Bonds of Affection

His ear to his bedroom door, Harry listened to the sounds of Snape muttering under his breath, slamming his fist against the wall, then eventually, heading into his bedroom. Harry wasn't going to move - but the sound of something falling heavily, a terrible crash, changed his mind. He rushed out, and pounded on Snape's door, then tried pushing it in. The door did not budge.



"Sir?" Harry demanded. "Are you alright?"



No answer came. Harry pressed his ear to the door. He couldn't hear anything - not even the sound of the man's breathing. All instructions and orders forgotten, Harry felt his heart racing.



"Alohomora!" Harry cried, pointing the wand at the door. It took several attempts, but the door finally yielded, and Harry flew into the room. The sight in front of him made him nearly gasp in shock. Dark blood was trickling out from the gush on Snape's head, pooling around him on the floor. He was unconscious, but still breathing, his entire body convulsing with each breath.



For a moment, Harry stood there with his mouth wide open. He pointed his wand at Snape and uttered the "Rennervate" spell. A tremor of agony appeared to run through Snape's entire body, but he did not wake.



Harry pointed his wand at the cut on his head, and uttered "Episkey". The spell elicited a shudder from Snape's body, but the trickling of blood did not slow down.



Harry started pacing around the room, unsure what to do. He thought of contacting St. Mungo's, or the Hospital wing of Hogwarts, but he remembered Snape's solemn warning about not informing anyone.



On an impulse, Harry attempted to place a firecall to Dumbledore. and discovered that the Floo and the firecall connections were blocked. Snape must have blocked them just before he left, Harry thought dejectedly. He ran back to his room, and jotted down a note to Hermione - hoping she would still be at the Weasleys:



"Hermione - need help at Snape's. Urgent. Apparate!"



Hedgwig took off with the letter, and Harry rushed back to Snape's bedroom. He sat on the floor next to the man, watching him in terror, listening to his rasped, labored breathing. Time passed, but the convulsions were not easing. Harry had never seen anything like this, not even from Cruciatus - and he was beginning to feel nauseous from the sight. Still, he remained by Snape's side, not daring to move away and leave him alone.



An hour later, Hermione banged on the front door of the Manor, and Harry hurried to let her in.



"What's so important that I am risking expulsion for Apparating illegally?" she demanded.



"Come take a look," Harry whispered furiously, and brought her in. In Snape's bedroom, Hermione stared at his shuddering body with dread.



"What happened?"



"Don't know," Harry said. "Voldemort summoned him. He returned... when I found him, he was like this.”



Hermione nodded thoughtfully. She was fighting to keep a calm appearance, but Harry could tell that she was shaken up by the sight. Eventually, she shut her eyes and took a deep breath, and regained a measure of composure.



"Alright," she said softly. "Let's see." She leaned over Snape's' body, and examined it, her hand touching his skin, lifting his eyelids. She cast a few basic revealing spells, as Harry watched gratefully. At least one of us has a brain, he thought wistfully. She wasn't doing anything too quickly, just gathering information, and assessing the situation, calmly and cautiously. Somehow, her calm translated to Harry, as well, and he found himself relaxing, if only a little.



"He appears to be in pain," she said. "But no assessable physical damage, other than the cut to the head. Perhaps it is psychosomatic. What have you tried so far?"



"Episkey and Rennervate," he said. "Do you know some other spells... something that could help?"



"A few," she murmured. She pointed her wand at the body in front of them and commanded:



"Panaceo!"



The spell had an effect – but not as Harry had hoped. The convulsions became more rapid, and more violent.



"Take it back!" Harry cried out. "Undo it!" She didn't need to be told twice.



"Finite Incantum!" Hermione blurted out, flicking her wand. Somehow, it made things even worse. Snape's entire body appeared to be gripped by indescribable agony. Cautiously, she took a step back and gazed at Harry in terror.



"I don't think I should try anything else," she said with a tremor in her voice..



"Do something!" Harry whispered. "A numbing potion... something..."



