Daunted Death

“Potter... Potter...”

Harry stirred. It took a minute for him to realize who said his name. He dropped his legs from the chair and leaned over to the bed.

“Do you need a numbing potion?” he asked softly.

“Go-to... class.”

“Sorry, Professor, I’m not going anywhere until you’re better.”

Severus closed his eyes. Why did the boy have to be so difficult? He awoke when that annoying elf came, and was angry when he saw Potter sitting in that chair. Angry? No, that wasn’t the right word. Disgusted? Flustered? He had no clue. He did know, however, that it would be extremely difficult to get him to leave, and wasn’t sure he had the strength to argue with such a thick child.

How even more humiliating to have Potter feeling so sorry for him he felt he had to be some kind of servant to him. No, Severus would not allow it.

He pulled the oddly tightly tucked blanket from around himself with some difficulty, but even that slight movement pulsed as though a thousand white-hot needles were shoved ruthlessly into him.

It must have showed because Potter jumped up and grabbed his teacher’s arms to keep him still.

“The skin is starting to grow back, but if you move it’ll all split again,” Potter cautioned.

Snape would have sneered had he not been in so much pain. Of course he knew that! Did the boy think him idiotic?

“Please just rest. Don’t hurt yourself anymore.”

“Why are you here?”

“To help. People don’t deserve this.”

“Potter, you are soft--”

“--but not trying to die.”

Snape closed his eyes and put his face in his hands in frustration.

“Are you trying to get killed?” Harry pushed.

“Of course not,” snapped Snape.

“Then why don’t you stay here? Yes, I know you’re a spy, but whatever! Nothing you could learn is worth all of this or your life!”

“What I decide to do is none of your business. Now leave and do not come back!”

“You nearly gave Dobby a heart attack.” (Snape groaned.) “He was terrified.”

“Then I shall remember to give my apologizes to the elf,” Snape said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why would you get such a pathetic creature to tail me?”

“I couldn’t do it.”

“If I ever see that creature again you will have detention until you graduate.... Who is teaching my class?”

“I have no idea. Are you sure you don’t need a potion?”

“Stop this incessant berating! If you are not going to leave then be silent!”

They sat in awkward quietness for a time. Harry had no clue what to say, and he knew Snape never would.

“Sooo, you like Shakespear?”

“What I like is not your concern,” replied Snape, not opening his eyes.

“Right.... Should I get Dumbledore? Will you be able to walk?”

“No, leave the man out of this for now.... You did not see?”

“No, I didn’t even lay down. Dobby found you. Don’t you remember?... There was blood everywhere, and you weren’t entirely conscious. I thought at first you were trying to get away, but you just didn’t want the weight on painful spots. I assume it wasn’t just--surface injuries.”

Harry’s voice was so soft and timid Snape looked at him carefully as the boy watched the floor.

“Yes, I will walk.” (Potter looked slightly more hopeful.) “It is simply hard to fight without reopening old wounds.”

Harry rubbed a hand over his face and asked, “Can I get you a book or food?”

“A potion would be nice.”

~

For a good part of the rest of the day until dinner, it was quiet. Harry thought Snape fell asleep (probably against his will), and he himself dozed in and out. Dobby came again though this time he apperated outside the door before coming in. It took Harry a while, but eventually he agreed to go up to the tower and actually sleep.

~

Severus awoke at midnight again, surprised he slept so long. Gingerly he tested his legs. For a the most part they were sore, but the needles were no longer there. When he unwrapped the wounds he grimaced at the red raw look of them. Taking a deep breath he carefully got out of bed and stood. Only then did he notice the folded piece of paper on his bedside table.

Professor--Dobby will hear you if you need him for anything at all. Dumbledore left the school, so he won’t bother you for information. I’m going to classes, but I’ll sneak down a couple times. (Don’t worry, no one will know.)

Harry

There were several lines erased under the signature that Severus couldn’t make out. It was good to know Albus was out, but the rest was useless rubbish.

