Into The Light

Author\'s Notes: Back from holiday - it was hot, is the best way to describe it - like mid 50\'s for most days - for reference, that\'s what comes out of a hair dryer nozzle on the highest setting. I\'ve never been so greatful for air-con in my life.

Chapter ten is halfway written, and will probably be a little late in going up - like a fortnight from now, mainly because I have to turn 21 and move back to uni all in the next two weeks, and will be snowed under with that. To make up for it, chapter nine is slightly longer, enjoy!

This story will probably keep popping up to the top of the list for the nesxt few days - I\'m going to make some minor edits (spelling corrections etc) to chaps 1-5. If this annoys you, sorry.

And finally - three cheers for Brilliant Beta!Jocelyn.

Severus ended up having to bathe her himself as standing under the stream of water from the shower proved too much for her muscle-starved legs to handle. He’d watched as she, trembling, propped first one hand against the wall to support herself, then both, and then caught her when she finally fell to the white-tiled floor. Sternly telling his cock that it was taking an inappropriate amount of interest in the proceedings, he’d scooped her into his arms and gently deposited her into the tub, before running a lukewarm tap and taking up the sponge.

Mentally, he was still cursing her actions earlier – he was sure they were the reason for his reactions, her skinny, angular physique would hardly have attracted his notice in normal circumstances; he preferred his women buxom, not built like ironing boards.

He was roughly towelling her dry and ruefully contemplating his soaked shirtsleeves when a knock at the door sent him into a panic.

“Shit!” He leapt to his feet and paced frantically across his carpet for a second, almost as if looking for a place to hide her. He had no idea how to explain to Poppy that she’d missed one meal, was on the verge of missing a second and had already experienced a prohibited ‘messy, emotional scene’, all in the first twelve hours.

He hurriedly draped Hermione in his dressing gown, sat her at the table, and summoned a house-elf with her breakfast.

“Eat,” he commanded in a hushed voice, “and then go back to bed, take a nap.” Her eyes looked glazed even as she nodded her agreement and lifted her spoon – her stamina, which he hoped would soon improve, still left an awful lot to be desired.

He took a deep breath, and then turned to open the door, and face his punishment.

A shame-faced Potter stood outside it.

Severus let out a great huff of relief. Potter looked confused.

“I thought you were Madame Pomfrey,” he offered by way of explanation.

They stood awkwardly, each looking at their own shoes, Potter obviously wondering if he was forgiven yet, Severus battling with his conscience on whether to inform Potter he’d been at least partially correct on the subject of Hermione’s behaviour.

“So – is she ok?” Potter finally asked, trying to peer over Severus’s shoulder to see.

Severus shut the door hastily before Potter saw his décor.

“She is fine, although exhausted.”

“Oh!”

They stood in silence once more.

“Can I see her?”

“No. She is having some food then going back to bed.”

“Well, shall we get with these then?” Potter gestured to the carrier bags he was holding, which seemed mostly to contain shrunken books and photos.

Severus nodded. “Unload them in her room as it is not currently in use. I have some ingredients that must go into cold storage, but I shall rejoin you afterwards.”

Potter nodded his understanding, and turned to descend the stairs, Severus following him down.


He had just finished shoving the newt brains onto the back shelf when he heard a sound from behind him that had come to feature in his nightmares.

“Hem hem.”

He jumped, nearly cracking his skull on the bottom of the container, then slowly withdrew into the room and to his feet, before turning to face her.

Dolores Umbridge was standing in his classroom (once again, he thought, regret bitter in his mouth) and her expression was that of a cat that had gotten to the cream.

Slightly behind her stood a weedy, balding little man with thin, tight lips, large ears and thick glasses, wearing the green robes of a mediwizard.

“Severus, my dear!” cried Umbridge in what she obviously thought was a delighted tone.

“Professor Snape,” he corrected coldly.

She looked flustered. “Yes, Professor Snape, it’s so good to see you again!”