She shook her head. "It's not a good idea to try and get him to drink anything right now," she said quietly. "In this condition - he would just choke on it..."



Harry looked at her miserably. "Can't you just spell it right inside him?"



"No," she whispered. "Too advanced. Requires a good year of medical training... And if it makes things worse, too, how am I going to get it out?"



"Well ..." Harry muttered dejectedly. "What are we going to do now?"



"I don't think I should do anything else," she murmured apologetically. "Every spell I said so far, made things worse. I think we should just let him... ride it out. Not try and do anything."



Harry felt a knot in his stomach. Nausea and guilt gripped him as he heard her say that. "Just like he said I should," Harry whispered weakly.



Hermione glared at him. "Let me get this straight. He told you something like this would happen - and not to touch him - and you didn't listen?" she asked icily. "And you didn't bother volunteering this little piece of information?"



Harry just nodded dejectedly. "I thought it was just pride or... spite... or...Oh.... and he told me not to call for help, too.”



For a second she looked like she was going to snap at Harry and chew him out, but the look of complete horror and misery on his face apparently dissuaded her. She sighed wearily. Harry looked at her plaintively.



She went into the bathroom and returned with a towel drenched in cold water. “Press it against the cut,” she told him. “And try not to move his neck, just in case...”



Harry nodded absently.



“Unbutton his robe a bit and loosen the clothing around his neck,” she said softly. “That will help him breathe more easily...”



Harry nodded again, and followed her instructions. When he touched Snape's neck, his hand almost jerked at the sensation – the man was burning with fever.



"Well," she said quietly. "I'm quite tired, so I am going to lie down. Wake me if he gets worse, or changes color, or starts vomiting, or stops breathing... If he is not better by morning, we'll have to figure something out.”



"Like what?" Harry asked bitterly.



"Don't know," Hermione said reluctantly. "I could Apparate near Hogwarts grounds, and walk to the school, to find Dumbledore... Do you want me to go now?”



“I don't think so,” Harry whispered. “Hermione... stay. If something worse happens – I have no idea what to do.”



She nodded, and collapsed on Snape's bed, with her clothes and boots still on, and wrapped herself in his blanket. Harry slid to the floor, sitting next to the lifeless body of the man, and watched him. He reached out to Snape's hand and held it. Fiery fingers grasped him, digging into his skin, nearly crushing his hand. He did not mind. He just sat silently, feeling more and more horrified with every moment, not taking his eyes off the pale face and the black hair stained with blood.



Hours went, and the convulsions subsided. The breathing evened out and became more measured. Harry sat and watched. Eventually, Snape's eyelids fluttered, and Harry was faced with a piercing glare of black eyes. Harry stared into those eyes, as if hypnotized. The fingers released Harry's hand abruptly.



Harry wanted to look away, but found himself unable to do even that. He continued gazing back, both mesmerized and horrified, unable to even utter a single word.



Eventually, it was Snape who looked away. He stared at his own hands, regarding them thoughtfully, as if not recognizing them.



After a long, heavy silence, Snape pulled himself up to sit on the floor, and surveyed the room. He glanced at the ruined lock on the door. The dark eyes narrowed slightly as he saw Hermione's sleeping form on his bed, and the trail of mud and dirt on his blanket.



"Good morning, Mr. Potter." Snape's voice was oddly unemotional, apart from the usual note of cold irony in it. "Just out of curiosity, what spells did you use to torment me?



"Episkey. Rennervate. Panaceo," Harry mumbled dejectedly. "Then, when that didn't work... Finite Incantatem, to reverse... but even the reversal made things worse... "



"Very nice," Snape said sardonically. "Do remind me to give your House some points."



Harry found his stomach clench. He struggled to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat. Eventually, when he found his voice, he said :



"I'm sorry. I should have listened to you."



Snape gave him an odd look. "Don't be sorry, Mr. Potter. Nothing happened to me tonight that I did not deserve. And as for listening to me - why start now?"



The man stood up, and draped his robe around himself. He cast one more glance at his bedroom, shook his head disdainfully, and walked out without saying another word.