Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"I will kill him," Draco murmured into his beer. "I will go home, put my hands round his neck, and strangle him. And then I will burn his body. And then I will throw his ashes in the wind." Taking another sip of his drink, the young blond man staggered unsteadily towards the counter and was rewarded with a double whiskey appearing in front of his nose.

"He's already dead, anyway. I would only put an end to his misery. Maybe I should wait until he's asleep. Then I'll go and... and... smash his head in."

"Smash in whose head, Mr Malfoy?"

"Snape's head," Draco slurred, slouched back in his chair once more and being just a bit too drunk to think, but not drunk enough for not realising what he just had said. His head snapped up only to find another former teacher looking down at him with a mixture of concern, disgust, and sorrow.

"Oh fuck," Draco murmured and tried to hide behind his glass. He expected to be arrested any moment, but he was certainly in no condition to run.

"Severus has been dead for more than four weeks, Mr Malfoy," Remus Lupin said, his voice hard. "Do not make fun of him where I can hear it. I warn you; I won't tolerate it."

That heated Draco's temper. "Won't you, werewolf?" he sneered and stood up on swaying legs. "Why not? You despised him, you hated him, you're as glad as all the others that he's dead!"

Lupin reached out just in time to catch the young man before he fell over his own legs. Usually, he would have put the boy back on his chair and left; for some reason, he didn't do so tonight, being far too surprised to see Draco Malfoy here after he had vanished during the battle. So instead of leaving, Lupin first organised a coffee, then took the seat opposite the blond wizard. Silently, he cast a spell over the cup that would have sobered up even an unconscious drunkard and pushed it towards Draco.

When Draco had taken the first sip, Lupin said, "Whatever you have heard about me hating Severus Snape, it is wrong. I never hated him, not even when we were at school. He never accepted my friendship, but I certainly won't allow you to speak ill of him. Is that clear?"

Draco gave a bitter laugh and drained his coffee. Somehow he didn't care that Lupin, being one of the good guys, could send him to Azkaban within the blink of an eye. His head cleared rapidly, and he didn't like the feeling – it reminded him of the responsibility back home.

The sheer thought of going back there made Draco's stomach cramp. And from one heartbeat to the other, he made a decision. "He's not dead," he whispered, not sure if the werewolf would hear him at all – he just needed to say it. "He's not dead. Not yet. He's dying, he refuses to eat, he wants to die, but he's not yet dead." Draco didn't look up when he said those words.

A silence answered him that weighed tons. Finally, Lupin managed a, "What?" in a strained voice.

Draco buried his head in his arms. "He's in my house. Snape. I found him, I dragged him away from the Shrieking Shack; I saved his life. Well, Granger had done the first half, but I got the antidote. He's alive. Snape's alive. And I can't stand seeing him dwindle away any longer. Please, arrest me. Take me to Azkaban or wherever else. Find someone else to look after him!"

Remus's voice was ice-cold when he stated, "Severus Snape is dead, Draco. He died on the floor of the Shrieking Shack due to blood-loss and snake venom. Harry, Ron, and Hermione witnessed it. There is no use in denying it."

Draco's head whipped up and he snarled, "Well, Lupin, I have witnessed him dying for nearly a month, as it happens in my house. He's nothing but skin and bones anymore, the wound doesn't heal and rips open at any given opportunity, he barely sleeps but sits in this damn chair, staring out of a window with closed curtains. He's in lousy condition, nearly too depressed to breathe, and I don't even know why." Anxiously, he scanned the pub to make sure no one overheard their bitter little chat. "Potter might have seen Snape fall, but he hasn't seen him die because he simply didn't!"

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was nothing he could say to this ridiculous statement.

Draco leaned over the table, knocking over the empty coffee cup. "You don't believe me, werewolf, do you?" he hissed. "Then tell me – why didn't you find Snape's body? Why is his grave empty?"

Remus paled and dug his nails in the smooth surface of the table. "You cannot know this," he croaked. "Apart from me and Poppy, no one knows that the Shrieking Shack was empty when we got there to retrieve... him."

"Nothing but pools of blood, you mean," Draco replied, wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers. He really didn't like thinking of blood, neither now nor any other time. He had seen Snape bleeding too often in the past few weeks, had tried to seal the heavy, deep wounds the snake fangs had ripped too regularly to care to think about it ever again.