“Is it?” he replied, cocking his head to one side as if puzzled, and thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to be rude. “I can’t say the same, and if I’m honest, I can’t say I wish it were the same either.”

“Yes, terrible business with poor Miss Granger, but that’s why we’re here!” She beamed at him, he was sure, in satisfaction from misunderstanding him so well.

Severus ground his teeth in annoyance. “And you are ...?” he questioned the man.

“Healer Price,” said the man, giving an abbreviated bow, and managing to look down his nose at Severus at the same time.

“Are you? And why are you here?”

Price looked at him like he’d just asked an incredibly stupid question. “Why, to assess if she’s fit for questioning, of course.”

Severus sneered.

“I see. Then you may wish to explain to the Headmaster why the ministry is interfering in his staff choices once again. I, personally, see no reason why you should suddenly doubt Madame Pomfrey’s qualifications,” he paused, enjoying their discomfited looks, “after all she was entirely sufficient to patch you up three years ago, MsUmbridge.” He deliberately emphasised the ‘Ms’, and was pleased to see her toad-like eyes harden as she registered the unmistakable, if subtle, insult. “So why you need a second opinion now is something of a mystery.”

There was a pause during which Severus could actually see them gathering their thoughts to reply.

“Well, of course not,” blustered the man, finally. “We simply wanted a Ministry Healer’s opinion for the report.”

“Oh really?” said Severus, effecting a tone of great surprise. “Ah, that’s hardly what you said the first time.”

“Yes, well-” started Price, but Severus cut him off.

“As it is only the report that will benefit from Healer Price’s opinion, it will therefore be Madame Pomfrey’s say-so as to whether Miss Granger is fit enough to see you.”

Umbridge simpered while Price looked offended.

“Of course,” trilled Umbridge, as if she were speaking to a particularly dense toddler, “we’ll drop in on Poppy-”

“Madame Pomfrey.”

“-Madame Pomfrey immediately. Now, tell me Professor, do you think she is well enough for a pensieve account?”

Severus, strangling the urge to crack her over the head with the pensieve she had suddenly produced from the depths of her cloak, was saved from having to stretch his already put upon self-control by the appearance of Potter at the classroom door.

“Professor-” he started when he caught sight of the room’s other occupants, and glared at them.

“Why, Harry Potter! So good to see you again!” cried Umbridge. She did not - quite sensibly, thought Severus – offer him her hand, probably because Potter looked more likely to use a severing charm upon it rather than he was to shake it.

Potter stared at Severus.

“What is she doing here?” he said, sounding disgusted.

“Ms Umbridge,” said Severus, enjoying watching the woman flush again, “has been assigned to Ms Granger’s case.”

“Send her back.” said Potter sharply.

“Oh, my dear Harry,” simpered Umbridge, “surely you agree that my history with Hermione makes me the ideal candidate for the job.”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to use first names,” hissed Potter quietly, sounding dangerous. From the way it made the two intruders freeze, Severus couldn’t help approving of Potter’s tone, at least inwardly. “Neither mine, nor Hermione’s.”

Umbridge tittered. “But Mr. Potter-”

“I’m going to the Ministry to complain,” said Potter to Severus, ignoring the other two utterly. “I’ve put her things in her room.” He stormed back out of the door.

Severus smugly watched them stare after him, Umbridge looking stunned, Price looking mortally offended.

“I believe you remember the way to the hospital wing,” said Severus, the dismissal unmistakable in his voice.

“Well, actually, my memory is a little hazy,” said Umbridge, obviously a possessor of neither a clue nor a brain cell, sidling up to him.

“Then I would suggest you either improve it or find your way there by fluke,” he said coldly.

“Yes, well, be seeing you then!” she called, finally getting the message and scuttling out of the door, dragging the unfortunate Healer Price behind her.

Severus couldn’t help smirking at the spectacle.


He returned to his room, after a short detour to Hermione’s which was now little more than a holding room for hundreds of indefinable knick-knacks and photos, to find his charge sitting sleepily on the edge of his bed and being prodded critically by Pomfrey.

