Broken

by: HulaHula

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, settings, etc. from the Harry Potter universe. Jo Rowling does.

Poppy Pomfrey walked from her quarters into the brightly lit hospital wing. Rays of morning light filtered down through her large glass windows, exposing the neatly ordered room. Tying the back of her apron securely behind her, she surveyed the nearly empty space. Seated on a bed on the opposite side of the room, near the door, was a student calmly waiting for her to arrive.

Her matronly heels clicked on the floor as she headed over to the unfortunate lad. He was alone, facing her direction. As she drew near, he looked up through a curtain of slick black hair. She instantly recognized him as young Severus Snape. The boy looked back down after meeting her gaze, nervously folding his hands on top of his lap.

Severus frequented her ward far too often. He was often prone to finding himself the victim of a teasing curse.

Their meetings were usually silent ones. Severus would simply walk in, followed by another twitching or oozing student, normally Gryffindor, and sit quietly, waiting for her to come and reverse whatever spell had been cast upon him. His dark eyes would dance around the room, looking anywhere but directly at her.

Severus always held stiffness in his shoulders, keeping his young pride, chin held high, even if it were swollen and red.

He only came if ordered by a teacher, or if the pain became intolerable. However, the latter seemed to happen more often after a break from school, after he returned from home. Poppy was no fool concerning the boy’s home life. She figured Severus’ father drank too much, and loved too little. But, the boy never let on about it.

She would never forget the time he entered her ward, two weeks after his first winter term began, with a broken index finger that had almost healed crooked. He had apparently broken it sometime before Christmas. How, she would never know for sure. Severus always kept a tight reserve when she questioned his injuries.

“How did this happen, Mr. Snape?”

“Fell.”

“Ah… where?”

“The stairs.”

“Yes, and the floor broke your nose and bruised the back of your neck…?”

“Precisely.”

Now, looking down at her charge, she wondered what his excuse would be this time.

Dried blood appeared black under his nostrils. He had inherited his rather large nose, but today it looked abnormally broad. Considering how many times the boy had returned from a fight on the grounds, nose broken and swollen, he was lucky the monumental feature still stood straight on his face.

The fourteen year old sat on the very edge of the white bed, spine straight, not meeting her eyes.

“Well, Mr. Snape, is it broken?”

He looked up at her in surprise. “B-broken?” His voice came out hoarse, cracking.

Placing two fingers under his pale chin, she began to tilt his head back, further examining his nose. Severus jerked his head back, away from her cold fingers.

“What–”

“Your nose, Mr. Snape. It’s been bleeding. Did you get into another brawl with the Gryffindors?” She lowered her hand and placed it firmly on her hip.

“No, I…” He reached a thin hand up, delicately searching the dirty area underneath his flared nostrils. “I didn’t know…” She watched as his pallid cheeks flushed pink.

“You didn’t know you had a bloodied nose?” her voice came out rather high and sharp.

“No.” His voice cracked again. He cleared his throat. “Professor Slughorn sent me here from class. Said I looked a bit peaky.”

“Peaky?” She clicked her tongue, giving a soft “Tsk, tsk…”

She reached forward again, placing a warm palm across his forehead. Severus leaned back again, away from her touch. “Just a cold,” he muttered.

“Severus,” she lowered her voice, “Let me check for fever.”

Dark eyes slowly looked up, seeing her concerned expression. Cautiously, he leaned forward again, resting his clammy forehead against her hand. Heat filled her palm. The boy was clearly running a high temperature.

Reaching over she grabbed a damp cloth, “First, clean this up,” she motioned toward the dried blood. “Does your nose often bleed after you sneeze?”

“Uh…” Severus looked uncertain. She suddenly noticed his eyes were red-rimmed, “Yes, that must be it.”

Turning to walk toward her potions cabinet, she asked, “When did you start feeling ill?”

She was glad the boy was still responding to her questions. Sometimes he ignored her all together. Perhaps, he felt as bad as he looked.

“Today,” he responded. She looked over her shoulder, raising a skeptical brow.

“A few days ago,” Severus sighed. His thin shoulders slumped forward in defeat.

“Take this,” she walked back over to his bed, handing him a small bottle filled with a maroon potion.

Severus pulled the tiny cork out and sniffed the liquid.

“It’s not poison.” She propped her hands back on her hips. “Go on, take it. I will get you some pajamas. You will stay here and rest until your fever–”

“But, I have to get back to the library! I can’t stay–”

“You’ll do as I say. You need rest. I will notify your professors of your absence.”

The boy gave a weak attempt at glaring. Never one for extended eye contact, he quickly looked away, back at his hands. With shaky fingers, he turned the small bottle of potion around in circles, studying how the light reflected off its many planes.

Severus tipped the bottle against his white lips, drinking the unpoisoned potion.

