A Study in Black

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any of the characters in this story.

Chapter 4 – A study in black

This chapter is dedicated to my aunt Lia (Giulia), a sweet, intrepid little woman born at the beginning of the XX century. Due to a rare and, at that time, incurable disease, her sight slowly faded away when she was barely older than thirty, leaving her eyes imprisoned in a perpetual world of darkness. As I was one of her youngest nieces, I got to know her only when she was already in her late years: a patient, quiet, tender old woman, who had accepted and survived this sad destiny, clinging tenaciously to her memories, and who savoured in gratitude every little joy and emotion that life could still offer.

Thank you, Auntie Lia, for showing me the real meaning of the word "brave".

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Severus is sitting in an armchair. His cell has expanded. After a few days of continuous improvements in his physical condition, he is allowed to rise and enjoy a little walk in his room. Poppy Pomfrey and Becky Ingham are constantly there to help him and guide his uncertain steps, clasping his cold, rough hand with their soft, warm fingers.

After that first discussion with Poppy, he hasn't renewed his request to have Becky removed, but in a way, his relationship with the girl has worsened. He is now arrogantly condescending, cruelly polite and positively sulky. His sarcastic remarks and harsh comments about her ability often push her to the breaking point. But she persists.

During these difficult days in fact, thanks to Poppy's tacit encouragement, Becky has gradually discovered an inner force she didn't know she possessed. In addition, the girl seems to have developed an instinctive way to deal with such a difficult patient, even though Poppy suspects that Becky must bite her tongue to avoid replying sharply each time Severus deigns to speak with her. However, Poppy has also quickly perceived the feeling of subtle revenge implicit in this otherwise admirable sense of duty: the man who had been so caustic to Becky while in school is now depending so completely on her. How could the mediwitch blame the girl for savouring at least this grim satisfaction, given the constant difficulties of her task?

On the contrary, Poppy shows an extreme patience towards Severus, and this inexhaustible tolerance has initially disconcerted the wizard, and surprised Poppy herself. It took her a while to understand the reasons behind her actions, as her actual attitude is the result of a long bout of regret and compassion.

Madam Pomfrey is a mature, calm, efficient woman, who isn't prone at getting emotionally involved with her patients, as every good doctor should be. "You can't cure somebody if you contract their disease", is her favourite motto, and one of her most appreciated qualities is the brisk but kind manner she uses to deal with people. This characteristic is very well known, as generations of children at Hogwarts have benefited from her quiet, amused understanding when in trouble. But in spite of her highly tolerant nature, Madam Pomfrey must admit that the only one she has never really managed to accept – or to trust completely – has been, beyond a doubt, Severus Snape. Right from the first moment that their new Potions master had entered the castle, she disliked him. He had already been a nasty, unpleasant boy when in school, but as a man, she had found him even more unattractive, bad mannered, exasperating, arrogant, and a lot of other negative traits. Of course, she had always been careful to conceal her feelings, luckily helped by the fact that there had been few opportunities for them to share each other's company, except in those rare times he had accompanied one of his favourite students to the infirmary.

Now, in hindsight, after a war in which he behaved like a hero (at least according to Harry Potter, but why should she doubt?), she realises that her opinion has been sadly and greatly incorrect, that he must have had at least some good (although invisible) qualities otherwise Dumbledore wouldn't have relied so heavily on him. So, being a straight, honest person, the recurrent thought of having misjudged – and therefore condemned – a man without proof hurts her conscience painfully, making her feel deeply uncomfortable.

As a consequence, her attitude towards him begins to soften. During the long days in which Severus lies motionless in oblivion, his features revealing unmercifully every one of his inner emotions, she is constantly at his side. And when he finally awakens in desperate blindness, she becomes even more concerned and thoughtful, observing his anger and desolation increasing. She is aware that he needs support and a guidance to learn how to live in this new world of shadows. But knowing her former colleague too well, she can easily imagine how intolerable it will be for him to depend on somebody else's pity. Bringing this thought to its natural conclusion, Poppy is soon psychologically ready to propose herself as his medical supervisor.

The other mediwizards express their relief. Nobody really likes the man, hero or not. Too many strange facts, too many terrible events in his life; his dark character, his strong connections with so many notorious Death Eaters and his questionable role in the Dark Lord's service make him suspect and unwelcome, even after his "redemption". In addition, there are so many other patients in the hospital needing attention! The decision to entrust Poppy with his care is therefore unanimous.