“Just a minute Severus,” she called to him, before he even had a chance to open his mouth, “I need a word after I’m done here.”

Hermione turned her head to see him, and threw him a slight smile, which he acknowledged with a nod.

He nodded, and stood awkwardly to one side, watching as she cast muttered charms over Hermione, sending up coloured sparks into the air, at which Poppy seemed to nod, looking satisfied. At one point, whatever she’d done magnified Hermione’s heartbeat and the dub-dub seemed to fill the room, giving him peculiar comfort.

Finally she was done, and waved the girl back to her bed.

“Is this normal?” he couldn’t help asking, when she came over. “Should she really be sleeping this much?”

She gave him a curious look. “Eat and sleep is about all she’ll do for the next week, or thereabouts. You should start her walking around the room, or maybe up and down a few stairs if she has the energy, but it’s too early to start pushing.”

“So, far too early for her to even think about giving testimony?”

She looked shocked. “Of course not! She can barely stay awake for a conversation, let alone an interrogation! Whatever are you thinking?”

He smirked in satisfaction. “Oh, it is not me you’ll have to explain it to – Umbridge is here, and in search of you, or was, when I last saw her. And she brought a Ministry Mediwizard – a Healer Price?”

Her eyes narrowed. “That little-!” She let out her breath. \"Yes, I know him, he’s infamous for saying whatever the Minister wants him to, no matter what the actual truth of the matter might be. Well, if he thinks he can ride roughshod over my professional opinion and Miss Granger’s health, he has another thing coming!”

She started stalking off towards the door, as if preparing to hurry off and do battle for the sake of her patient, when she seemed to remember herself and turned back towards him.

“Severus, two more points.”

“Yes?” She seemed irate enough to discourage him from enquiring why Umbridge and Price were here now, as opposed to the week’s time he’d been told.

“Due to her, ah, situation with regards to her womb, it’s caused her to start the menopause.”

Severus had to blink for a second before he completely understood her – it had been something he hadn’t even thought of.

“We can repair and regenerate whatever’s been damaged, but it’s a stressful operation, and she’s not ready for it yet, so it would be appreciated if you could provide us with a potion that will stabilise her hormone levels for now. The Headmaster recommended a book in the library that should have what you need,” she fished in her pocket before drawing out a crumpled scrap of parchment. She inspected it for a second, then handed it to him, and he barely glanced at the curly cursive on it before pocketing it.

“Fine,” he said, feeling mildly insulted that the Headmaster had actually recommended him a reading, rather than trusting Severus’s memory. It wasn’t as if he was unfamiliar with the ‘Menopause Pause Potion’ – he made huge batches of it every month for every female staff member except Trelawney.

“Secondly,” carried on Poppy, not giving him time to nurse the injured feeling into an emotional bruise, “you’ll want to stay away from the front of the castle, and any part of the grounds which can be seen from the gates. The press have arrived, and they aren’t letting the fact that they aren’t allowed on the grounds get in the way of them getting a photo or a story. The blowout they’d create if they knew she was staying in your room …” She tutted, then glanced around the room disapprovingly. “Why is she staying in here, by the way?”

He felt even more slighted – both Potter and Pomfrey casting doubts on his integrity with the same morning, and Albus and his wretched book recommendation. Once she was gone from his room, he was going to summon a house-elf and hex it, just to take out his bad temper. “She doesn’t have nightmares if she has company, and she is not sleeping in my bed.”

“I should think not! But, don’t you have the potion?”

He frowned, and snapped “I thought it was you who told me her system couldn’t take anymore strain? Because by all means I will feed her the damn potion and get her out of my room, even if she does get addicted! Just give me the word!”

“Now there’s no need for that,” she was heading for the door, suddenly exuding the same serenity that she always did in the face of his annoyance, which, of course, always made him feel worse. “I’ll be back later, she seems fine for now.” She disappeared through the doorway, and shut it behind her.