Poppy pointed her wand at the wardrobe beside the potions cabinet, floated a pair of pajamas toward the bed, and placed them gently beside him. Taking the empty bottle from his hand, she paused. Severus had lowered his head, softly running a hand over the second-hand clothing beside him. She was shocked at the lack of protest from the boy, who sat silently, looking at the faded blue shirt under his hand.

Dark hair spilled over his profile, as he whispered, “It would be nice to sleep here for a bit…” and with that, he slumped sideways over the clothing, fast asleep.

Poppy tutted again, the potion had contained a small doss of Dreamless Sleep. But only someone thoroughly exhausted would have felt overwhelmed by such a tiny portion.

Moving a curtain in front of the bed, she gently pulled on his shoulder, laying him across the bed properly. She spelled his boots away, revealing moldy old socks, one toe protruding through a hole. With another wave of her wand, he was fully clothed in soft blue pajamas.

Bringing the white sheet up to his chest, she saw one of his pale hands twitch at his side. She straightened her back, still looking down on his sleeping form, thin chest rising up and down steadily. A little rest and that potion should heal him up nicely. Severus would be back to his studies before long.

Turning to push the mobile curtain back into its corner, she stopped suddenly, hearing a soft moan from her patient. His sleeping face looked tense, eyebrows furrowed in pain. The hand she had left twitching under the sheet was now clutching at his side.

She reached to grab the damp cloth he had used earlier, and tossed it into a nearby basin, watching him closely.

Silence filled the room after his initial groan, but he continued to grasp the bottom half of his chest. Walking over to investigate, the medi-witch gently tugged the sheet back down around his waist. Severus’ face looked waxy, covered in a sheen of sweat. Hopefully, his fever had begun to subside.

Gently, she pulled the bottom of his shirt up, pushing his hand away. Even in his sleep, Severus tried to fight her, pushing at her hand, tossing his head to the side, away from her.

She felt her mouth gap open in surprise. He was thin, allowing her to see his ribs through the skin. The bottom two ribs were covered in a large purple bruise, blue on the edges. It was in the shape of a long rectangle ending in a crescent. Clearly, the mark had been made by the heel of a boot.

How in Merlin’s name did he get an injury like this?! A low throbbing started in her gut, a pulse, a conscience. Boys will be boys, but this was far more than a Jelly-Legs curse.

The bruise looked too fresh to have come from home. Which meant it had happened here, at Hogwarts, the supposed sanctuary for troubled students.

Poppy pulled her wand from her apron pocket, checking for broken bones. None, only deep bruising.

A surge of anger filled her, because it was not fair. Regardless of his inclination to fight back, she, and Hagrid, had noticed a clear outnumbering when it came to young Severus and his bullies. She also had a sneaking suspicion Gryffindor was only part of his problem.

Sighing, she began the healing process with her wand, whispering soft words of comfort, “Shh, no, no, everything is going to be fine.”

Albus had once asked her to report any incidents of abuse she found within her ward. Every year she mentioned Severus Snape, at least once, and every year nothing had seemed to change for the young teen.

Slowly, she pulled his shirt back into place, watching his expression relax as he fell into a deep slumber.

Horace should be notified. Although the man showed clear favoritism toward the more fabulous students of Hogwarts, he had noticed Snape’s ailment, and sent him out of class. Bustling over to the fireplace, she grabbed a bit of dust, threw it in, and called to see if Slughorn had returned to his office. First block should be finished by now.

Horace’s face appeared in the fire, looking quite pleased to see her. His wide face glowed as he greeted her, smiling.

“Yes, my dear Pomfrey! What can I do for you? Are you already out of the Pepper-Up I sent?”

“No, Professor. I need to talk to you about Severus Snape. He’s resting in bed, now. Thank you for sending him up.”

“Sending him?” Horace nervously pulled on the side of his mustache. “I did no such thing. Is he ill?”

She felt a jolt of surprise. “Y-yes. You didn’t send him from Potions this morning?”

“No, no, I’m afraid not, Madam. Why?”

“Ah – hmm, well, he has a fever. Not to worry. I’ll be keeping him here over night.”

“Good,” Horace smiled again. “Good work, Pomfrey! I have some papers to–”

“That’s not why I flooed! Ah, you see, I found a rather large bruise, and,” Poppy felt herself become flustered, as she rushed to finish her explanation, trying to stress the seriousness of her discovery, “I believe it was caused by another student.”

Horace’s brows gathered, “You believe the boy has been fighting?”

“No! Well, perhaps. But, I am more inclined to believe someone has it in for the boy… could you watch over him? Bullying has become quite an issue–”

“I see,” Slughorn interrupted, “Sure thing, dear. Now, I have some work to be getting on with. I’ll see you in the Great Hall for lunch?”