"You cannot know this!" Remus repeated heatedly and got up. "Tell me why you know we didn't find Severus! We believe Nagini pulled him into the nearby woods and... well. What do you know?" He reached out and grabbed the younger man's collar, ripping him out of his seat.

Draco didn't even bother to fight. Entirely sober now, he just looked calmly into the werewolf's eyes and said, "I already told you. Nagini didn't find him; I did. And now he's in my house, hating me for bringing him there. And guess what – by now I'm an expert when it comes to brewing Blood-Replenishing Potion; I'm really good with binding spells because he used to fight badly against me and my sorry attempts to heal his wounds; and, as I have pointed out, he's dying. Wanna come along and see for yourself?"

Gulping heavily, Remus released the boy and staggered back a step. His head was in turmoil, but he managed to get one important question out. "If it is true what you say – why didn't you get help? Why didn't you tell anybody?"

Draco sneered. "And let him go to Azkaban? Never! He's saved my life; I owe him. Everyone knows he was Voldemort's second-in-command; I bet the Ministry would love him to be alive simply because then they would be able to kill him properly. If I had told anyone, he would have received a Dementor's kiss by now. But I will protect him, whatever it takes."

Remus closed his eyes, not believing what he just had heard. The boy obviously didn't know anything... "Have you been with Severus all the time since you found him?" he asked, playing along and assuming for the moment that Severus indeed was alive. "Did you listen to the radio? Did you get a newspaper?"

Swiftly, Draco got up and put his jacket on, heading towards the door. "I've been stuck with him ever since that night, Lupin. No news, no paper, haven't even talked to anybody apart from Snape. My parents are in Azkaban, awaiting their trial, and I decided it would be best to go into hiding to prevent the same happening to me. Tonight's the first night I'm out, and see how lucky I am – the person I bump into is someone who will tell the Ministry where to find me. Great." With that, he pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool midsummer night.

Remus was after him in just a few, long strides, catching up with the blond wizard in the darkness. Once more he grabbed the young man's shoulders, hard and demanding. "Take me to him," he ordered. "Take me to Severus. And Merlin have mercy on you if he is really dying. Severus was always on our side, has been double-spying on Voldemort for two decades. You would know that if you'd read the paper. He's been given an Order of Merlin, First Class, post mortem two weeks ago. He's a damn war hero – we would've never sent him to Azkaban. If we had found him alive, we would have taken him to St. Mungo's to the best Healers available!"

It was Draco's time to blanch and to gulp. "What? But... but... I... I didn't know that!" he stammered.

Lupin just pushed him on. "Take me to him, Draco. Now."

**********************

Draco's house was not far away from the pub. They only needed a few minutes to get there, Lupin walking close to the young man beside him. Draco had his head down, presumably deep in thought. When he put the key into the keyhole, muttering a spell whilst doing so, he said hesitantly, "I've never told him. I thought it would be for the best, with him not really recovering."

"Told him what?" Lupin asked, stepping into the dark hall and closing the door behind him.

Draco ran a weary hand over his tired face. "I never told Snape that Voldemort is dead. I assumed it wouldn't do him any good, knowing that his master had been killed by Potter. I thought Snape had been loyal to Voldemort until the end." He looked at Remus Lupin, eyes wide and uncertain. "But he wasn't, was he. How could I know he wasn't – how could I know..."

"Good gods, boy," Remus whispered, dread building up inside him like a bushfire. "Severus really thinks Harry lost? That all his effort had been in vain? Draco, Voldemort himself gave Nagini the order to kill Snape!"

Another riddle solved. "I. Did. Not. Know!" Draco shouted. "I didn't know that he had us all fooled! He killed Dumbledore! I thought... I really, truly thought not telling him would be for the best!"

"Where is he, Draco?" Lupin interrupted, and Draco just pointed upstairs.

"Second door to the right," he said. "You can't miss it – when you go inside, it will be pitch black. He despises light."

Not really listening to the last words, the werewolf took the staircase quickly, found the requested door, and didn't hesitate before opening it.

Draco was right. The room was dark. But then, it was night, and maybe Severus was asleep. "Lumos," Remus murmured, and light flooded the small room.

Sideboard, armchair, bed, a small table. The bed was empty, so was the armchair. Just a cold, deserted room. No Severus. Of course not, Remus thought. He's dead, and the boy is mad. But then he saw the second door, leading to the bathroom. There was no light in there either.