Grinding his teeth, he rang the bell that summoned a house-elf, and instructed it that he was to be warned every time Umbridge came near the Slytherin tower. He also mentioned that he wanted soundproof curtains put up around his bathing and toilet area.

“And one last thing,” he said, courteously escorting it to the door and opening it for the creature. “Stand there a second.”

Obedient, it stood with its back to the room, looking out onto the staircase. With a great feeling of satisfaction, he gave it a hefty kick that sent it flying down the stone spiral of steps. “And you’re allowed to heal yourself afterwards!” he called after it, and slammed the door. He felt much better.

Hermione was watching him over the corner of her duvet, a slight frown on her forehead. He watched her back, with bated breath. \'Yes!’ he found himself thinking, ‘Come on, yell at me, read me some horribly sentimental tripe about dignity and respect for all creatures, prove you’re all better, you don’t need me, and you can get out of my room, out of my life and best yet, you can stop ruining what’s left of my reputation! Come on, I know you can do it!’

To his great disappointment, she merely disappeared back under her covers, and he could hear her breathing slow to that of a sleeping female.

He turned to go and look at the book the Headmaster recommended, just to be safe, and opened the door to look into the confused eyes of Potter.

“Did you,” said the brat, in incredulous tones, “just kick a house-elf down the stairs and onto my head?”

“None of your business,” snarled Severus, his bad mood returning like a lightening bolt. “When do they leave?”

“They don’t,” bit out Potter, sounding as angry as Severus felt.

“What?!”

He huffed. “You want all the angles, or the short version?”

Severus hauled him down the stairs, closing the door behind him so as not to disturb Hermione. “The angles, in here.” They turned into Hermione’s room, and stood amongst the piles of assorted memories.

Potter took a breath. “At first I go in there, and they’re still angry that I decided not to sign on as an Auror, seeing it as a slight on the Ministry.”

“A decision which still causes me to doubt the intelligence Minerva assures me you have, might I add.”

“I’ve been fighting dark wizards for most of my childhood, why would I want to do it for the rest of my life too?”

“Yes Potter, I’ve heard the plan,” Severus put on a high pitched, whiney tone of voice. “‘I’m going to play Quidditch for England, and then teach at Hogwarts,’ your career plans truly will astound the general populace.”

“You’re just pissed because it means you’ll never get the Dark Arts post – do you want to hear this or not?”

Severus physically bit his tongue, before grinding out “go on.”

“So they say that everyone else is ‘otherwise assigned’ at the moment, but if I could find time to assure the press that I have full confidence in the Ministry, it might free up some people who are currently dealing with public relations, and they could switch with Umbridge.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Potter suddenly looked so angry that his eyes seemed to blaze, and his cheeks blanched. “They’ve moved Hagrid to Azkaban.”

“Excuse me?” Severus was astounded – surely this was too far for even the Ministry.

“Yeah.” Potter turned away, but Severus could still see him scrub angry, frustrated tears out of his eyes. “He’s still comatose, so he doesn’t know it, thank fuck, but they put him in there. So I told them I couldn’t express confidence in an organisation that puts innocent men in that place. They tell me he’s got a record-”

“But he was cleared!”

“Of the chamber of secrets, yeah, but he’s still got ‘harbouring a dangerous creature’ from Buckbeak, and all the times he’s used magic when he wasn’t supposed to after his wand got broken. Then they say that of course he could be moved back to St Mungo’s if they had testimony from a member of their own organisation, one that could be trusted, and then they present me with a contract for becoming an Auror.”

Severus let out a harsh, barking laugh that originated in no way from amusement. “So this entire thing is to get you to work for them? Why not sign, and then resign in six months?”

Potter, if it was possible, looked even angrier. “Because it’s not a standard contract. It’s one that’s for fifteen years, and if I duck out early, then I’m in breach of contract with the Ministry, which, for them, is otherwise termed as ‘treason’ and ‘conspiracy against the Ministry’, and have to serve the rest of the time in Azkaban. And they’d get to confiscate my ‘assets’.”

