Chapter Text
Rain battered the high windows of the Hospital Wing hard enough to sound like thrown gravel.
Severus woke to that noise first.
Then pain.
Not sharp pain—nothing so simple. Every muscle in his body ached with the deep exhaustion that came after adrenaline, after terror. His throat burned. His hands were trembling beneath the blanket. For one disorienting moment, he did not remember where he was.
Then he remembered yellow eyes.
Breath hot with rot.
Claws scraping wood.
A scream choking itself bloody in his throat.
Severus lurched upright so violently the bed curtains tangled around his shoulders.
“Mr. Snape.”
Madam Pomfrey’s voice cut through the panic with practiced sharpness. She appeared beside him almost instantly, pressing him back toward the mattress. “Lie down before you fall down.”
“I’m fine,” Severus snapped automatically.
A lie. A pathetic one.
His hands would not stop shaking.
Pomfrey looked as though she wished to argue, then seemed to think better of it. “Drink this.”
A vial was pressed into his hand. Calming Draught. Weak enough for students.
Severus stared at the pale blue liquid with sudden hatred.
“I do not require sedation.”
“You nearly died.”
The words landed cold and flat.
Not dramatic. Not horrified.
Simply factual.
Severus swallowed hard.
He remembered Black’s grin in the corridor. That awful, careless grin.
Go on, Snivellus. See where Lupin goes every month.
His stomach twisted violently.
“Where is he?” Severus asked quietly.
Pomfrey stiffened.
Interesting.
Not who.
He.
Severus’ fingers tightened around the potion vial.
“I see,” he said.
“Mr. Snape—”
“The Headmaster knows?”
“Yes.”
“McGonagall?”
“Yes.”
“And Black is still breathing?”
Pomfrey pinched the bridge of her nose like she had developed a headache. “You will not speak about this tonight.”
A bitter laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
Of course.
Of course they would bury it.
The monster was useful.
Severus looked away before she could read anything on his face.
Rain hammered the windows harder.
For several minutes the only sounds in the infirmary were glass clinking softly and the distant growl of thunder somewhere beyond the lake.
Then footsteps approached.
Measured. Unhurried.
Severus felt dread settle heavily in his stomach before he even looked up.
Albus Dumbledore stood at the end of the bed, silver beard damp from rain.
The Headmaster regarded him with infuriating calm.
“Mr. Snape.”
Severus’ jaw tightened. “Headmaster.”
Pomfrey gave Dumbledore a look Severus could not decipher before quietly withdrawing to the opposite end of the ward.
Coward.
Dumbledore folded his hands behind his back. “How are you feeling?”
Severus stared at him in disbelief.
“How am I—”
His voice cracked sharply. Humiliatingly.
He swallowed and tried again.
“How am I feeling?”
The old man waited.
Something ugly and frightened clawed up Severus’ throat.
“I nearly died.”
The words came out quieter than intended.
Not angry.
Not sarcastic.
Just true.
For the first time, something like regret flickered across Dumbledore’s face.
“Yes,” he said softly. “You did.”
Silence stretched between them.
Severus dug his nails into his palms until the shaking lessened.
Finally, he said, “Black should be expelled.”
Dumbledore did not answer immediately.
Which was answer enough.
Cold fury flooded Severus so quickly he almost felt dizzy with it.
“You are protecting him.”
“No,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “I am protecting many people tonight.”
“By allowing attempted murder?”
“You were not meant to reach the Shack.”
“He sent me there!”
“Yes.”
The single word cracked through the room like a whip.
Even Dumbledore sounded tired now.
Severus blinked.
Interesting.
The Headmaster looked… angry.
Not at him.
At Black.
At the situation.
At all of it.
But that did not matter if nothing came of it.
“He should be expelled,” Severus repeated.
“And Remus Lupin?” Dumbledore asked quietly.
The name struck like a slap.
Severus’ mouth shut instantly.
There it was.
The real heart of it.
He looked away first.
Dumbledore sighed.
“Mr. Lupin’s condition is not his fault.”
“I never said it was.”
“No,” Dumbledore agreed. “You did not.”
Another silence.
Severus hated that calm voice. Hated the way the old man spoke as though this were all terribly unfortunate instead of catastrophic.
“He could have killed me.”
“He could have,” Dumbledore said softly. “And I suspect that knowledge is causing Mr. Lupin considerable distress at this very moment.”
Severus flinched before he could stop himself.
Because the awful thing was—
Lupin had looked terrified.
Not savage.
Not murderous.
Terrified.
A boy waking up in the wreckage of something he had not chosen.
Severus hated that memory most of all.
Dumbledore stepped closer.
“What happened tonight cannot leave this room.”
The words were gentle.
Absolute.
Severus stared at him.
“You expect me to keep quiet.”
“I expect you to show mercy.”
A sharp, disbelieving laugh escaped him.
“Mercy,” Severus repeated. “Black lures me toward a transformed werewolf and I am expected to show mercy?”
“Mr. Black will face consequences.”
“Which are?”
Dumbledore’s pause lasted one second too long.
Severus understood everything.
Rage hit so hard it burned.
“You are protecting Gryffindors.”
“No,” Dumbledore said, and now there was steel beneath the softness, “I am trying to prevent four children from destroying themselves before they become adults.”
Severus stared at him.
Children.
The word felt absurd after tonight.
Dumbledore moved toward the exit, then stopped.
“One more thing,” he said without turning. “Mr. Potter was the one who went after you.”
Severus froze.
“He what?”
“He realized what Sirius had done.”
Potter.
Potter had gone into the Shack.
Potter had dragged him back.
The realization sat strangely in his chest, heavy and unpleasant.
Dumbledore finally looked back at him.
“You may not see it now,” the Headmaster said quietly, “but tonight could have ended in tragedy for all of you.”
Then he left.
The infirmary doors closed softly behind him.
Severus sat motionless in the dim candlelight, rain raging beyond the windows.
Somewhere beneath the blankets, his hands had started shaking again.