Author’s note: Do forgive me if this is sillier than usual. My neck is hurting me and I am currently on muscle relaxants. I wanted to update this fic today because numerous other tasks are requiring my attention, and I did not wish to make you wait too long. Thank you for your kindness.

Next time: Harry, Lucius and Draco enter the picture.

Your devoted

Logospilgrim, the quiet professor

--

McGonagall poured water into a glass. “Here, Severus. Have some water.”

Dumbledore supported Snape’s shoulders while McGonagall handed the glass to Snape, who drank slowly.

“There we are,” McGonagall said. “Is that better? Are you finished?”

Snape nodded, and she put the half-empty glass on the night table; Dumbledore very gently lowered Snape onto the pillow.

“Why didn’t you let me know you had been summoned, lad?” Dumbledore said.

Snape shrugged. “I was distracted.”

“Tell me what happened. Unless you would prefer to rest.”

“The Dark Lord... knows that I shall soon be useless. Lucius has been assigned to my care,” Snape said with a tired smirk. “You should expect him any day. He’ll be the intermediary between me and the Dark Lord until... I am no longer coherent, I imagine.”

McGonagall stared pointedly at Dumbledore.

“Once Hogwarts is within his grasp... it appears that by then, he will have to find a replacement for me,” Snape said. “Your time is running out.”

“Could you elaborate what you meant when you said that you were distracted, Severus?” Dumbledore said at last.

“I’d prefer... to rest.” A sheen of sweat had begun to cover his features.

“All right,” Dumbledore said. “I think you have answered my question.” He patted Snape’s hand. “That’s enough for now.”

McGonagall, who had seemed ready to berate Dumbledore, was mollified. “Finally. Since you are both being sensible, I’m going to fetch Poppy.”

“It won’t make any difference,” Snape mumbled.

“And then, you should eat a bit, Severus,” McGonagall said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“It couldn’t hurt to try,” Dumbledore said. He felt Snape’s forehead with his palm. “Was it this bad yesterday?”

“It was worse.” He coughed.

“I’ll be back with Poppy,” McGonagall said, her eyes glistening.

Dumbledore poured water into the hand basin, dipped a cloth in the cool liquid, and began wiping Snape’s face. Snape looked up at his former Headmaster, startled.

“Don’t give up yet, Severus,” Dumbledore said. “You still have much to live for.”

“Spare me your sentimental nonsense.”

“Harry needs you. He’ll need someone like you when I’m gone.”

“Evidently, I have become delirious.”

“I’m quite in earnest,” Dumbledore said, lightly dabbing Snape’s neck with the wet cloth.

The younger man grimaced. “I am not at all in the mood... to discuss Potter’s brat...”

“Of course. Forgive me, Severus. I didn’t mean to agitate you.”

Snape frowned at Dumbledore but remained silent.

“Two more weeks should do it. It is no longer necessary for you to brew any additional potion,” Dumbledore said. “Gather your strength. Rest.”

“You speak of your death as though it... shouldn’t affect me,” Snape said, his eyes hardening and watering at the same time.

Dumbledore sighed. “I know. But that’s how it is, Severus. You know better than anyone what we’re up against. Losses are sometimes inevitable.”

Snape closed his eyes and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I’m sorry that you’ve lost so much,” Dumbledore said. “Just remember what I said, about Harry. Learn to see what you have. It’s too late for me. I put on that ring despite all that I already knew. I believe you’re wiser than I am.”

Snape didn’t reply. Dumbledore continued to stroke the young man’s feverish brow.

“Albus... I’m tired.”

Dumbledore’s hand stilled. He watched as tears slid from beneath Snape’s eyelids and mingled with water and perspiration.

“I’m so sorry,” Dumbledore said.

McGonagall entered the room with Pomfrey, who hurried to Snape’s side and drew her wand.

“You should have sent for me sooner,” she told Dumbledore, a stern frown creasing the flesh above the bridge of her nose. She ran her wand along the length of Snape’s body.

“He’s very weak. He needs to eat something, and plenty of liquids.” The tone of her voice made it clear she would brook no argument, but Snape didn’t protest. “Let me bring his fever down...” She muttered a spell.

“Dobby,” Dumbledore said.

The House Elf appeared an instant later and bowed repeatedly before the elderly wizard. “Dobby is here, Master Dumbledore. What is Professor Dumbledore wanting? Dobby will get it right away.”

