Chapter Four

DUMBLEDORE

I was so proud of them, all of them. I thanked Merlin that these children, for they were still children in my mind, had been the ones to find him. They had looked at the impossible, and had seen no barriers; they had sifted through the debris of what had been Severus Snape, and poked among the dross until they found some tiny anchor on which to hitch our slim hopes.

Neville and Ron were taking turns to stir the ghastly contents of the silver cauldron. I had approved the ingredients, and I confess I did that more in faith than knowledge. It could do no harm, and we were so far out of the parameters of recorded healings that, if this worked, I suspected that young Neville Longbottom could retire before he reached the age of thirty on the proceeds of any book on healing that he might care to write. But that was where it all fell apart, that "if", because I could see no improvement, save for the straightening of his cramped limbs, and the surface cleansing of wounds that were, to my eye, already putrefying. I could not feel him, and he had never been closed to me; that, above all else, frightened me, and made me search my heart to see if I had been right in allowing them to come so far.

'It's ready, Professor,' Harry said as he crossed the clearing to me.

We both turned to where Fawkes sat on a large smooth boulder, keening softly to himself in a way I had never heard before. He lifted himself into the air, and hovered over Neville's brew for a moment, before he dipped his wings and wept four pearly tears into the cauldron. It hissed and roiled and gave off a purple mist. I nodded to Neville; this was his show, I could not help until I was asked.

*****

SIRIUS

We had all eaten. Minerva and Kingsley had produced a wonderful stew, and I have to admit that I felt better, better equipped physically to see out however long it would be. I wondered what I meant by that: how long until he rallied, perhaps? How long until he died? I stayed out of the way this time, to give them room, all the time desperately trying to stifle the hope that was trying to rise in me. I knew Dumbledore wouldn't have let them drag this out if he didn't think there was some type of chance; he wouldn't have been so cruel to them. I noticed that everyone had stopped asking what was happening, stopped crossing the clearing to see what Neville and Hermione and Ginny were doing, standing in unlikely little clusters instead: Mad-Eye and Remus and Ron; Harry and Albus and Poppy; all the others who had come and gone, as though wanting to steal of piece of this night for their own memories of him.

There was a kind of fretful restless hush hanging over us, broken only by Neville and Hermione's voices, and the odd comment from Ginny, and the crackling of the blaze on the other side of the wall against which he lay. I caught Dumbledore's eye as he watched Fawkes fly back to his boulder to begin his pitiful song again, but the old man looked away, and my heart fell lower still.

I began to worry almost as much for Neville as I did for Severus; I hoped it wouldn't destroy the man we all saw he could be if... well, if it didn't work.

*****

HARRY

Total silence had dropped over the dozen or so people who had chosen to stay the night. Hermione was kneeling with her ear to Severus's chest, and talking to Poppy Pomfrey at the same time, as Neville put a finger on the pulse point at his throat, and Ginny sat back on her heels, holding one of his white hands in hers. That touched me somehow, that simple act of comfort. Remus had crossed to sit on the back wall with Sirius; I left him to it, he had known Sirius for a lot longer than I had, and if, well... if the unthinkable happened, I suspected Lupin was better equipped to deal with Sirius than I was.

I felt so helpless. Why couldn't I have been the one to sit at his side, and hold his hand the way Ginny did? Why hadn't I had the courage to tell him I believed in him, on that dreadful day I had seen him last? Why did I feel the crushing weight of responsibility for something that was not my fault?

I watched as Neville un-stoppered a small flask, and conferred in a whisper to Poppy Pomfrey; she nodded and helped Ginny lift his head and open his mouth. I held my breath as Neville put a few drops of something onto Severus's tongue, and he and Dumbledore began to chant; Merlin alone knew what it was.

Ginny began to work with the cauldron, pouring small amounts of the purple liquid into little beakers which she sat in a row; every couple of moments she handed one to Neville, and he poured the potion into Snape's mouth while Ginny massaged his throat. I could scarcely believe this was the same Neville I'd shared a dorm with for seven years; our world had so many more heroes than I'd ever thought. I could feel Sirius and Remus move to just beside me, as we all watched on in silence.

It seemed like hours later that Hermione lifted her head away from his chest; a weary little smile touched her lovely face, and I could see a muscle jump in her jaw, as my breath caught in my chest, and Lupin put his hand on Sirius's arm.

'I can hear his heartbeat now,' Hermione said, and she began to cry.

*****

SEVERUS

Something was different; everything was different, but I couldn't seem to stay conscious for long enough to grasp what it was. At first I thought I had moved, or been moved, but I doubted either was possible; perhaps I had just moved on. And each time the pain returned, it came from a different part of me, and then I would sink back into blessed oblivion. I didn't know when it was that I fully realised I was at Hogwarts, how many times I had wakened, confused and in agony, only to be sent straight back to sleep until both my mind and my body could support the notion of life.

I became aware bit by bit, anchoring onto different voices: Dumbledore, Pomfrey, Longbottom, Merlin help me, Granger, even worse, and possibly Ginny Weasley, and I began to wonder if I were being used as some sort of guinea pig for the apprentices to practise on, presumably being not much use for anything else. I know it was a couple of days before the full impact of humility, that would haunt me for many years to come, manifested itself in my awareness, as I finally understood just who had saved my life. There was one voice I didn't hear though, and save for the fact that I seemed to recall Potter saying to someone to call Sirius, when I had been at the old Riddle House, I would perhaps have thought that he had not survived the final outcome.

