Chapter Text
“W-where should I place him, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry asks quietly.
Professor Snape floats on a conjured stretcher. His pallid skin is even whiter than usual, but it might be the contrast against the gaping wound on his neck. Nagini’s venom is still eating away at his flesh. The smell is nauseating. Harry can’t seem to look away from the sight. I grab his shaking hand and the stretcher steadies.
“Over here, Potter,” Pomfrey says, a slight tremor in her otherwise professional tone.
She waves her wand, a complex diagnostic spell to officially determine cause of death. It’s a formality required by the Wizengmot for when they move forward on trials for the Death Eaters captured alive, for when they award Post Humous Orders of Merlin’s, and write this battle up as a neat little excerpt on an atrocity. I’ve watched her cast it over friend and enemy alike. I still haven’t totally reconciled which Snape is when the diagnostic spell flashes gold. Pomfrey gasps.
“Poppy,” McGonagall says sharply.
“He’s alive. Severus, he’s alive.”
There’s a flurry of movement. Slughorn summons numerous potions from his private stores and sets a cauldron to brewing right there in the Great Hall. Bill and Charlie Weasley note the scene and come forward, desperate for a distraction from their grief. Their combined expertise in curses and venoms comes together with Slughorn’s brews and Flitwick’s charms. McGonagall conjures a tent over us, blocking our corner from the rest of the hall.
“We should reach out to Mungo’s,” Charlie says suddenly. “Dad…”
“Your father was bitten on the side and attended to immediately. Severus has had nearly a full day of the venom at work. That he’s alive is nothing short of a miracle.”
“There’s something in him,” Bill says. “There’s some sort of protection imbued in his body. A shield I can sense, but I don’t understand. Does he have runes?”
I look away as they examine his body, looking for the ancient markings. When he’s redressed, I turn back. It occurs to me that we might be in the way, but I can see from the set of his jaw that Harry will not move until he knows Snape’s fate. My fingers are going numb in his grip.
“If only we could have his expertise,” Flitwick squeaks regretfully. “He had your potions sorted within minutes of examining you, Hermione.”
My free hand goes to my chest reflexively. “Professor Snape brewed m-my potions? I-I thought that you…” I look to Pomfrey who shakes her head sadly.
“Severus was adamant we never tell you; I’ve never seen a man so brilliant in his understanding of physiology and potions. He could put himself right in an instant if only he was conscious.”
“The library,” I gasp.
Harry chuckles, an oddly choked sound, and releases my hand. “Go.”
I sprint out of the Great Hall, ignoring the bewildered looks of the grieving families. Ron is sobbing into Ginny’s shoulder while she stands, stoically. Her gaze meets mine and her eyes are blazing. She won’t break without Harry. I shake my head, indicating I don’t need Ron. It’s only when I’m halfway up the first flight of stairs I realize I’m looking in the wrong place.
I cast a cushioning charm and leap over the banister. Professor Snape had kept his office in the dungeons and that’s where I race now. I nearly bounce off the door. Alohamora fails. Several more attempts fail, and I curse, growing desperate. The room is heavily warded, but by what magic? I remember the tower with dread. A dark mark? But the Aurors have already—
“Malfoy.”
Before I can second guess myself, I shoot a patronus to the Great Hall and pray he’ll heed its summons. In minutes, I hear his footsteps thundering down the hallway, and the distinct click of heels. They’d all come. A chill runs down my spine as I realize I’m alone in a hallway with two known Death Eaters and a woman who stood by for my torture.
“Severus is alive?” It’s Lucius Malfoy who addresses me.
“Barely,” I say, pleased by how steady my voice sounds. “He needs help and I believe the answer is somewhere in his private library. I can’t open his door and he’s used no detectable wards. I’m guessing the door requires the dar—“
Draco doesn’t wait for me to finish but steps forward, throwing the door open with a flourish. I immediately enter and light the sconces. His bookshelf is brimming with texts. Which ones…?
“I need to know everything you know about Nagini.”
Lucius sneers. “Do we look like magizoologists?”
“She was about twelve feet long,” Draco says. “As thick as my thigh, probably. Usually, she eats those the Dark Lord has her strike but her venom is slow; it burns through the soft flesh and then into the bone. H-he made me watch.”
“There was a potion,” Narcissa adds. “It was used in his resurrection, and he made elixirs while living. Severus would brew it.”
Lucius looks to his family in shock. Draco looks down. Narcissa glares defiantly. She takes one step away from her husband, Draco moves a half step in her direction.
“No more Lucius. Our family has suffered enough for the Dark Lord. We owe Severus a debt for Draco. I owe nothing to the memory of that…that monster.”
There’s a pregnant pause. “Then I suppose I should inform Miss Granger that Nagini is not a true snake at all but a maledictus.”