Chapter Text
Severus couldn’t breathe.
His mind was hazy like the sky just before a storm, and trying to grab onto any coherent thought just made him feel like he was wading through syrup. He flit in and out of consciousness, as his mind slowly woke up.
Light flashed across his weak vision, and suddenly a searing pain made its way up his spine to spread through his head and neck. It was like fire searing his skin, and he had the immediate urge to cry out in pain. But his voice didn’t come, couldn’t come. Instead another spike of pain coursed through him, and blearily he opened his eyes to soft lights.
Unable to move his head, he scanned his surroundings as best he could, disoriented though he was. He took large, gasping breaths, attempting to stop himself from hyperventilating. Blinking several times, he took in a small room with almost no light, save for the dying embers of a fire in the fireplace across from the bed he was lying in. The room was filled with a warm glow, and occasionally the wood in the hearth would pop and crackle gently. Severus found himself momentarily mesmerized by the flames, before quickly shaking himself out of it.
As he grew more coherent, he began to think of more important questions. At the forefront of his mind, currently, was where was he. And why wasn’t he dead.
He tried to reconstruct his memories before waking up, and found himself continuously running into a brick wall. All he could remember was the Dark Lord looking at him, emotionless, as a searing pain filled his throat and he choked on his own blood. He should, theoretically, be dead. But based on the pain he still felt, the afterlife was far away from him.
All attempts at movement were also unsuccessful. Each time he strained trying to move his neck, it only resulted in another streak of pain. He did find, though, that if he concentrated enough he could move his fingers just a little. So he wasn’t completely paralyzed, at the very least.
Then he heard a soft creak on his right, where there was presumably a door as he heard the soft sounds of footsteps on carpet. Unable to see who had entered the room, and unable to call for them, he resigned himself to simply waiting, whether or not the person was friend or foe.
“Oh, I knew something felt off. I’m glad to see you awake, Professor,” a soft, lilting voice said. The voice came into vision, and he was met with thoughtful blue eyes and long, silvery blonde hair that sparkled in the dim firelight. Hazily, he reached for her name, knowing he had seen her before, and eventually caught it: Luna Lovegood. The dreamy, ditzy wraith who always disturbed him with her unwavering stare.
That same stare met him now, though more lucid than he could recall ever seeing it.
Out of habit he attempted to reply, causing him to nearly choke on air as another wave of pain came crashing down, radiating from his neck upward. He coughed until he could barely breathe, and then felt himself gasping for air.
Gently, so gently he almost couldn’t feel it, a hand snaked under his back and lifted him up to a sitting position. He felt a glass being lifted to his lips, and drank greedily as he suddenly felt as though it had been years since he’d had water.
“You shouldn’t try to speak for now, Professor. A lot of damage was done to your throat, you’d best rest it for now,” Lovegood said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. Severus then connected that it was her hand on his back, and her hand pushing the glass against his lips. A part of him recoiled, mortified that his former student was doing such things for him. Another part altogether was grateful for her, albeit unexpected, care.
But this presented another challenge then. If he was unable to talk, then how was he to get any answers on how he was still alive? Or what happened to Potter and Voldemort and Hogwarts for that matter? Were they all killed, was his sacrifice for nothing? Or had they ended the war once and for all?
Luckily, Lovegood seemed to know he would have questions, as she thankfully began to explain. She lowered him back onto the bed and gently positioned him so he was now facing her. He could see now that she was sitting in a plush armchair at his bedside, and he could tell from the window behind her that it was the middle of the night.
“I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on and where you are, Professor. Please don’t worry, you’re currently at my house. You probably remember, but you were bitten by Nagini. Harry and Hermione and Ron found you in the shrieking shack, but they thought it was too late for you. I came soon after them, though, and managed to get you to safety.”
She paused, turning to look away from him as though remembering something, before turning back and continuing.
“We brought you to St. Mungo’s, and they did everything they could to save you. But since the bite was on your neck, Professor, I think they lost all hope. You were in a coma, and the healers said they didn’t know if you would wake up.” For some reason she looked angry as she said this, though Severus couldn’t decipher why.
“So they said they couldn’t do anything more for you, so I said I would bring you home. They tried to protest, of
course; Professor McGonagall nearly insisted you be placed in permanent care. But I’m a war hero, now, so I’ve got sway you see. They let me take you home, but I think they thought nothing would come of it. But I knew you would wake up, eventually, and here you are, awake, and I’m ever so glad,” she gushed, smiling at him. Severus couldn’t remember the last time someone smiled at him.
“You’ve been sleeping for nearly five months now.” She tilts her head at him, pursing her lips as she does so. “I think you just needed the rest.”
As she said how long he’d been in a coma for, he felt his breath catch. Five whole months, he’d spent sleeping. How was that even possible? How, by some miracle, was he even alive?
And why had the inane girl taken him in the first place when there had been nearly no hope of his survival?
These questions, however, were too big for him to answer at the moment, and he felt his mind protest at the thoughts he was forcing through it. His eyelids flickered, and he was sure he would have yawned had his muscles cooperated.
Lovegood, by some chance, noticed his tiredness, and gently hummed as she lowered him back down to a sleeping position. Had he been more lucid and aware, he undoubtedly would have protested at being moved like an invalid, but all he could think about was the gentleness of her touch.
“But it is the middle of the night, Professor. I know you’ve only just woken, but you still need quite a bit of rest to heal. I will leave you to sleep.” She got up to move away from him, and for some reason his heart was seized with unreasonable fear. The thought of being left alone frightened him so much, he felt sick at the mere thought. Sure, he would only have crazy Luna Lovegood for company, but that was better than the alternative of being left alone with his own thoughts.
He had no way, of course, to communicate this with Lovegood. But his visceral fear made him begin to hyperventilate again, causing Lovegood to turn around sharply.
Seeing his pale expression, she was immediately at his bedside again, hovering over him.
“What is it, Professor?” she asked, and he detected a hint of panic in her voice. “What do you need?”
Being unable to speak, he attempted to plead with his eyes as he felt them grow wet. Any and all dignity he might have had was thrown away as he simply couldn’t stomach the thought of being left alone.
Lovegood, blessedly, seemed to understand him, as she took her seat beside him once more, just out of his view.
“It’s alright, Professor, I’m right here,” she said, calmer this time, though there was a slight edge to her voice.” I don’t know what you need, I’m sorry. But I can stay with you, if that’s alright.”
Seeing his breathing calm down, she seemed to take that as an affirmative, and settled more comfortably into the chair.
Severus, as though charmed, dropped almost immediately to sleep, feeling blackness overtake his vision as a gentle hum lulled him to sleep.