I was just drifting off when I heard voices again, and decided to pretend I was already asleep. Truth be told I didn't know how to handle all the attention; I found it uncomfortable, stifling, and didn't know how I would find my way back to my familiar isolation, my exalted position of pariah, my sanctum sanctorum.

'I think he's asleep.' Granger's voice.

'Doubt it.' Potter.

'I doesn't matter anyway.' Granger again.

'You'll wake him with that.' Ronald Weasley.

'Let me assure you, Ronald, that I can give the best and least disturbing blanket bath in the known world.'

'Let me assure you, Miss Granger,' I snapped back, without opening my eyes, 'that if you make any attempt to touch my nether regions with a sponge, or anything else, for that matter, that I shall blast your former house to negative points in your memory.'

'I told you he was awake.' Potter's voice.

'Right, you lot, bugger off.' Sirius Black.

My heart turned over.

*****

NEVILLE

I had been a bit scared as I walked along the dungeon corridor that first time. Dumbledore had asked me to take the first and second year Potions class for a couple of weeks until everything got sorted out. I had doubted I'd manage, but it had gone quite well. No one had blown the classroom up, and there was no one as terrified of me as I had been of Professor Snape; that made me smile a little to myself in some sort of reflection at memories which, whilst not quite happy, weren't really sad either.

I went up for lunch that day and sat with Harry and Hermione, and Ron and Ginny. We were all staying in guest rooms at Hogwarts; there was a lot still to do and we all had adjustments to make to the differences in our lives. I was taking Gryffindor and Slytherin in a joint double period of Potions just after lunch, and helping out in the Infirmary later in the afternoon. I didn't mind; it all kept me busy.

All in all I hadn't had much time to reflect on what had happened.

*****

SIRIUS

It had been six weeks since we'd come back from Little Hangleton, after having stayed there for two tortuously long days, until Dumbledore and Neville thought he was strong enough to move. He hadn't regained consciousness for another two weeks, and our greatest fear had been that he hadn't left himself with enough magic to replenish his former power. Looking back, I think he enjoyed watching us tread on eggshells around the subject, until Neville managed to upset a vase of rather fierce looking thistles, which Minerva had placed at his bedside, all over him. He cleared the resultant mess without even lifting his wand from where it lay accusingly on the nightstand, the arrogant fuck.

He was undoubtedly the single most difficult patient ever to have graced the Infirmary, and I'm sure Poppy Pomfrey felt relieved to have his bad temper spread amongst Neville, Hermione and Ginny, all of whom bore it with amused fortitude. The moment he could support himself with the aid of a cane, he left to go to his own rooms; nobody saw fit to attempt to stop him.

It would be nice to say that we wiped out twenty-five years of hurt with a couple of smouldering glances, that some profound change had come over both of us, but that wasn't true. The letter was never mentioned; it wasn't necessary, he knew I'd read it. Some unspoken understanding had passed between us though, and I felt comfortable in the knowledge that he cared as deeply for me as I cared for him; maybe one day we'd start our courtship, we had a big backlog to clear.

I could tell he was uncomfortable about the place in which he found himself: the centre of some sort of attraction, having to bear enquiries into his health and wellbeing with some sort of grace, even the open friendship of some. It was all alien to him, and I knew he needed to don his black cloak of hostility again, and slink away from the limelight, and didn't know how to.

He was sitting at his table when Remus and I called after lunch, listening to Wagner on his gramophone, smoking his black cigarettes and drinking whisky; a slim volume of verse lay open on the table. He watched us, black eyes as unreadable as ever, as Remus took two more glasses from the cupboard above the stone sink in his workbench, and we made ourselves comfortable. Albus had decided it was time he went back to work, and had left it to us to break the bad tidings. I'd thought long and hard about how to go about it.

'You're getting lazy, Severus,' I said, as I poured one each for Remus and me and topped up his glass. 'How long are you going to sit here and let everyone else do your work for you?'

He let his lip curl. 'Until the end of term at least, why?' He picked up a piece of parchment that looked like a class timetable, scanned it, and looked across at us. 'Haven't you forgotten something, Black?'

'Me?... No, I don't think so.' I looked at Remus, who was biting his lip to stop laughing.

'I am here... you are here, making free with my whisky.' He gave Lupin a look. 'Even your understudy is here... whilst Gryffindor and Slytherin second years are at this moment in my classroom. Which brave soul, dare I ask, is ensuring that it is not buried under a thousand gallons of slime?'

I looked at Remus, but he'd ducked under the table to find something he hadn't dropped. I tried very hard not to smile as I delivered what I hoped was my coup de grace. 'Neville Longbottom.'

His recovery was even more miraculous than the one he'd done between us finding him at Little Hangleton, and arriving back at Hogwarts. He stood up, donned his black academic gown and his scowl, and swept out of the room before Lupin could surface again.

'Hey, Severus,' I called to his ramrod straight back. 'You forgot your cane.'

He didn't break his stride, and I almost fancied I heard the terrified hush that dropped over his classroom as he pushed the door open.

Severus Snape was back.

*****