He gave a toothy grin. Then, a pop filled the room, and he disappeared.

Poppy sat back on her heels, aghast at her complete failure. The man had truly earned his name, the slug! How dare he brush her concern aside? Did no one at Hogwarts care for anyone but themselves and their group?

Standing, she felt blood rush back into her legs. Severus continued to rest on the other side of the room, his dark hair covering the white pillow. The boy lied about his reason for being here.

She wandered back to her open potions cabinet, refiling the bottles she had moved to retrieve his, straightening the rows. Severus had so much pride, stubborn pride. Whatever would possess him to lie, when he could have just told her he felt ill? Not to mention, he never really intended for her to see the bruise. What must it feel like to believe you have to go it alone all of the time? Never lower your defenses. Never ask for help.

Sometimes she wished she had no heart, cared for no one, or at least could play oblivious to all the wrongs of the world, like so many others did. Then, maybe she would not have to live with this constant ache for her hurt children. All of the young ones who walked through her double doors each day – they were her children. She would always do her best to protect them.

Suddenly, Poppy heard one side of her doors swoosh open. A red-head, wearing a Gryffindor patch on her robes, walked through the door, heading straight for the sleeping Slytherin.

Lily Evans had become quite the blossoming beauty since the previous summer. Poppy had noticed many of Hogwarts’s young male students turning to watch the girl walk by during meals. Especially Mr. Potter, who followed the girl around excessively. Yet, here she was, placing an oversized black and orange card on the table beside ill-favored Severus Snape.

The girl had not noticed her standing by the cabinet. Poppy watched as the girl sat beside her sleeping friend’s form, patting his hand sympathetically. Her long red hair looked particularly fierce in the bright sun light coming through the window.

Poppy felt herself crack a small smile. At least the boy had one good friend. A loyal one, too. She heard the girl quietly say something to the slumbering boy, in her high girlish voice. Lily squeezed his hand.

Poppy walked toward the bed, to greet the girl, and to remind her not to disturb her patient.

“Ms. Evans, how did you know Mr. Snape was here?”

The girl’s face looked pale, as her normally cheerful expression melted into a worried frown.

“He’s been sick for over two weeks, Madam Pomfrey! He wouldn’t listen to me! Argh!” The poor girl looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“I tried to convince him to come to you. He wouldn’t. I didn’t know what to do!”

“Now, now,” Poppy tried to comfort the girl, “He’ll be al–”

“I hit him!” Lily burst out.

A pregnant paused issued. Poppy’s mouth fell open again. Suddenly, and unbelievably, pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

“You,” Poppy whispered. “You kicked him?”

“Kicked?” Confusion filled the distraught girl’s eyes.

“No! I-I hit him with my card. This card.” Lily pointed to the large paper on the table beside Severus’ bed. “I-It was for Halloween! I think, I think I accidently made his nose bleed. I don’t know…”

Poppy suddenly felt a bubble of laughter well up from within, diminishing her previously dark thoughts. Severus had received a bloody nose from his best friend, for refusing to visit the hospital wing. At least the girl cared about his wellbeing. Even if she had an odd way of expressing it.

“Mr. Snape will heal, Ms. Evans. Although, I must recommend you refrain from violence in the future.”

Sniffing, the red-head nodded. Poppy smiled kindly and patted the girl on the shoulder. Remembering her earlier conversation with Slughorn, Poppy added, “Watch over him, will you? Mr. Snape needs good friends, like you.”

The girl flashed a beautiful smile at this, nodding again.

Poppy heard the door of the hospital ward open again, revealing Mr. Potter in a flurry of motion.

“Lily!” The wind-blown teenager raced in, “I’ve been looking for you all over! Alice told me to ask you about McGonagall’s homework. I need your help!”

Poppy noticed the quidditch star completely overlook the sick sleeping boy lying behind the lovely girl. Instead, he reached forward, tugging on Lily’s arm, like a spoiled, insistent infant.

Green eyes looked up at the medi-witch, almost as if she were asking for approval.

Poppy merely stared back, unsure of the unspoken question held within the girl’s gaze.

Without glancing back, the red-head nodded, following Potter out of the hospital wing.

Poppy sighed. She leaned forward to readjust Severus’ pillow.

Still looking ghostly pale, he had not moved during Lily’s entire visit. He continued to sleep, unaware of his desertion. Perhaps it was for the best he did not know how quickly the girl had left. Best, that he did not hear her laughter in the hallway, as the couple walked away.

She gazed down at the sick child, wondering what would become of him. If there was anything more she could do. She felt the urge to shield him. Save him from the broken man he might one day become, if fate continued to follow the course it had already taken.

Walking back to her office, she listened to the lonely clicking of her shoes.

Thankfully, he would sleep until morning.

This is a one-shot! Please leave a review! Let me know what was good and what was not so good.