Invictus

I'm in love with BBC's Sherlock Holmes. Their Sherlock reminds me of the Doctor and Severus rolled into one delicious package. Definitely check it out if you haven't already!


When Severus entered Potter's room with the requested potions for the head Healer, he found him and the other Healer dead. Hardly a surprise -- they knew too much --, but it had happened much sooner than he’d predicted. Potter could not possibly be healed. The boy lay naked and deathly still on the table; the only observable change from the previous day were the silver manacles encircling his wrists.

"I've cut off his magic," said the Dark Lord, floating the dead Healers out the door like two grotesque puppets. "I've no reason to go into his mind without Legilimency-"

Rather, you want to keep him from yours.

"-and he doesn't need his magic. I've allowed a small connection to remain between us so I may sense his pain and know if he's harmed. From now on, you are to hurt him only in my presence, and you will minimise your use of magic around him."

Severus didn't fully understand the bizarre request. The order concerning magic usage was nonsensical, for he knew of numerous ways to kill an individual without causing pain (the Killing Curse for one), and many forms of treatment required a period of pain as part of the healing process. What did the Dark Lord hope to gain if he remained connected to the boy's nervous system? Was it a way of monitoring the Horcrux? And how could a pair of manacles keep Potter from using his magic? Severus had never heard of such a thing. "Shall I pump him full of painkillers whilst I attempt to heal him entirely on my own?"

"Yes," said the Dark Lord, missing the sarcasm entirely. "Ideally, keep him sedated until I arrive to examine his progress. There's no need for him to wake on his own."

Unfortunately, as much as he wished to agree with the plan, it had one major flaw. "Keeping the boy constantly sedated will entail far more care than if he is allowed to wake and move. I'd have to feed him, bathe him, evacuate his bowels, rotate his body, and massage his limbs." When the Dark Lord looked as though none of that made the slightest impression on him, Severus quickly added, "It would require me to spend several hours each day caring for the boy rather than brewing. He can't harm himself when he's awake if we don't allow him access to anything dangerous, and we can't measure how well his body has healed unless he demonstrates fluidity of movement. I can feed him potions to increase the length of time he spends asleep, and I'll keep him compliant and quiet, but the less time I spend with Potter, the more time I'll have for my other duties."

The Dark Lord glanced at Potter and asked, "Why is he covered in bruises?"

What did that mean? Was his request granted or refused? You fucking- "A side effect of the healing process we used on him, my Lord. His extreme injuries forced us to focus on stabilising his body and holding it in stasis rather than attempting to repair each small amount of damage. Dark Magic requires cleansing, or else no amount of healing spells will ever make a difference. We used a temporary skin to hold him together, but now the temporary skin is shedding, as skin naturally does when it's old, and injuries not yet healed are surfacing. Small wounds will reappear but are simple to fix. The difficulty is in stopping him from aggravating his injuries through movement during this phase, but I believe it's necessary to let him wake on his own and see how far he's progressed."

Red eyes fixed on Severus. "You can't test while he's unconscious?"

"No, my Lord, I cannot." It was difficult not to put emphasis on the 'I', but somehow he managed.

"Very well," said the Dark Lord, letting his dissatisfaction show. "The cuffs will make him more manageable, and the rings on the cuffs and bedposts will help you confine him. I ordered the Healers to stock the bathroom cabinet with everything you need. Put him in his cell and watch him continuously, stopping by his cell periodically throughout the day to check on him. I'll return shortly to examine him myself, but in the meantime you will keep me updated on his progress."

Still confused as to the purpose of the Dark Lord's newest commands, Severus said, "My Lord, unfortunately I own no owl and must remain here. How shall I communicate with you?"

"I will send a trusted associate to your Potions Lab every few hours. You will send me updates and requests through them."

Wonderful. Just what I've always wanted. This was getting worse by the second.

"Yes, my Lord." Severus bowed and the Dark Lord left without a backward glance.

Removing the viewing spell from the ceiling, Severus floated Potter down to the cellar. The second bedroom had been converted into a prison cell as he had ordered; however, to his dismay, the bathroom remained unconnected. Instead, a toilet and sink now occupied a corner of the room. Idiots. He'd have to drag the brat out for showers. Shoved into the other corner stood the bed, its four silver posts rising to the ceiling. Severus parted the cell bars and stepped through, placing Potter in the centre of the tousled, blood-red sheets. The crimson contrasted sharply with Potter's pale skin, making him seem all the more corpse-like.

