Lessons In Love

Chapter 71: Top of the List

The smell of musty stones mixed with antiseptics of sorts permeated his senses as Severus Snape fidgeted slightly at the off mixture. Scratchy old sheets were tightly wrapped around his numb body as he fought for consciousness under a hazy dose of what he assumed to be a heavy sleeping draught. He frowned, fighting to open his eyes and swallowed hard, feeling a rather enlarged throat hardly able to do the menial task. The simple act that he was unable to accomplish gave him a startling revelation of his absence from reality. Where was he? What had happened? Why did his body ache so treacherously and intensely? He squinted through the bright lights that were beaming into his face and he quickly shielded his vision from the nasty brilliance that threatened to burn his retinas to a crisp.

His lips were extremely chapped and he found it painful to open his mouth in the slightest which tugged and pulled at the sensitive skin that had dried and cracked from lack of moisture. He was extremely uncomfortable all at once and he moved his heavy body only a small fraction and found waves of excruciating pain pass through his torso, on his side, and he growled to himself at his lack of mobility even in his position of rest. He blinked quickly and turned his head to his left to peek out, away from the beams that were threatening to blind him and surveyed the scenery. He instantly recognized that he was in the Hospital Wing back at the castle and he flared his nostrils in annoyance before licking his lips and trying to maneuver himself into a sitting position. He failed miserably.

He hissed at the movement and made an upsetting sigh as he explored his efforts put into moving his arms. It was a simple act but for him at that moment, it was dreadfully difficult as if he hadn't used his limbs in days. He snorted to himself at his sarcastic thought and scolded himself realizing that he probably had been unconscious for quite some time to be as stiff as he was. Either that or he was just getting plain old. He would've liked to claim to the first option and opted that he had indeed been out cold for quite some time for he had not a clue what had happened in the first place to get him to where he was. He licked his lips once more as he turned his head about the room to inspect if there was anyone or anything he could entertain himself with.

The table at the end of his bed was piled with "Get Well" cards and small gifts for well wishing. When had he ever received such small tokens of affection? Surely he had no admirers... he turned his head back to his right and saw a lovely vase of small white flowers that seemed so familiar to him. Lily of the Valley was daintily placed into an antique vase that he once recalled he had given to a bushy haired girl when she had been ridden with fever. Hermione... the flowers were from his love. He smiled softly to himself just momentarily before wiping the grin off his face and fidgeting again to see The Daily Prophet lying next to the vase. He saw violently moving pictures and big bold letters on the front of the page and he strained his neck to see the writing but was in vain.

He huffed; looking about to make sure no one was around to see him struggling when he had a lapse of judgment, he decided, when he somehow completely missed the caramel curls cascading over the side of the bed. A sleeping girl let out soft, peaceful sighs as her locks covered her face from view and Severus recognized the beautiful young woman in the chair next to his bed to be Hermione Granger, the love of his life. His eyes softened only for a moment as he took in the breathtaking sight of the sleeping girl next to him before he decided that he would not wake her for her help. He would get to that paper if it killed him. Severus Snape was not helpless! He unfurled his long fingers and let his arm become accustomed to the feel of his tight muscles having swift movement once more. Slowly but surely, he was able to twist his arm every which way enough to bend it and was now practicing the art of holding it up long enough to be able to grab the newspaper.

After quite some time of his silent struggles, his arm finally held out long enough for his shaky hand to grab the paper and drag it towards the edge in a lazy manner that disgusted him. He felt so weak and he detested the sense of vulnerability. He swallowed hard again, wincing at the feeling of knives being drug down his esophagus but he shivered slightly, trying to rid himself of the awful texture in his throat. He sighed in triumph when he let the paper slide from the desk to his grasp and greedily devoured the front page in a hunger that could only be satiated by the black newsprint displayed across the paper. Memories rushed back to him in frenzy as he stared at a frantic Delmer Blevins being held by two Aurors while being transported to Azkaban Prison on the front picture. He let his lips move softly as he silently read the headlines, Tyranny in the Ministry: Two wounded and one dead!