He enjoys his strength coming back, although now he can perceive the girl physically retreating from him, her voice sounding incredulous and sad.

"I didn't... buy my admission! I worked hard to improve my marks because I've always wanted to be a Healer," she says in a resentful tone.

"How fascinating!" he answers acidly. "But I still believe you are too young to be a qualified Healer. May I ask why I must suffer your attention? Perhaps you are using me as a subject for your experiments?"

The girl swallows before replying. She seems to choose her words carefully, as if she is trying to remain calm and aloof. "I personally asked for the... the honour of assisting you while you were unconscious." Her voice trembles a little. "My primary duty was to check your condition, which I have done constantly for the entire time you have been here."

"What a commitment!" He sounds even more detestable. Obviously, her performance hasn't impressed him. On the contrary, he is decidedly infuriated that he's been seen in such a vulnerable state, and worst of all, by one of his former students!

Suddenly, a new, disturbing thought crosses his mind.

"How long?" he asks brusquely.

The answer is shocking. "Twenty days, Professor."

"Twenty days... I have been here... for twenty days?" His voice is a whisper now, his hands shaking slightly.

She can see the different emotions twisting his mouth, which is the only visible portion of his face. Surely now he will understand her sacrifices and dedication. She hasn't slept properly in days! Lately, her head has been continuously spinning, and she has been seriously, even if reluctantly, considering the idea of asking for a substitute.

But he only sighs deeply, then he declares in his usual venomous tone, "I am sure you did your best, Miss Ingham. Best being obviously a relative term. Now, may I ask you a favour? Leave and send me a more competent person with whom I could talk."

Not a thank you or a word of acknowledgement... only contempt and harshness. She wonders what she was expecting, anyway. After all, he was her teacher for six long, insufferable years. She lowers her head and says quietly, struggling against tears of rage and humiliation, "I'll call a Senior Healer immediately, Professor."

She leaves the room quietly but, with his now sharpened senses, he can hear her just outside the door, speaking with someone else. Evidently, others have gathered by his room. He feels pleased he is finally considered important, and his impatience rises consequently. He wants to know, he needs to know. He's already cursing himself for not having specifically asked for Poppy... because she is there, he knows it!

Then the voices become louder, and he can hear distinctly the words pronounced by another unknown, astonished woman. "You mean he threw you out?"

The girl replies, her voice beginning to break. "I was so happy for him! Why does he have to act like that?"

"Because he is a bastard; hero or not, he always has had the same arrogant manner. You'd think he would have learned better, but some people simply can't! Now, don't cry, dear, don't blame yourself. You did all you could, more than expected. Look how tired you are!"

The girl sounds rather childish with disappointment. "I... I thought he would have been happy to see one of his students!" Then, suddenly embarrassed, she stammers, "Well, I didn't exactly mean... see."

The other voice says with a practical, professional tone, "I know what you mean, dear, and this surely is one of the loveliest things you could wish for him. But with those eyes, I doubt he will ever be able to see again."

Words fade in the distance. The two women have gone somewhere else, leaving him in a cold sweat. His heart is sinking in desperation while his mind simply refuses to accept what he has just heard.

His eyes... lost forever? How can he live, how can he work, how can he practice magic without his sight? No, no, NO! It must be a mistake. Surely, he's confused; after all, he is ill. Twenty days in this bed, where is Poppy Pomfrey?

"WHERE IS POPPY POMFREY?!"

He is shouting now, his body is shaking in panic, his hands opening and clenching frantically, while the terrible words keep repeating in his head. "But with those eyes, I doubt he will ever be able to see again... But with those eyes, I doubt he will ever be able ... But with those eyes, I doubt he will ever be able ... But with those eyes, I doubt he will ever be able ..."

Suddenly, the door opens and slams with a powerful thud.

"Please wait outside, Becky, I'll take care of him," says the firm, reassuring voice of Poppy Pomfrey.