Bending over the boy, Severus lifted one limp arm to examine the cuffs which he suspected cut off Potter's magic. Although the Dark Lord was an extremely powerful, inventive wizard who knew rare magic, Severus could not recall anything or anyone ever stripping a wizard of his or her magical ability. It seemed impossible; after all, even unconscious patients still reacted magically.

The snakes and dragons etched on the surface provided no clue how the manacles accomplished their task. No magical traces within the silver revealed themselves, and the runes spelled nonsense. After trying various techniques and finding nothing, Severus set up the viewing spell above the bed, and returned upstairs to fetch the examination table used while healing the boy, and two chairs. It would be easiest to feed Potter if he didn't interact with him much, so he spelled the table to accept food sent from the warming boxes upstairs.

His stomach growled at the thought of food; he hadn't eaten anything all morning. Checking Potter one last time, he exited the cell and headed for the kitchen, where he found enough ingredients to prepare a basic meal consisting of beans on toast. He detested cooking and avoided it at all costs as he had more important things to do with his time. A return trip to the kitchen would be a waste of time, so he searched the room for some simple and convenient lunch items.

Not much. Fresh vegetables and fruit filled the fridge crispers, but he didn't feel like putting effort into fixing a meal.

Someone -- maybe one of the Healers? -- had left behind a carton of pumpkin juice.

Hunting through the cupboards, he found a tin of spam as well as a few tins of chicken noodle soup. How did anyone expect Potter and him to survive on this? Tomorrow he'd send out a shopping list.

Putting the spam on bread and soup in bowls, he heated them with a wave of his wand and placed them on the warmers. Lunch fixed, he left for the lab.

A few hours later, he glanced in the mirror. Potter was no longer sleeping, but stood, staring at the sink.

Excellent, the boy had woken. Time to dig through the memories.

Casting a stasis spell over the fire, he tore off his brewing cloak and tossed it to the side as he marched back to the house. The Dark Lord had ordered an outdoor walkway to be built between the two buildings, and every time Severus opened the door, blasts of snowy air hit him, providing a welcome distraction. He marched through the house and down to the cellar, only to find Potter standing near the bars, yelling gibberish.

Wonderful. "Calm down, Potter," he ordered. "You will only give yourself more injuries at this rate."

"Snape!" Potter did an odd half-twist, his head jerking with far more movement than necessary. Severus wasn't sure if the clumsy movements were due to effects of various sedatives or the body rejecting itself. Severus expected extensive bruising on Potter's body as it healed, but he was not prepared for the visual shock of the vivid bruises. The size of bludgers in some spots, they covered Potter's body completely. The colours, from a deep red to a sea green, blended one into the other, making Potter look like a bizarre walking abstract tapestry. The large gash on his arm, previously covered with skin, now gaped open, splattering blood in every direction at Potter's erratic movements. The dried and fresh blood covering the skinny form obscured the newly emerging injuries, making it impossible for Severus to ascertain their severity.

"You are a mess," said Severus.

The statement ignited something in the boy's primitive brain. He glanced down at himself and let out a strange, choked howl, as if his damaged body alarmed him. Stumbling over his feet, he lurched to the bed and clumsily tore the sheet from the mattress, holding it up against his body. "Why am I naked, you pervert?!"

Childish idiot. "I am not attracted to underdeveloped little boys. I made the mistake of assuming you were competent enough as a wizard to spell pockets into your clothing in order to hide artefacts. I destroyed the rags as a precaution. Now, you will come with me and take a bath. Scourgify can only clean so much, and I've no desire for you to smear blood and dirt about my rooms. Do not try to resist -- you are in no position to fight my magic as you are."

He expected stubborn disobedience. After all, the smarmy little prick got off on finding ways to drive him mad. Instead, Potter clutched his sheet tighter around his body and complied with an obedience and servitude never shown in Potions class. Opening the bars for him to exit, Severus couldn't help but gape at how quietly and readily the boy obeyed. Whatever the Dark Lord had done to induce such compliance, he must learn it himself.

Temporarily frozen with the shock caused by Potter's obedience, he recovered enough to say, "First door on your right." After casting a Scourgify at the blood on the floor of the cell, he followed Potter, half expecting the brat to turn and make a run for it, but Potter walked unsteadily into the bathroom and halted in the centre of the navy blue bathmat, staring at the tub.

Closing the door behind them, Severus spelled the taps open. When Potter made no move, he snapped, "Stop gawking and get in."

Without any modesty, Potter dropped the sheet and climbed into the tub, his legs and arms still jerking as if manipulated by an invisible puppeteer. Once he had settled himself without falling over, he asked with child-like sincerity, "Are you going to bathe, too?"