Taking a look wouldn't do any harm, Remus decided. If he didn't check, Draco would tell him that Snape was having a shower, or was hiding behind the sink, or had flown out of the window... Harder than necessary, the werewolf pushed this second door open, expecting to find nothing else but another empty room.

He found an empty room, empty apart from a shower, a sink, and a toilet. His wandlight cast eerie shadows over the tiles, and a shiver gripped him – it was even colder in here than in the bedroom. The window was open; wind blew its cold breath into the house. Small, heavy drops slowly and regularly hit the tub. The half-closed shower curtain danced slightly in the chilly breeze. The room smelled of water and soap and faintly of the wet grass outside.

Remus felt a faint pain in his heart when he realised that, for a few minutes, he had truly believed he would find Severus Snape in this sad little house, in this horrible, cold, dark, room that reeked of loneliness and despair. He had hoped with all his might that the Potions master was still alive, that they had buried an empty coffin not because its owner had been dragged away and feasted upon by a giant snake, but because he was actually not dead.

Of course this hope had been foolish. Remus turned and left the bathroom.

Then he heard it. Being near the door already, the werewolf heard that strange little sound that made the small hairs in his neck stand up and sent a shiver down his spine.

This sound... he knew it. Every human being knew that sound, as every human being at one time or another made that sound.

The sound of chattering teeth.

Remus whirled round and rushed back into the bathroom, pulling back the shower curtain hard enough to rip it off its hooks. Throwing it into the corner, he sunk to his knees to be at eye level with the man who sat at the bottom of the tub, fully dressed but soaking wet, obviously freezing, obviously only half conscious at best and shaking violently. His teeth were indeed chattering badly. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped round his legs. His head was bent low; long black hair hung as a dripping curtain down to his shins. Remus couldn't actually see the man's face, but it was still clear who it was.

Severus. Wearing only a shirt and trousers. Sitting on the bottom of a shower in an ice-cold bathroom. Shaking and shivering and wet. Barefoot. His pale, naked feet made him look even more vulnerable than his beaten position.

Very slowly, very carefully, Remus put his wand on the ground and placed his hand lightly on the man's wrist.

"Severus," Remus whispered, not trusting his own voice. The boy had been right; the Potions master was alive, but in an awful condition. Taking a cold shower in the middle of the night, fully clothed, was nothing a sane or healthy man would do.

Then the werewolf became aware of the heat under his hand. Why heat? he thought and placed his other hand on Severus's shoulder. Under the cold, clammy fabric of the shirt he felt burning skin. He's freezing; there can't be heat.

But there was. And Remus knew why as well. He's injured; he's developed a fever, and that's why he got under the shower – to fight it.

Severus was injured, yes, and very ill. But definitely neither insane nor with as strong a death wish as Draco might have assumed.

Remus tried to pull his former colleague out of the tub. "Severus," he urged. "Come on, let me help you, let..."

That was the moment when Snape lifted his head and stared right through Remus Lupin. His black eyes were huge and incomprehensible in his ghostly white face. It was clear that he didn't recognise Remus – he was elsewhere, far too gone to recognise even his own name, radiating heat as if he had been sitting too close to a blazing fire and not spending an hour or more under cold water.

"I won't go back," Snape whispered, barely audible, but determined. And he tried to get away from Remus's gentle hands.

"Severus, you need to get out of the shower!" Remus insisted and hardened his grip.

Snape, though, began to fight against those hands. "I cannot go back! It will kill me – it is killing me, and I will not go back!" Under the harsh words, there was so much despair in Snape's voice, such a heavy, pleading subnote that Remus found it suddenly hard to breathe. Something was scaring the life out of Snape – a terrifying thought.

"Go back where, Severus?" Remus asked as soothing as possible. "The only place you must go to is to bed. You are ill; you need care."

Obviously, Snape hadn't heard him. His whole body shook with cold and fever, and his fingers dug holes in his own flesh. "Go back to the Dark Lord. Go back to spying. Can't do it. Won't do it. It's breaking me to... even... to think about it." His black eyes were blazing with fever, fear, and the will to get away from Remus. With one violent push Snape slipped backwards to the farthest corner of the shower tub, trying to get up at the same time but slipping on the wet ground.

