~~*>*~~
She pulled him from his death and now she would leave him to the darkness? Why? A whim? The burning arrogance to be the saviour? Bloody Gryffindor's nettlesome tendency to charge in, head first, without any regard as to the havoc their blundering would cause? Words falling on deaf ears. Did he have no will left of his own? Peace had been just the other side of the misty grey river. Death at a young age had always been in his cards. Condemned probably the moment he was born. He had lived in shadow all his life. That was always going to end badly. And, in the end, he welcomed it. No more memories, no pain, no constant struggle. No fear. In actuality, he was tired and longed for peace.
~~*>*~~
Harry stared again at the gaping angry wound at the throat of his former professor. He could still feel the blood pulsing warm over his hands as he tried to mitigate the gushing red torrent, back at the Shrieking Shack. Not much flowing now; perhaps because of the nearly dead thing. The wound needed tending, dead or not.
Then he remembered. The confrontation with Draco last year. That blasted spell, Sectumsempra. He should not have used it without knowing its effect. His thought drifted to Draco lying in an expanding pool of crimson. Then Snape was towering over him, staring dangerously, before leaving him in a flash to bend down next to the fallen Slytherin. The slender grace of his wand movement slowly over the boy's body, murmuring something. What was it? Oh yes! It might help now. At the very least it could close his torn throat. Harry centered his wand above Snape's upper body. Wand movement was a slow deliberate counter-clockwise motion as he spoke the incantation,
"Vulnera Sanentur."
At his amazement, the gaping wound began to close. The seeping blood traveling back into severed vessels. Why hadn't he remembered this at the shack? He might have saved the man then. Had he forgotten, conveniently, on purpose? No, no. A lot had happened, was happening. War, Voldemort. He simply forgot. The boy repeated the healing spell as the Potions Master had done for Draco,
"Vulnera Sanentur."
Hermione sniffed back a tear as she watched Harry try the impossible.
"Vulnera Sanentur."
They couldn't save him. Could they? The sweet surrounding fragrance of the grotto had filled her head almost unnoticed. Then she sniffed again with purpose. Her attention immediate turned to her Head of House,
"Professor, dittany! And chamomile. Echinacea and feverfew. He's covered in a blanket of it. Maybe he didn't come here to die. Maybe he came here to heal!"
Reaching into her expandable bag for more dittany her fingers fell upon several small bottles. Of course!
"Professor, I have blood replenishing potions! I'd forgotten... with the battle and everything. I had them when we were on the run."
Minerva's eyes shot wide. She loved her Gryffindors,
"Clever girl! Give it to me."
With a flick of her wand the older witch set about clearing Severus' airway and gullet,
"Anapneo!"
While Harry continued to heal Snape's injury, Minerva pried open Severus' mouth and poured in the potion.
~~*>*~~
He paced in the darkness. Heal? Yes, initially. He had taken the antivenin for years, beginning after Voldemort's return with that damn snake. He always had plenty of potions with him, especially this last year. Everyone was trying to kill him! He had prepared this place as a temporary escape. Only in the last few months had he come to regard this as his final resting place.
It's too late for all that now! Bloody Gryffindors! The Live view into the world of the living, through the eyes of his wraith, going on just above his head. Memories pounding at him like ancient drums, relentlessly, hammering, pushing to get in. His shields? Where were his shields? More and more, the walls of the surrounding darkness pulsed. Dizziness, nausea, pain creeping in. Old traumas, beyond the physical and the intellection, clawed at him.
Another tug. What was happening? My healing spell, air rushing in, a potion, he could taste a potion. Blood replenisher! A sudden flash, a memory rocked his brain,
The Shrieking Shack, the serpentine Dark Lord hissed and slithered around him, ranting, the vile breath assaulted his senses. The merciless attack. The snake, Nagini, stabbing at his throat, fangs penetrating flesh, ripping, then stabbing again, ripping, stabbing, over and over. The pain. The blood. Confusion. Fear. Rustling beside him. Potter, the boy. Memories. Lily? Her eyes. Shock. Then stillness. The cold creeping into his bones. Trembling hand reaching into his pocket, his fingers desperately seeking her photograph he carried there. Thinking of the cave he had prepared for his recovery...or his death. The pull of a portkey. The whirl, the nausea, the landing on the soft bows of evergreen. Too weak to fight anymore. Too tired. He deserved death. It was right. One last effort, pulling the woven blanket, sweetly scented, over himself. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes. 'Come, Death. I am ready.'
He was meant to die. He needed to die. It is a debt he owed, a debt to be paid in full. A life for a life. The final payment. To go back now would only prolong his misery, his pain, his debt. For what?
Why won't they let him die?
~~*>*~~
The panther stood snarling,
"Minerva, STOP! I was not meant to survive."
The wizened woman who had known hardship and heartbreak of her own in her time, looked first at the great cat then back to Severus,
"Is that what Albus told you? Codswallop! He always was a manipulative auld sod. All right then. Why the dittany, chamomile, the rest? I'm no Potions Master but those are healing plants, are they not?"
The response was swift,
"The fragrance is calming."