Oh fuck. The boy was damaged. Was this evidence of serious long-term brain damage, or a temporary confusion brought on by heavy drugging? If it was serious, how could he fix what he knew so little about? "Of course not, I'm only here to make sure you don't kill yourself."

Potter gazed up at Severus, eyes blinking slowly. "Why would I do that?"

Perhaps it was only an effect of the potions. Perhaps the Dark Lord had tampered with him while searching through his memories? Perhaps parts were healing improperly?

"Oh, d'you mean this?" Potter said, jabbing at the cut on his arm. "It doesn't hurt at all. Nothing hurts."

"I plied you with a very ample dose of painkillers. Quite frankly, I'm amazed you're walking and talking right now, but you've always been annoyingly stubborn and unable to know when you should just sit down and shut up."

His expression as mulish as ever, Potter said, "I am sitting now."

I have to stay in this prison with that? Silkily, Severus said, "Then perhaps you should work on the second part."

His hand flailing, Potter made an attempt at scrubbing his chest with the flannel. "Snape, Snape, Snape," he said in a singsong voice. "I remember the name, but not much else..."

Shit. He hadn't meant to cut that much, and he doubted the Dark Lord had either. Maybe skull shards remained in Potter's brain. Kneeling by the tub, he reached over and prodded Potter's head where the bone had been fractured. "Maybe you hit your head harder than we thought," he said.

"Ow!" Potter frowned and jerked away. "That hurt."

Hurrying to the cabinet, Severus spelled it open. The Healers had stocked it with dozens of neatly labelled vials and jars. Lifting up the vial labelled as a memory-enhancing potion, he cast a revelation spell and sniffed. It was the memory-enhancing potion. Severus placed it on the edge of the tub, along with the Legilimency aid, a general healing potion, a healing potion designed for the brain, and two analgesics: one milder and the other mixed with a sedative.

Potter reached for them and Severus batted his hand away, giving him the mild analgesic first. "Drink, and don't spill a drop."

When Potter had downed it, Severus gave him the Legilimency aid. "Now drink this."

Potter twisted his head away, avoiding the vial. Stubborn boy. Severus reached over and clamped Potter's nose shut, pouring the liquid down his throat. The boy was so witless, he didn't even try to close his mouth. When Severus finished pouring the liquid in, he pressed Potter's mouth closed until he was certain the boy had swallowed the entire potion. When he uncorked the memory-enhancing vial, Potter submissively brought it to his lips.

Severus stood and stepped back from the tub. "Your memories should return shortly after you finish that potion. If you fail to remember who I am after that, I will assume the head injury is permanent."

"That's bad, right?" asked Potter between gulps.

The stupid question didn't deserve the effort of an answer. Severus said nothing, merely watching Potter to see how the potions affected him.

Potter set the vial down on the rim of the bathtub with far more grace than before. "I don't think it wo-" His hands flew to his head, a scream tearing from his throat as he curled in on himself.

Instinctively, Severus flew to his side. Shit. "Petrificus Totalus! Stupefy!" He stared at the rigid form. It was only a temporary fix, preventing any damage from spreading. Floating Potter carefully out of the room and back to the cell, Severus placed him on the bed, cut open his stomach, and poured a hypnotic sedative inside. Darting off to the lab, he set up a small cauldron as he waited for the Dark Lord to arrive.

Chimaeridae livers should help increase the uptake of the healing potion in the brain. The memory-enhancing potion contained a base of Spirulina, a strong ingredient. Perhaps too strong. Was it the base or the chief ingredient?

Grabbing his favourite book on Healing off the shelf, he flipped to the section on brain and memories. The injury probably lay in the hippocampus, an area that also controlled coordination. But would damage to the hippocampus cause retrograde as well as anterograde amnesia? The book was useless. He flung it aside and grabbed a Muggle health book, flipping to the section on cobalamin, which was probably what needed to be adjusted in the potion.

Cobalamin deficiency can cause Pernicious anaemia, which has been identified as a risk factor for osteoporosis-

Of course! Potter's skull and a few of his bones needed to regrow so they'd given him high levels of cobalamin. Too much cobalamin in Potter’s system would cause the memory-enhancing potion to overreact. Doxy livers should provide a much safer alternative.

He slowly added the Quercus roots to the cauldron and stirred three times counter-clockwise. This new potion should sufficiently increase the absorption rate. The Dark Lord arrived as he set the potion to a slow boil.

"My Lord." Wishing to escape the Cruciatus, Severus bent low to the floor in a display of extreme humbleness. "Please forgive me. I accidentally hurt the boy when I attempted to repair his memories. I'm building a painkiller better suited to the process."