He stops thrashing immediately and tentatively extends a hand. "Poppy!" he whispers, shaking violently. "What happened to me? My eyes... are they lost?"

He feels her warm, comforting hands on his hands, then on his shoulders. "Severus! So you have finally awakened! I'm so happy!" Poppy is efficient as always, but he can perceive an uncharacteristic uneasiness in her usually brisk manner, and this makes him even more anxious. "Now calm down, I'm here to help you. Tell me, how do you feel?"

His shivers are slowly placating now, though he is even more irritated and worried. Why is everybody being so kind and willing to reassure him? Why doesn't Poppy reply with her usual frankness? The pressure on his shoulders gets firmer. Reluctantly, he answers. "My head is aching terribly, and I'm feeling very weak," he admits grudgingly. "But that doesn't matter, I know everything will be all right soon. Meanwhile, my eyes... This blindfold... Poppy, please..." He has never sounded so imploring. He hates himself for being so helpless and the woman in front of him for keeping him in the dark.

"Severus, you have always been brave. Really..." Her hands hold him tightly to keep him from moving. "I think I should apologise for the many times I believed you were a traitor and wished you all the worst. Maybe this is not the right moment, but we all are in your debt now, and I will personally make sure that you have the best medical treatment. Please trust me."

Her voice is calming. She is a Healer and a professional, used to dealing with children often out of control. However, these expressions of sorrow are unexpected on her lips. Severus waits tensely. He doesn't want to interrupt, but he is scarcely interested in her apologies. His entire life had been full of hate, derision and contempt. Not even one person on either side he has served was ever a true friend, except for his great mentor and protector, Albus Dumbledore. So he never cared for feelings. Perhaps he might in the future, but what kind of future is waiting for him now?

Perfectly aware of his tension, Poppy continues, her hands always keeping him firmly settled. "Now, I will explain what happened. You were brought here unconscious, so you weren't able to give us an explanation. We had to ask Harry Potter, the only one that was awake, wounded, but still responsive. Do you remember anything about the battle?"

"Just a part... Memories are still coming and going. I suppose the Dark Lord is no more?" he asks wearily, realising he doesn't effectively remember too much of what happened.

"Yes, Harry destroyed him, but he succeeded only because of your help, which is why everybody in the wizarding world is now greatly indebted to Severus Snape." A soft smile in her voice, then sorrow returns. "Our victory was a sad one, however, because of the many lives that were lost to defeat that vicious monster."

An impulsive, unexpected question rises, and it surprises him. "Lupin?"

Her hands tighten abruptly. "Alive, but paralysed; he won't be able to walk ever again."

His reaction is frantic. "What do you mean, 'ever again'?" he asks angrily. "You are Healers! Can't you help him? There must be a way!" And he feels uncomfortable because he knows that it is not Lupin's tragedy that upsets him so much, but the sudden awareness that not all can be solved, even by magic.

"Severus, calm down!" Poppy reprimands him gently. "It's nice of you to be so concerned because I remember well how you dislike him. But he was unfortunately hit by Lord... Voldemort himself! Dark Magic and a very powerful spell. There is nothing we can do for him at the moment, but we are trying very hard to find a solution, believe me. We owe him a lot, too."

"I'm glad to see how valuable we have become!" he snaps sarcastically.

"Severus!" Poppy is sad, but somewhat comforted to see him reacting the usual way.

He snorts. "Weasley?" he asks again.

"Which one?" The answer takes him by surprise. He hadn't thought of them as an entire family. But before he can reply, Poppy is already continuing. "Oh, sorry, I should have imagined, the youngest, Ronald. He, too, was found with you... Well, he..."

"He?" His tone is sharp.

"His body has been burnt almost completely by a Dark Curse. His skin has dried and become rigid; he can barely move his arms and legs without lacerating himself..." Her voice is trembling now.

He stiffens. What a price paid to save the world!

"Granger?" He is implacable.