The panther passed behind her, like a shadow in the glowing light. After a few moments the deep, dark voice behind her rumbled,
"Minerva, let. me. die."
McGonagall was a Scot and as stubborn as they came,
"Nae! That isn't going to happen, young man!"
The dark wraith positioned its muzzle next to her ear. A low frightful growl made her blood run cold,
"YES!"
The witch refused to be unnerved by a spirit, even a large, black, terrifying one with Severus' thrumming bass-baritone at its most intimidating,
"No."
In an attempt to quell her nerves she ran her wand over his body. The diagnostics appeared again above his still dark form,
"Slight improvement, very slight. Do you know the sequence of follow-up dosages, Miss Granger?"
Hermione recited,
"I remember reading, the blood replenisher is required three to four times a day. Depending on the severity of the blood loss, dosing should continue until all blood levels have returned to normal."
Granger wiped a cool cloth across his sweating forehead. Then the young woman used her wand to cast "Ferula' which immediately conjured bandages to wrap around his wound. She tucked in the last of the dittany she had brought along with some of the other medicinal plants from his verdant shroud. Minerva administered another blood replenisher.
~~*>*~~
Granger? Ah, yes, of course. Clever, this one. Probably why Potter lived long enough to defeat Riddle. Merlin, her essays were nightmarishly endless, tediously protracted. The notion to give her extra credit had crossed his mind on occasion but always snuffed out by his clandestine role as servant to Voldemort. The walls had ears...and eyes. The Dark Lord was a natural and ruthless Legillimens. The spy could not show her any sort of favour. It would have meant her death...and his. She is clever though...annoyingly so. But, he was clever...annoyingly so. Potter and Black continuously berated him for it—
Oouuww!
A memory jabbed at his mind, scraping the edges of what was left of his sanity,
"Always with the books, Snape," Sirius smirked. A privileged pureblood prat.
"Trying for teacher's pet, Snape? Well forget it! They hate you too!" James was an arrogant prick.
His wand fell as a stinging hex hit his arm. He heard Potter sneer,
"Levicorpus!"
He was hanging upside down. Another jinx and his trousers were gone. Laughter.
"Snivellus, you've pissed yourself!"
More laughter.
"Leave him alone, James."
Lily? He hit the ground hard. Embarrassment, shame. No teenage boy wants to be saved by a girl. Mortified, emasculated. A crowd had gathered. Laughing, pointing.
"Severus." He could not bear the pity in her voice; the humiliation was all-consuming , "I don't need your help, Mudblood!"
NOooo!
~~*>*~~
The panther swayed, agitated, almost groaning,
"Stop!"
Minerva squeezed Snape's hand,
"Oh, quit your grumbling. We're saving your life and that's that. Once you're stable enough to be moved we will get you to St Mungos."
~~*>*~~
Merlin's balls, woman, leave me alone! What about what he wanted? Why does she care anyway? 'Coward', isn't that what she thinks of him? Evil, cruel, cowardly. So just fucking leave me alone!
The darkness grew denser, heavier somehow. The burden of his memories and the pain racking his body, the regret, closing in. Weighing him down. Crushing him. Where was he? Hovering between life and death? Physically he was in what was supposed to be his tomb. Spiritually, metaphysically, where? About to pass out of existence or move on to whatever is believed, by some, to be the next big adventure. Surely, the grey area represented the moving on. Could this space then be the blinking out of being altogether? Maybe that was best.
A memory gored into the side of his mind,
She was in front of him, but behind her were professors Flitwick and Sprout ready for battle. They screamed at him with unbridled hatred, "Murderer!" Ropes shot from their wands. His own wand slipped into his hand, he countered. Shielding himself as spells and incarcerous charms flew at him. "Murderer!" "Coward!"
Why resurrect me now. For the pleasure of watching me fed to the Dementors?!
~~*>*~~
The great black jaguar bared its enormous teeth,
"Why are you doing this? Some morbid opportunity for Gryffindors to reinforce their superiority? To watch me subjected to the dementor's kiss in the public square to the cheering masses, Dumbledore's precious greater good? A chance to re-watch the evil coward's soul sucked out by the dementors as it replays on the cover of the Daily Prophet? Is that what this effort is all about?!"
Minerva bristled, her accent becoming more prominent as her frustration grew,
"Oi ye dafty! Harry saw your memories, told of them during his battle with Vold- Tom Riddle and most of us heard it all."
The panther's fierce stance lessened,
"Riddle knew...in the end?"
Harry answered,
"Yes, professor, and he wasn't happy about it either. The look on his face, it was bloody brilliant!"
~~*>*~~
Joy, exhilaration was short-lived. Replaced quickly with a deep remorse clutching, squeezing, twisting,
Stepping into the room, he saw her. Charity Burbage hung above the conference table. Her body bruised and bloodied, her clothes torn. He didn't want to think of the horrors the Hogwarts Muggles Studies teacher had been put through. But he knew.
He swallowed hard to keep the bile down. He fought like never before to hold back anger, tears. Keep his wand holstered.
He heard her voice, "Severus, help me."
No, no, no! Not this memory...please!