"You may rise," said the Dark Lord. "You can fix his memories?"

Gratefully returning to an upright position, Severus answered, "Unless you wish me to stop, I believe I should try and retrieve the information contained within them. They may prove beneficial to your Lordship."

For a moment the Dark Lord said nothing. Was the he thinking or had Severus crossed a boundary? Finally, the Dark Lord said, "Repair his mind as best you can. What went wrong with this recent attempt?"

The Dark Lord hated feeling stupid. Although he was intelligent enough to learn Healing, he considered certain subjects beneath him and unworthy of his time. He was especially dismissive of Severus's personal blend of brewing which incorporated Muggle knowledge and medicine with wizarding magic and potions. Severus carefully dumbed down his language. Analgesics were painkillers. All types of hypnotics were sedatives. "I believe the potion I gave him to stimulate his memory recovery interacted poorly with a bone-building potion the Healers gave him." Actually, the true cause was more likely the memories Severus had hidden away trying to reconnect themselves. The memory-enhancing potion he'd fed Potter had been overly aggressive. "The potions he was given today will be out of his system in another three days and I will be able to control every single reaction he has. Until then, I will act with utmost caution and test Potter for certain compounds before I give him anything new."

"See that you do," said the Dark Lord. "If this happens again, I will not be as forgiving."

"I understand, my Lord." Severus bowed to the swirl of the Dark Lord's robes as he left.

When the potion was finished, he returned to Potter, who was still frozen in place, curled in a ball on the bed.

"Finite Incantatem!"

Potter uncurled, the wound above his stomach weeping blood. Severus poured in his new potion and then applied a healing salve.

Potter's eyelashes fluttered and he gave a soft sigh. Severus sat down on the edge of the bed, turned towards the sink, and closed his eyes. Looking back at Potter, he gently placed a hand upon the warm chest and cast a monitoring spell. Capturing Potter's chin, he cast, "
Legilimens" and pressed inside the boy's cloudy eyes.

He saw the Dark Lord's skilled work. A string of powerful memory spells trailed through Potter's mind like a well-built cobweb. However, Severus had studied enough of memory charms to know where to look. Rather than removing and replacing the spells, Severus examined the memories nearby: The Dark Lord. A vaguely familiar handsome young man stood in an underground chamber. The hallway in the Ministry of Magic.

The Dark Lord had hidden memories of himself. Probably the ones Severus had seen earlier. Skilfully, Severus guided Potter with leading questions in search of the removed memories, but his search revealed no trace of the Dark Lord's earlier presence. Legilimency did not guarantee the revelation of all memories, but Potter had never learned the art of subterfuge, and Severus was quite adept at finding what he needed to know. Once he finished examining the memories the Dark Lord had removed, he went in search of the rest of the suppressed memories.

The boy's mind was tangled, but it didn't take long to figure out why. Severus had somehow suppressed nearly every memory of himself. How was that possible? He'd merely attempted to remove Potter's memory of the torture and one previous interaction. He'd been careless. He didn't know as much about memories as he thought he did, and it showed.

But should he give Potter back those memories? Without them he was remarkably well-behaved, and he'd no longer think of Severus as a man worthy of death, making him easier to control.

His hands moving on instinct, Severus released Potter's chest and chin and fetched the revival potion. Better to start out slow. He shook a few drops onto Potter's lips and waited.

The vivid eyes stopped staring at some distant point and focused on Severus instead.
"Where am I?"

Potter was still under heavy sedation and an attempt to lift his hand resulted in an odd flopping of the limb.

"You've been captured. Your friends escaped." He couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at Potter's eyes and not seen hate glaring back at him. He'd never once stared at Potter's eyes the way he wanted to, and now he feasted on them, admiring their shape and colour. The tiny bit of gold intruded on the green, true, but they were still gorgeous, the gold barely visible in the low lights of the cell. Severus would find a way to make the lights brighter. After he'd fixed the eyes, he'd want to stare at them for hours. It was all that he had left of her.

"Escaped?" Potter's brow furrowed and both arms briefly flailed with an aborted attempt at movement. Severus couldn't resist smoothing them down. There was a delightfully forbidden feel to it. He was seeing something he shouldn't see, viewing and touching Potter in all his defenceless nakedness, knowing how furious Potter would be if he were himself. "You were hurt. You don't remember me, do you?"

For the first time in his life, it was amusing rather than aggravating to see Potter struggle for an answer. Potter stared blankly for a moment, then answered, "You're . . . my . . . "

Professor, planted Severus.