"Oh, the poor one! She cried so much when she awakened. Her face is disfigured, like Weasley's body... And she can't speak properly, as her lips have been practically destroyed..."

Severus is storing all of this information mechanically. There is no more room inside to feel compassion. Only rage, terrible rage. He tightens his lips, and Poppy, noticing it, turns professional again. "But there will be time later for this unfortunately sad news. Now, let's speak about you. You have been lying unconscious for twenty days. I think Becky Ingham already told you that."

Her tone now changes a little, becoming firm. "Incidentally, Severus, I don't think you conducted yourself appropriately with that girl. She has dedicated a lot of time to you. I know she is not a trained Healer, but she has good will, patience and resistance. These are the only and best qualities needed to tend a patient in the state you were... if 'patient' is a word that can ever be applied to you." She allows herself a quick joke, hoping to see a reaction.

He doesn't comment, and Poppy continues in that brisk, efficient tone doctors use when they want to mislead their listeners.

"Well, you are awake and in your usual grumpy mood. I believe that this is a clear sign of rapid recovery. Of course, you are weak now because you haven't eaten properly, but I'm certain that in a few..."

"Poppy!"

His hand has seized her wrist unexpectedly, with a force that leaves her astonished. But tears fill her eyes as she sees how much his hand is trembling.

"Poppy!" His voice is now a whisper, full of fear. "Have I become blind?" She hesitates and his grip tightens. "Please, tell me the truth!"

Silence. Again he implores, "Poppy, please..."

It's a plea, it's a hope, it's an anguished doubt, but she is troubled and uncertain about giving him a sincere reply. Never has she seen her usually short-tempered colleague so desperate! But he will have to know, sooner or later, and after all, he is Severus Snape. A wave of emotion washes over her body, and finally, Poppy nods in assent, even though he can't see her. She speaks concisely, in brief sentences.

"You too were hit by a Dark Curse. Your eyes are permanently burnt. More than burnt. They have become stones. I examined them personally while you were unconscious. It's Dark Magic. There is nothing we can do at the moment."

His hand stops trembling, and he takes a deep breath. Then, abruptly, he releases his grip, crosses his arms abruptly over his chest and turns his head, as if refusing to listen anymore. Exactly the reaction she had feared.

"Severus!" She calls him forcefully now, almost shaking him. "You have always been brave, don't give up right now! There are other sources we can search... Please believe me! I will help you..."

"You are too late. Now please, leave me alone." His voice is cold, distant, bitter.

"Severus!"

"Go away!!!"

"Severus..." she pleads once more, but his face is dark and brooding. She knows him too well to attempt saying something else. Her news was too much for him to handle at once.

Sighing hopelessly, Poppy resumes her professional, detached tone. "We will be constantly here, so please, do not hesitate to call me or Becky Ingham if..."

"I don't want to see that girl anymore!" he replies harshly and irately, before realising what he has just said. How ironic the everyday sentences in life have become! Suddenly, he feels as if something is cracking inside him, and he curls into a ball, pushing his hands on his useless eyes. His body begins to shiver uncontrollably; then the shudders become more and more intense, while little gasping sobs escape his lips.

Poppy sadly watches the total defeat, the final humiliation of a man who had learnt to perfectly rule his emotions, who was even able to suppress them completely if he considered it necessary. Moved, she turns her head away, feeling like an intruder in such a private moment. Not wanting to embarrass him even more, she backs away, noisily enough to let him know that she is leaving.

And suddenly, another terrible realisation comes to her. He cannot cry! His dry orbs cannot produce fluid any more, and this will certainly make his desperation even more painful without the gentle, soothing consolation of tears washing away his sorrow.

Poppy shakes her head in discomfort, then slowly retreats and exits quietly, leaving him alone. But, as soon as the door closes after her, she leans against the wooden frame and listens in anguish to the sounds of his torment, feeling on her cheeks the warm drops he can no longer shed.