Now, the first days are tough to manage. Wounded, suffering and overreacting, he is living in a constant emotional storm, rebelling against his condition and violently rejecting the help he is offered. Consequently, Poppy is forced to hold her ground and to be as nasty as he is, imposing her authority with great determination. It is a hard struggle of wills, and when they both seem to have finally reached an agreement, she finds herself entangled in several new, unpleasant and completely unpredicted difficulties.

Annoying, but luckily simple to resolve, the first problem she needs to deal with is the question of his wand because, defenceless as he must feel, he immediately asks for it as soon as he awakes. Understanding his anxiety, Poppy is ready to reassure him. His wand was found in the dungeons after the battle and was brought immediately to St. Mungo's where it was seized by the Security Department. At his immediate, angry protests, she firmly declares that no one except a mediwizard is allowed to keep a "potential weapon" in the hospital wards; therefore, his wand has to be stored in a safe, protected place. In a way, this is true, and he has resentfully accepted to submit to the rule. But Poppy knows very well that this cannot be the real reason for keeping his wand so carefully locked away...

It has been the continuous coming and going of the Ministry's folks enquiring about his condition that has put her on alert. Although all this attention could be seen as proof of his importance and perhaps offers him consolation, she has deliberately chosen to keep him unaware of this. Because, wise old woman that she is, Poppy has the uncomfortable feeling that his worries are not over, and that even more annoying troubles are going to arrive, probably from the same ungrateful people he has contributed to save.

The second problem has been his isolation. Very few people are allowed in his room, and they are always the same: Madam Pomfrey, her assistant, Miss Ingham, and occasionally, another woman, who helps them with little tasks. This last person in particular is really only a voice to him, as he barely knows her name. She is too respectful – or better, too afraid – to exchange more than few, timid words with Severus the rare times he decides to speak.

So, feeling cut off, as soon as his physical condition improves and his mind regains its balance, Severus has cautiously begun to ask about the "others." Having been told about the sad condition of the who have had the dubious honour of being struck by the Dark Lord in the final battle along with him, he now wants to know more about the remaining players of that wicked contest, the ones who are still in this world and the ones who have definitely left it. Encouraged by these first tentative signals of interest, Poppy supplies him with carefully selected information.

The primary object of his questions is, of course, his nemesis and eternal antagonist, the ghost that constantly haunts his dreams, the one he has ended up considering as the other side of his personality: Harry Potter. Why hasn't he shown up during all this time? What is he doing at present? Patiently, Poppy tells him that Harry has come many times to ask about his former professor while visiting his other friends in the hospital, but Severus was still unconscious. Now Harry has left for a sudden engagement, a trip that Madam Pomfrey reasonably suspects to be only an excuse to escape the extreme pressure he is constantly under. But he has promised to return soon, and then he will surely come again to see Severus.

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More and more interested by the news that Poppy attentively doses, Severus successively learns that many other people are luckily still alive and that some hadn't even needed to pass through St. Mungo's. That's the case, for instance, for Nymphadora Tonks, who comes every day to visit Remus Lupin and try to cheer him up a little. Also, Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt had incredibly not even been scratched, as well as Ginny Weasley and her twin brothers. However, many other losses have occurred, and very painful ones. The same Weasley family, for instance, is mourning their intrepid knight of the dragons. Having eagerly arrived from Romania, Charlie Weasley was killed by a dark curse while he was trying to protect his younger sister...

About his ex-fellow Death Eaters, some were sent to Azkaban, and some are still waiting to be processed. Severus is weirdly pleased to hear that Lucius Malfoy, who never managed to escape from his prison and join the Dark Lord, was conceded a visit from his wife and son. Narcissa and Draco are waiting for their trial, too, but it seems that they could benefit from special consideration, as they had been secretively passing information to the Ministry during the last few months. It was due to Severus' merit, of course, even if nobody knows it, and he had taken a great risk revealing himself to the lady and the boy. Obviously, he hadn't been so foolish as to tell them the authentic truth! He had simply disguised the matter under a vest of advantage, letting them understand that the Dark Lord's chances of victory were too scarce to make their staying at his side worthwhile.