Severus almost wished he had the nerve to be that bold with blackmail. “And even you wouldn’t be able to get a job afterwards in those circumstances.”

Potter growled. “Maybe shelf-stacking for Fred and George, but nothing decent. Criminal record would stop me from competitive sports and teaching too.”

Severus nearly whistled. “Scrimgeour certainly knows how to play his pieces. So, no contract, no Hagrid. No Hagrid, no vote of confidence.”

“And no vote of confidence means we’re stuck with Umbridge,” finished Potter.

They stood in depressed silence for a moment, Potter no doubt beating himself up over the gamekeeper’s situation, while Severus tried not to think about having to work with Umbridge again.

“The Headmaster will undoubtedly intervene where Hagrid is concerned,” offered Severus, suddenly, surprising both of them.

Potter nodded. “That’s what I’m counting on, but he said it’s going to be months before trials officially come around. If Hagrid wakes up before then…” he trailed off, and Severus could see in his eyes that he was considering taking the deal.

“Don’t sign,” said Severus, feeling charitable, and fairly certain of Dumbledore’s wrath if he did nothing to keep the boy-wonder out of semi-voluntary slavery.

Potter looked at him with despairing eyes. “I can’t leave him in there.”

“If it comes to that, he could prefer to be in there and you living your life as you would have it, rather than being free and seeing you in indentured servitude.” Potter didn’t look convinced. Severus tried another tack.

“Do you know what he does each summer for his holiday?”

“No.”

“He goes to the northern most island of Shetland – the coldest, wettest one there is, and spends a month wondering around, inspecting the habits of little-known-about creatures and watching the skies, lost in his own thoughts. I have heard him telling the Headmaster about it on numerous occasions. Azkaban, especially now it has human guards and not Dementors, is not dissimilar to his holiday home. Being in there is less hardship then you would imagine – coping with living conditions we would find impossible is bred into him. He will be fine, even in his current condition.”

Potter looked slightly mollified, but still not certain of his course. Severus cleared the desk chair and sat, still not entirely believing what he was about to say.

“Why, exactly, did we go to war Potter?”

“Er, to stop Voldemort?”

Severus began to wish he’d never had this particular charitable urge. “And we stopped Voldemort why?”

“Because he was killing people?”

“And why was he killing people?”

“Because they wouldn’t do what he wanted?”

“Finally! Yes Potter, and, therefore, why did we go to war?”

The boy looked confused.

“Freedom, you blithering idiot! Freedom!”

“Oh.”

Severus sighed. Potter looked confused, so Severus ploughed on. “Freedom was the crux of the matter. We wanted it, but Voldemort was restricting it. Most people fought for their own freedom. A rare few fought for loved ones lost or endangered. The Headmaster and the order fought for those who could not fight themselves. Hagrid, however, fought for the memory of your mother, the memory of your father, and most of all, he fought for you, and for your freedom.”

Potter looked stunned. Severus privately vowed that if this conversation ever came to light with anyone he was going to overdose on Draught of Sleeping Death and let the history books handle the remnants of what had, at one point, been a reputation to be proud of.

“If you sign that freedom away now, you will spit in the face of what he fought for, of what he nearly died for. And if it takes a few more weeks of him sitting in a cell, bored out of his brains, for him to achieve his desired ends for you, I guarantee he will not begrudge you it.”

Potter looked almost teary. Severus threw up his hands and deliberately muttered about pea-brained, moronic children all the way to the door. He had just put a foot through the doorway when he heard Potter’s voice from behind him.

“Thank you, Professor.”

He whirled, retraced his steps and placed his wand at the tip of Potter’s nose. “If you ever, ever tell anyone what I just told you, I shall hex off not only your tongue, but also your genitals, do I make myself clear?”

The boy nodded, and Severus, feeling idiotically vulnerable, set off for the library.