Another memory,
Hanging by his wrists in the middle of the once elegant ballroom at Malfoy Manor. The Dark Lord staring at him from his conjured imperial stone throne, Nagini coiled at his feet. The room lined with Death Eaters screaming for blood.
"You were late, Severus. Do you not rejoice at my return? CRUCIO!"
Blinding pain ripping through him savagely. His body writhing in mid-air. Magical bindings cutting into his wrists.
NO! Push it away, have to push it away!
Even in this dark place, even with the returning pain and onslaught of memories, even with the unwelcomed intrusion upon his person...there was that simple balm. Riddle knew. A laboured laugh broke loose from inside him and he calmed, as much as he could muster.
The bastard is dead...Satan's problem, at last.
~~*>*~~
An unexpected but strained chortle came from deep inside the panther,
"Bloody brilliant, indeed. That makes dying all the easier."
Minerva spoke emphatically,
"FOR FUCK SAKE! Mo chreach sa thainig!* You're the one who needs saving now, you bloody hero! And you call Gryffindors reckless. Severus, let us do this for you."
~~*>*~~
An odd feeling swelled around him as if being wrapped in a warm blanket. It was comforting, like nothing he had ever experienced before. The shock at Minerva's loss of composure and the intonation of genuine concern struck him hard. An added bonus, the looks on the faces of Potter and Granger were priceless as well. Hearing foul language spill from the mouth of the revered Minerva McGonagall was unfathomable to them. But he had heard her obscenity-laden vocabulary often within the confines of the staff lounge.
Still, save him or not, no one would ever accept him as any kind of 'hero'.
~~*>*~~
The panther sat back on its sizable haunches, looking less ferocious and much more peaky than his initial appearance,
"There is no hero's welcome waiting for me, Minerva. I can only hope that I have made some sort of amends for past mistakes, fighting against Riddle these last twenty years. So, please, just leave me alone. It is the kindest thing you could do for me now."
Harry had no words. He remembered the memories and how he had gotten it all wrong,
'Severus, please.' Dumbledore wasn't begging for his life. He was pleading for Snape to find the courage to take it.
The boy had stopped the healing spell as the wound would not seal entirely. But the blood flow had slowed to a trickle and, at least, it was not so raw and open.
The large black jaguar stood up and, growling deeply, began to pace around the small alcove looking down at the man whose voice it carried,
"I am irredeemable, Minerva. There is no 'saving' me."
Minerva again took the hand of the silent man in her own and patted it tenderly,
"Nonsense, Severus. You made a mistake when you were a teenager. You were trapped in the clutches of a madman. I will make sure you receive justice. It was war."
Harry had told Voldemort during their battle of Albus' plans and that Snape was his spy. He taunted Riddle with the fact that Dumbledore was dying already and he had asked the Potions Master to kill him 'to elevate Snape in your eyes' so he could continue the plan to defeat Tom. It was war.
The panther snarled,
"Minerva, there was a reason my life turned out the way it did, including my choices. I know that now. I was always meant to do exactly what I did. Someone had to play the villain...for the sake of the greater good. Like Potter there, I was chosen. It was Fate. It was my fate. I accept this."
The older witch felt a sudden flood of emotion. She could not hold back the tears as they fell freely down her face. All the pains of the past years and certainly the last two were just too much to suppress any longer. It was over now and she just could not hold back against the crushing onslaught of her own anguish. Still holding Severus' hand she raised it to her cheek in a show of maternal affection. With the meekest of whispers she begged,
"Severus, please."
Harry looked up to see this stalwart woman, Hogwarts' absolute rock, cry like a distraught mother who had lost her child. It was too much. His tears, too, began to fall. Not only for those he had lost personally but for this brave man who had faced the worst of harms to protect him and the school. No amount of strength could rein their sorrow.
Hermione was not faring any better, We deserve a good cry after all that has happened! All any of them could do was to hold it back until the right moment. Now was as good a time as any.
~~*>*~~
The pain grew in intensity. His memories were pounding, reaching, grabbing, ready to envelop him with their own form of torture. He was...existing here in this oppressive darkness, Merlin knows where,
And they are the ones crying?! Bloody Gryffindors!
E-nough!
~~*>*~~
The panther's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed,
"E-nough! I have witnessed an ocean of tears, too many in my wretched life. I have shed most of them myself! If you must show such sentimentality, please leave me here in peace!"
Minerva sniffled, gathering herself, inhaled deeply and found her bark again,
"For a man unable to communicate except through a phantom, you are very demanding. Though why I am surprised that even in dying you can be so...trying, is beyond me. I will not stand by and let anyone else die, Severus! I simply will not allow it!"
At this point, Minerva leant to Harry and Hermione and said something Severus could not hear. Both young people nodded, rose and ran back the way they had come initially.
The panther's brow darkened as he eyed the woman wearily,
"Where are they going?"
Minerva went about her business of checking his bandages and running more diagnostics. She patted his hand dismissively,
"If you insist on dying, dear, I do not see that is any of your concern."
Note:
*Mo chreach-sa thainig! = OMG! (Scottish, literally "Oh my very destruction has come!")