It had been hazardous anyway, as both the woman and the lad could have betrayed him, ruining his final plan. But luckily, they were too scared of the Dark Lord and too confident in Severus to even think of such a dangerous possibility. So, Severus now sombrely considers that they should have sent at least a message of thanks. No one seems to remember that he is alive and alone, blind and helpless because of his commitment to the cause. He comes to the bitter conclusion that he has been sacrificed as a worthless pawn, and this intensifies his resentment against the world.

As days monotonously go by, and he tries to get accustomed to his new, imperfect life, more worries and fears add their weight to his already burdened shoulders, making his days an endless struggle against the many doubts and anguishes his limitation incessantly generates. Being a proud, arrogant man, who has suffered so much the horror of being taunted in his youth, Severus' greatest, most haunting fear is to be observed and criticized without having even the slightest possibility of being aware.

Surrounded as he is by darkness, people around him have become a mystery. No more chances to understand, foretell or manipulate their reactions while, on the contrary, he is unmercifully exposed to their gazes. Although he tries to improve his other senses, he can only primitively perceive changes in moods and tones, slight differences in vocal inflections and all those eloquent, terrible little pauses that he never noticed before in a conversation, but that now seem to occur so frequently.

Unsurprisingly, his skills are very limited. He has always depended so much on his sight! His eyes have been more than essential for his survival, and this is why he fights with all his force to overcome his imperfection, refusing to be trapped in its limits. So every day, he opens his eyelids in the desperate, impossible hope of a miracle. Every night, he closes them in a mute prayer. And every morning, he feels unreasonably frustrated, discovering that nothing has happened.

Now he painfully understands what it means to be completely helpless! And this inner, immense vulnerability soon becomes the source of his second greatest fear as well: being helpless, therefore being ridiculous. The first time he tried to eat a meal by himself, for instance, he had inadvertently stained his chin and his robes. Always solicitous, Miss Ingham had instantly been ready to clean him with a towel... like she would have done with a baby. His reaction had been immediate and, as always, excessive. Rising furiously to his feet, he had violently pushed the table away, scattering dishes and food noisily on the floor. Then, rudely shaking off the hand she had placed on his arm in a vain attempt to calm his anger, he had tried to reach his favourite armchair by himself, shouting and menacing the girl in impotent rage. As a result, Miss Ingham had begun to stammer in panic and, in the ensuing confusion, she was unable to help when he slipped and fell on the soiled floor, thus losing what little dignity he still possessed.

Thankfully, alarmed by his incoherent yells, Madam Pomfrey had immediately rushed in, taking the situation under control with two firm reprimands. One – public and meant to calm him – to Miss Ingham for her immature behaviour. The second – later, private and stern – to him for his equally immature behaviour.

However, this humiliating experience has at least taught him to manage his outbursts with more composure. But his is a hopeless battle, as his imperfection is continually adding great and little fears to the ones already existing, like unbreakable rings in an endless chain of sufferings.

The fear of being defenceless. Once a man who was living constantly on alert, impossible to catch unprepared, now he is totally exposed in his shameful frailty. Everybody can reach him, surprise him, harm him, without any chance for him to detect it and therefore react properly. Understanding his uneasiness, Poppy and Becky are always careful to let him know where they are, what they are doing and what they intend to do. They are even more careful when what they need to do involves physical contact or just staying close to him.

The fear of forgetting faces, places, situations, colours; in a word, the main part of the existence he has previously lived. Being enwrapped in total obscurity, he is painfully surprised to discover that images are somewhat slowly fading in his mind. Sometimes he can recall a whole picture, sometimes he can only "see" it partially. Other times he can remember bodies, but not faces, words, but not expressions. Occasionally, his visual memories are changed or distorted in ways he cannot control anymore. So, more and more often, he experiences the uncontrollable need to be able to see persons and places again, even if only for a moment, to focus and fix and readjust his disappearing reminiscences. But he cannot, he cannot, he cannot anymore! While his longing grows stronger and desperately painful.