"...teacher?"

Close enough. "You were captured by the Dark Lord."

"Voldemort!" Potter's eyes grew nearly impossibly wide and, in a surprising display of coordination and athleticism, he shot up in the bed and attempted to climb off the side. Catching him, Severus ignored the struggling limbs and carefully pushed him back down. "You need to rest."

Potter shook his head, his hands flailing as he tried to push Severus away. "I have to fight."

Gryffindors were well-trained. Severus was tempted to leave Potter in his state of ignorance, but what if he'd accidentally suppressed other memories? Besides, Severus needed the hate. It didn't feel right without it.

He removed the hypnotic sedative from his robes and placed a drop on Potter's lips. The boy stilled, his eyes growing glassy. One more drop would put him to sleep, but Severus needed him awake for this. He dove back in and, carefully this time, returned and clipped away certain memories. Potter didn't need to know Kreacher, or the earlier memory, or even this memory, but he needed to remember Severus Snape. An hour's worth of work returned Potter to a relative state of normalcy, and with the memory of the most recent intrusion removed, Severus turned away from Potter and closed his eyes again. When he opened them, he reached into his robes and pulled out a handful of shrunken potions. He kept his potions in differently sized and shaped bottles to make it easier to identify them, but he thumbed through them now, pretending to examine and debate over each one before finally selecting a healing potion with a hypnotic agent mixed in.

After a space of time appropriate to explain any movements Potter had made since the last time Severus closed his eyes, he turned back to Potter and entered his mind. Pretending to examine the memories, he sifted through the boy's mind, searching for any clues to Potter's memory loss. Once he'd been in Potter's mind for a sufficient amount of time to avoid the Dark Lord's suspicions, he fed Potter a few drops of the potion and floated him back to the bathroom, placing him on the bathmat.

He'd blame the head injury for the missing memories. The less Potter suspected Severus had mucked about in his head, the less belligerent he would be.

After a bit, Potter stirred, blinking as he sat up.

Severus grabbed the stronger analgesic off the edge of the tub and moved to hand it to Potter. "I trust your memories have returned."

Potter's hand flew out with surprising quickness and smacked the vial out of Severus's hand, shattering it against the tub. "I'm not taking anything you give me, you bastard!" He was on his feet, clumsily flying at Severus.

Severus braced himself and caught the struggling form. He held Potter at arm's length as the boy raged and screamed, "YOU KILLED DUMBLEDORE!"

Ignoring the childish tantrum for the moment, Severus sent a monitoring spell into the writhing body.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Yes, the returned memories improved him, although his kicks flew wildly and his other body movements remained jerky. Perhaps a full recovery was not possible. But if he figured out what was causing the shakiness....

"DUMBLEDORE TRUSTED YOU! HE'S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! SIRIUS IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! IT'S ALL YOUR-"

Enough. "Silencio!" Ungrateful little prick... He couldn't remain in this prison with the brat; he already wanted to wring his neck. Silent hate continued to spill from Potter's lips and Severus cast, "Petrificus Totalus!," closing his hand around the skinny neck. He squeezed just enough to hurt a little and cause fear. At Hogwarts he’d had to follow Albus's rules, but here, punishment came swift and decisive. Potter would learn his place and the consequences of stepping out of line.

Openly displaying his hatred, Severus hissed, "You are very lucky that the Dark Lord has forbidden you from being harmed without his express permission. If I were allowed right now, I would teach you a lesson in pain you would never forget. You would do well to remember that I have a very good memory, and it is highly likely that he will want you tortured for information soon." There was no need to torture him for information, they'd already taken what they wanted, but Potter didn't need to know that. "If you wish a repeat of last time and to be beaten so badly that you won't wake for three days, I can grant you that wish. I trust you have enough brains in that empty head of yours to remember and understand that I do not make idle threats. Mobilicorpus." He released Potter's neck and floated him back to his cage, placing him facedown so that he could apply some healing salve to the cuts on his back. The analgesics were enough that Potter shouldn't feel any pain, but movement would only aggravate the injuries.

Touching Potter as little as possible, Severus applied the healing salve, summoned food, and left. He had more important things to do than babysit Potter. While he worked he'd keep track of the boy with the viewing spell. Besides, with the hypnotic, the high level of sedatives coursing through his veins, and his body still needing recovery, the boy would fall asleep within an hour.

Severus arrived at his potions lab and opened the door. Taking one step in, he came to an abrupt halt, for waiting in the centre of the room stood Narcissa Malfoy.

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