Remus leapt forward and just managed to steady him. He was now half in the shower himself, one leg inside and with the other kneeling on the rim. "Oh, Merlin," he breathed. "Severus, you don't have to go back. Voldemort..." But in mid-sentence, the werewolf felt how the tormented body in front of him suddenly got slack and sagged sideways, all muscles limp. Fastening his arms round Snape's chest, Remus was just able to catch the unconscious man before he hit the ground, picked him up, and finally managed to get Snape out of the tub and the bathroom. The werewolf left a wet trail on the floor whilst crossing the small distance to the bed.

"Draco!" Remus called, carrying the sickly light body easily in his arms. "Draco, get up here immediately!"

Apparently, the boy had been waiting outside the door as he reacted to the call in no time. "Hell" he swore when he saw the sight before him. "Damn, I shouldn't have left him alone, I should have stayed in the house, I..."

"Get the covers off the bed," Remus snapped, and when Draco had done so, the werewolf carefully put Snape on the cream coloured silk sheets. They got soaked instantly, not only with water but with blood as well. "Found him in the shower," Remus told the young wizard, Accio'd his wand and had Snape's wet clothes removed with a quick flick. There was no use in drying them – he needed to know where the blood originated, and the shirt was nothing more than rags anyway.

Snape was lying stretched out on the bed, his limbs shivering even in his unconscious state. He tossed his head; he didn't lie still.

Disbelieving, the werewolf's eyes wandered over the deathly pale flesh, the sunken stomach, the ladder of ribs clearly discernible in the dim light. The joints stood out, each bone was visible, even the ones in the thighs and upper arms. No wonder he's so light, Remus thought. There's barely anything left of him!

"Told you he wouldn't eat," Draco said defiantly.

Blood was slowly, but steadily running down the Potions master's chest and his neck, out of a nasty looking wound Draco had seen far too often and Remus hadn't seen at all until now. Sharply, the werewolf sucked his breath in at the sight of it, then covered the naked body up to the waist with a sheet. "Dressings," he demanded, and Draco just handed them over, sinking on the chair that usually was occupied by Snape.

"Should have stayed in," he murmured again and watched as Remus placed a bandage on Snape's injured shoulder, lightly adding pressure as the man on the bed, even though he was unconscious, continued to toss and turn. "You will need binding spells," Draco sighed. "He always fights, and they keep him still at least long enough until the wound is closed again."

Remus didn't listen, just pressed the bandage to Snape's shoulder, watching in horror how fast it got soaked with blood. "Get Poppy," he told Draco over his shoulder. "I'll take care of him, and you will go and get Poppy Pomfrey here, no matter what you have to do to find her. He needs treatment, professional treatment, and he needs it soon. Go. Hurry."

"But... " Draco began, then stopped, staring at Snape and Lupin for a very long moment. This was out of his hands now, for the good or for the bad. And Lupin was obviously not here to kill Snape, but to help him. So Draco turned on his heel and left the room without looking back.

Remus barely heard him leave. Severus had begun to move even more restlessly in the past minutes, and Remus saw no other way to keep him still but performing a binding spell as Draco had suggested.

With a low, desperate moan, Severus fought even harder. It ripped Remus's heart to pieces to hear that sound, to hear the fear in it and the pain. Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything else but strengthen the spell – each tossing of the head, each movement of this far too thin body tore the wound open even wider. Blood-Replenishing Potion, Remus thought, and as the boy had mentioned it earlier on, he gave it a try and Accio'd a phial, hoping Draco had built up a stock.

Draco had indeed, and Remus had the phial in his hands only a moment later. He uncorked the phial and put it carefully between Severus's ashen lips.

Snape coughed and spat out the contents – only a few drops made it down his throat, but Remus hoped it would do for the moment. But then Snape redoubled his effort to break the binding spell. Although he couldn't move an inch, his muscles were trembling with the attempt to get up, get away from whatever he was fearing, and the bandages were already soaked with fresh blood once more. There was no use to try a simple stitching spell – it wouldn't work anymore. Not on that wounds.

"Damn shit," Remus muttered and placed both hands on Severus's naked, haggard chest, hoping he could calm him and let him know that he wasn't alone.

Surprisingly enough, that seemed to soothe the fighting man. Snape took a deep, shuddering breath and lay still for a moment, really still, and seemed to relax a bit as well.