And finally, the most frightening of his terrors, the total, absolute fear from which all his other fears are generated: the horror of wandering in a world of shadows, populated by fiends that he alone can see. As light cannot filter through his stony pupils any longer, his wake and sleep processes gradually begin to alter. Soon there is no difference between day and night, but nights quickly become intolerable pauses in which he is exposed, alone and unprotected against his dark ghosts. Nobody is there, not even Poppy or Becky, and he is left in his solitary meditation, with no sounds or activities to interrupt or distract him from this forced contemplation. Often he falls into nightmares that awaken him, screaming in terror, damped in cold sweat, shaking in anguish. In these moments, Poppy is the only one he admits in his room, as she alone is allowed to see him in his most abject desolation.

As days endlessly go by, hours and rhythms begin to mix in an inextricable chaos. Feeling protected by the armchair's rigid structure, soon he elects it as his favourite refuge and begins to spend the most part of his nights curled there. During the days, reassured by the quiet, alternating presence of his two assistants, he occasionally falls into little, soothing rests. He knows that both women are ready to awaken him gently should they see that he is entering into his dark tunnel, but their kind compassion doesn't relieve his anxiety; on the contrary, it exasperates him deeply.

Sometimes Poppy tries to propose a pastime to him, like a game, a chat, reading or something similar to distract and relax him by keeping him busy. But what games can be played with no sight, and what kind of conversation can be held when the other interlocutor is constantly in a sulky, sarcastic mood?

However, finally something begins to slowly change. Even though he's resistant at first, Poppy begins a new regimen. A program is prepared to keep him as busy as possible, dividing the day into many little steps, and he is forced to follow their progression.

As soon as he is able to walk, she accompanies him on a daily tour of his little space – a bedroom and a bathroom – making him touch and remember the position of every object. She obliges him (and constantly reminds Becky) to put everything always in the same place so that it can be easily found. Consequently, in a relatively short time, he is able to manage his simplest needs.

Naturally, there are still many little actions he can't possibly handle without his sight, even if they were so easy in his previous life. For example, he can't shave himself properly. But Poppy has a very kind way of asking him if he would like to, making him lean back in the armchair while she passes her wand gently around his face. Once the mediwitch had even asked him if he would like to be shaved "the Muggle way", with foam and a real razor. His head had snapped up in surprise, and he had enquired, sincerely interested, "You know how to do it?"

"Of course," she had replied, laughing. "I used to do it for my father!"

So immediately after, he was given a luxurious foaming shave, and he had enjoyed it so much that he had involuntarily slipped into a peaceful nap. Now he must struggle to dissimulate his anticipation each time Poppy comes in to give him a shave, as he feels childishly irritated at the quiet amusement he perceives in her voice.

He also likes her help when he dresses. He can perfectly manage the entire ritual, but when he has finished, he appreciates her firm, kind hands straightening his collar or giving his clothes a final touch. He is evidently enjoying these little attentions, even if his manners are still sharp and sullen. But these are the only rays of sun in a perennially stormy weather.

So today, like all the other days before it, Severus sits hopelessly in his armchair and tries to think. There is nothing, nothing he can do. Without his sight, everything has become difficult, distressing, exasperating, even with the assistance he is constantly offered. A mind sharp as a razor is now confined to the dark limitations of his skull. He can't read, he can't enjoy a view, he can't manipulate potions as he isn't able to monitor them, he can't walk by himself except in his room... Even his meals are terribly exhausting if somebody is not there to help him chop the food or pour the water in his glass. And he must ask continuously, a humiliating occurrence that makes him feel vulnerable and helpless. Every day is a struggle, and he is beginning to wonder if this frustrating existence can really be worthwhile. Until now, his pride has aided him, but how long will he be willing to persist?

And then, when he begins to successfully manage the majority of his physical needs, he comes to the awful discovery that, in a world of darkness, ears and mouth are his best friends. Once a man who used to enjoy his solitude, eager to transform a conversation into a series of snappy remarks, Severus is at present slowly but inexorably sinking into the desperate need of having somebody next to him, a mirror for his words, an echo for his thoughts. Now he realizes that, in his state, most of the occasions of feeling alive pass mainly through verbal communication and consequently require the presence of other human beings around him; exactly the situation he has always avoided, feared, detested.

As a weird result, although he doesn't admit this need even to himself, Severus is waiting more and more impatiently for a break in his desolate meditation, craving for visitors. But many days of pure boredom have to burn his brain and challenge his stubbornness before his wish can be finally satisfied.