“Would you bring a bowl of chicken broth and a large pitcher of water for Headmaster Snape?”

“Yes, Professor Dumbledore, sir.”

The small creature vanished.

“Let’s get him seated,” Pomfrey said.

Dumbledore, McGonagall and Pomfrey arranged a number of pillows so that Snape’s upper half was raised from the bed. He did not utter a word; he let himself be maneuvered into position without resistance.

“How long has he been like this?” the mediwitch asked.

“I fear that we’ll have to get used to his uncharacteristic cooperation,” Dumbledore said.

“I’m still here, damn it,” Snape said, a hint of a sneer curving his lips. “I just can’t be bothered... I’m... ignoring you. Do what you will...” He blew out his breath and then coughed faintly.

The elderly wizard and the two witches couldn’t hide their relief at his familiar display of impatience, although their sadness was also evident.

“We’re concerned, dear lad. But we’ll try not to be too annoying,” Dumbledore said.

Snape raised one eyebrow ever so slightly.

It was then that Dobby reappeared inside the room, holding a large tray. “Dobby is bringing food for Headmaster Snape, like Professor Dumbledore wanted.”

“Thank you kindly, Dobby,” Dumbledore said. He took the tray from the creature’s hands and smiled. “If I require anything else, I’ll call you again.”

“Yes sir, Professor Dumbledore sir,” the House Elf said. “Dobby will be waiting near, not far, if Professor Dumbledore is needing him.”

With a soft “pop” and a flash of light, he disappeared.

“Here we are, Severus,” Dumbledore said. “Broth, with some bread. Then potions, and we’ll leave you be-”

“No. I can’t have...” Snape trailed off, and his mouth snapped shut.

“What were you going to say?” Pomfrey said.

“It’s none of your business.”

“We’ll see about that!” Pomfrey ran her wand over him again. “What precisely is it that you’ve done to yourself this time?”

Dumbledore set the tray upon the nightstand and approached Snape. “Severus...”

“I couldn’t have done it... without help,” Snape said with a harsh sigh. “As accomplished an Occlumens... as I am...”

“You took a potion last night,” Dumbledore said.

“I had to. Only it was... extremely powerful, and... Damnation. I owe you no explanation.” Snape was growing paler.

“Perhaps it would be best for him to have his broth and sleep quietly for a while,” Dumbledore told the mediwitch.

Pomfrey bristled, but McGonagall sat next to the bed and picked up the bowl of broth. She stirred it with a spoon, which she brought to Snape’s lips. When Pomfrey saw Snape willingly swallow the hot liquid that was proffered, she relented.

“Once his system has absorbed the potion he took, I’ll reassess him,” Pomfrey said, glaring at Dumbledore.

“Of course, Poppy,” Dumbledore said.

“Forty-eight hours...” Snape said. He had had a third of the broth that McGonagall was feeding him and was starting to fall asleep.

Pomfrey’s gaze softened. “Thank you, Severus.”

Snape had drifted off to slumber.

“He’ll have to be carefully monitored from now on,” Pomfrey said.

“Do whatever is necessary,” Dumbledore said. “I must tell you that... I am almost entirely convinced he’ll make it through this illness.”

McGonagall’s head snapped up. “He won’t die?”

“It’ll be very hard for a while, but I do believe he will survive. Call it a guess.”

“Albus... Are you sure?” McGonagall said.

“I count on you both to care for him when I am no longer here,” Dumbledore said, and left the room.

--

Horcruxes.

The word reverberated inside Harry’s head and filled him with dread. Six of them, according to Dumbledore. Pieces of Voldemort’s soul, which he had to find, otherwise... Four remained. Two had already been destroyed; Gaunt’s ring, Riddle’s diary...

Harry shuddered at the thought that he had touched that thing. Trusted it, like it had been a friend.

He and Dumbledore would soon be setting out in search of another horcrux: Salazar’s locket.

Harry sank upon his bed and held his head between his hands. While all of this was occurring, Hogwarts was being led by Snape. Snape. An ex-Death Eater, or so Dumbledore claimed.

What would happen if Dumbledore died?

We’ll finally see Snape’s true colors.

Harry did not doubt this for a second. Snape had always had so much to hide. What else could he be hiding?

Did he know anything about the horcruxes?