Thoughtfully, Remus sat down on the bedside, having a closer look at the man he had known to be dead for a month. He felt the fast, unsteady beat of the heart under his palm, he felt the heat the fever caused, he saw Snape's eyes move under the closed lids.

Then Remus observed that the wound Nagini had ripped in neck and shoulder wasn't the first one Snape had received. Along his ribs he could see faint scars, thin, long scars, dozens and dozens of them.

Frowning, Remus carefully turned Snape round halfway so as to be able to have a look at his back.

More of those thin scars. The whole back was covered with them, and maybe, in daylight, they wouldn't be that visible even; but here, with the small light from a wand that brought more shadow than actual brightness, they were there.

Remus ran a fingertip over one of the scars. They looked... they looked... Hmmm. Actually, they resembled wounds a whip would cast.

A memory popped up, and Remus remembered what Albus had told him about three years ago when he had been a teacher at Hogwarts. That Voldemort possessed a whip, a magical whip he liked to use on his enemies as well as on his followers. A cursed whip that caused unbearable pain, burned like fire even hours after the torture, and caused horrible hallucinations on top of it.

Albus hadn't told him that Severus had been a victim of the whip, and more than once, by the looks of his back.

Sick to the bones by the cruelty those scars proved, Remus continued to trace the faint lines. "What have we done to you," he murmured, sadness and grief in every word. "How badly you had to suffer for our cause. And I didn't even know about it. None of us did."

Then he felt Severus's muscles tighten, felt him start fighting again and hastily snatched his hand away. He could only hope that his touch hadn't triggered a nightmare, and gently he let Severus's beaten body slip back onto the cool sheets.

Tossing and turning. If Severus went on like that, he would loose too much blood. He wouldn't survive the night.

Draco had been gone for maybe fifteen minutes; he'd need at least two hours to find the matron, and it was vital to calm Severus down. So Remus clamped his hands over the man's upper arms – it had worked before, touching him. "Come on, Severus, behave yourself," he half pleaded, half scolded. "If Poppy finds a fresh corpse in my care, she'll know I fucked this up completely, and then she'll rip my head off. You don't want that, do you? You certainly would rather rip my head off yourself. So please, relax!"

Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was a coincidence, but much more likely it was a miracle: Snape's attempts to free himself from his ties weakened, and a moment later, he lay still again.

Having been unaware of the strength it had cost him to hold down a body that was much lighter than it should be, Remus wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and leaned back against the footrest of the bed.

As soon as his hands had lost contact to Snape's skin, the Potions master picked up his fight again, even harder than before. Not knowing what else to do, Remus cast another binding spell.

"No!" Snape rasped. "Don't! Not again, please not... not again!"

Remus paled, but finally had an idea what was wrong here. Binding spells make him panic, he concluded. Physical contact calms him. I need to remove the spells.

Suddenly, the werewolf figured that there was only one way to keep his patient calm. As gently as possible, he pulled Severus's torso up, lifting the spells at the same moment, and ignoring the painful gasp, he slipped behind the unconscious man. One leg on each side of the bony body, the werewolf then wrapped his fingers over each of the Potions master's thin wrists, crossed his arms over Severus's chest and thus had him in a quite effective grip that allowed Snape to move his head, his hips and his legs, but kept the upper body and especially the shoulders still.

If you survive this night and if you ever find out I cradled you like a child in order to calm you down, a ripped off head will be most certainly my smallest problem, Remus mused. But a faint smile was curving his lips – he already felt the struggling man surrender to the close body contact, to the safety the gentle grip, so different from binding spells, promised.

After another few long moments, Snape's head came to rest against the werewolf's shoulder. And when Remus began to talk, to tell the man in his arms the most useless rubbish he could imagine – about Tonks, about his son Teddy, about the weather outside and the dinner he had eaten the previous night – Remus heard Severus drawing a deep, shuddering breath and sinking deeper into unconsciousness. No more fighting. No more tossing.

"Thank Merlin," Remus murmured. "Now all I need is for Poppy to be found and dragged back here before he dies."

A/N: With her agreement, I borrowed the whip from Lariope, who borrowed it from shellsnapeluver.

Lariope describes the whip and its doings more detailed in her story "Second Life." Shellsnapeluver's story is called "Love is a fire."

Many, many thanks to both of them for letting me use it.