He dropped the paper on the bed, not wanting to make his way to the fire or leave ash in his bedroom. Halfway to the bathroom Severus stopped. He turned slightly towards the entrance door but halted short of it, reaching for a book with thick leather binding so faded the title was illegible. Slowly he opened the cover and used the tips of his fingers to smoothly pull out the picture.

God, he missed her! He hadn’t looked at this in two days, not since he left to go get skinned. That was nothing compared to what he’d go through for her, or her memory. He should have kept his mouth shut, should not have followed Albus. Back then he was less skilled at occlumency, but he could have died. It would have been easy to kill himself! He’d tried a few times before. Why didn’t he die? Then none of this would have happened. She would be alive, safe, and happy. That’s all he wanted.

He deserved everything the Death Eaters did to him, and Potter would definitely agree if he knew. Still, it was nice to know someone at least didn’t wish him a miserable existence and death, even if it was, to his extreme annoyance, Potter. Severus hated to think it, but he knew unrealized emotions could be deadly.

~

Harry was so hesitant to go to bed that night, but all the lack of sleep from the previous night jumped him as soon as he laid down.

~

“Where is she?” Harry asked, his voice even.

Avery trembled and shrunk back as he replied, “In the basement. We put the charms we know on it to keep her in. The only thing left is for you to shield her from all means of finding her.”

“Good,” Harry said, not meaning it, “Is she fighting still? How is her health?”

“Not good, but she can be sustained the way she is, though she struggles vigorously,” Avery answered, still trying to inch away.

“She was there for quite a while without my... assistance. Thirteen years, I believe. I am surprised she is still alive.”

“That is--is good, My Lord?”

“Oh, yes, what better way to control Severus.”

~

It had been a couple of days since then. Dumbledore had hounded Snape, and Harry badgered Snape to lie low. Snape tried everything to keep Harry from checking on him or sending that blasted elf, but nothing worked! The stupid boy was as stubborn as his mother.

Harry debated saying anything to Snape about the dream. He knew he should. After a while of thinking, Harry resolved to tell him so he would be prepared, but not until the next morning. Snape needed the extra days of calmness to heal before Harry ruined his world with the knowledge of a girl or woman Snape knew in the hands of Voldemort.

~

Harry walked down rickety steps with dust rising all around his feet. It was almost pitch black, but the light on the end of his wand served well enough. When he reached the door at the bottom, it took him a while to disable the protective and concealment spells. A high cracking sound engorged the air as it swung open to reveal a small, dark stone room that resembled more of a dungeon than a basement. The air was think, choking, and stale. Upon entering, the chill air set over him, desperately clinging to the heat of his body.

When the light fell into the gloom he could see, with some satisfaction, the woman with chains around her wrists connected to links halfway up the wall. She was crouched in the furthest corner from him with her hair hanging down over her face and legs. It was dirty and almost colorless. Her face was completely hidden in her knees, arms wrapped up around her shins. The deathly pale skin was badly bruised and slashed. Blood coated her hands from the deep cuts of the chain cuffs. She was down to what was once a shirt and jeans so fluid coated and stretched out it would have been better to take them off and be naked on the nasty cold floor. Her body trembled, though Harry knew it was from weakness, not fear.

She lifted her head just enough for him to see half her face crusted with dried blood.

“I hear you are still fighting and resisting. What will it take for you to finally consent?” Harry asked in fake resignation.

No answer came.

“Come now, your situation could be worse,” Harry assured her.

Still she did not reply. Harry’s blood began to boil.

“Answer me or it will be worse!”

“You could make it no worse.”

Her voice was ruff, hoarse, cracked, but, above all, disdained.

“I could torture your son.”

She laughed and said, “You can’t touch him.”

“I could touch your lover.”

“I don’t have a lover. How many times have I told that?”

“Yes, you do, and you will help me manipulate him.”

“Who is it you think I was with?”

“Dear, I know you were with him. He begged me for your life, but now he thinks you’re dead. Just imagine, if you will, what Severus would do to bring you back.”

Her head shot up in horror. Harry laughed horribly, but at the same time his heart twisted....