FIC: The Message (PG)
Title: The Message
Type: Fic
Age-Range Category: Three
Characters: Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy
Author: prolurk
Rating: PG
Click to View [Warning(s)]Injury, indications of violence.
Summary: There are those who know who he is, even if he doesn't.
"Severus" a voice said. It sounded like Malfoy.
"Severus!" A hand patted his face.
"Snape, for God's sake!" A hand shook his arm, and the grind of bones sent up a pain that made Severus yelp. He tried to sit up, and Lucius wrapped a hand around that arm to help. Severus hissed.
"I'm trying to help!"
"S'broken."
"Shite."
Severus managed to get to his feet on his own, and then the room spun, making a kaleidoscope of the blood on the floor. Malfoy wrapped an arm around his ribs - damn, they were broken, too - and helped him out of the house to the drive. "I'll get you to Hogwarts," he said. "But I fear it's going to be bad." They Apparated side-along to a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, halfway between the Centaur territory and Hogwarts, and he was right. It was bad.
Severus collapsed to his knees and was gut-twistingly sick. Lucius Vanished the mess, what little there was of it, and offered a hand to help Severus up. "I don't dare take you to the castle," he fretted.
"No, you don't. I'll get there. It will just take a while."
"Damn, I'm sorry."
Snape leaned against a tree, taking deep breaths. "He wants to kill a baby, Luc! A baby!" Lily's baby. And Lily.
"It's madness," Malfoy whispered, afraid of being heard, even here. "Why is he blaming you?"
"I knew her when we were children. And somehow that means I know where she is."
"Or he thinks Dumbledore will tell you?"
Snape hissed a sarcastic laugh. "That will never happen."
"He's going to start killing our people next."
"No," Severus shook his head. "He'll start killing your children."
Lucius made a sound that was pure pain.
"Apologies," Severus muttered.
"No. You're right. Dear God." He tried to run his hands over his face and realized they were bloody. "Damn. Is this yours?"
"I think so."
Malfoy made a face. If ever Severus wondered whether Lucius anticipated anything like this when he took the Mark, he wondered no longer. Whatever this organization was now was worlds away from what either of them expected. All Severus had wanted was a chance to make his way in the world. He daydreamed about the Marauders having to hear of Severus Snape's accomplishments, his success. He didn't want anyone dead. All Lucius had wanted was to be a dutiful son.
And now they were damned beyond redemption, no matter what they believed in.
Snape took a deep breath and stood away from the tree. "I can help you to the edge…" Lucius said.
"No. I can make it."
"Proud bastard." Lucius patted his shoulder and spun away.
Suddenly, the distance to the lawn seemed insurmountable. And no one would think to look for him here. He should have taken Lucius' offer. Proud bastard, indeed. "Pride isn't always wrong", he growled, and started walking. Badly, but he was walking. Yes, he had a right to be proud. Youngest wizard this century to Master in anything, let alone Potions. Youngest Head of Slytherin House, ever. Which had exactly what to do with walking through a forest, full of Crucio nerves and broken bones?
Not much farther, surely? The spinning was back, and he fought to keep his balance, barely avoiding a bare branch that wanted to poke his eye. He realized he was bleeding more heavily, his ribs and lungs were screaming, and the arm, oh, the arm! Even as he tried to support it with his other hand, the bones moved and the pain was making him mad. And, when he used his left hand to support his right arm, he couldn't grasp anything that would help him keep his balance.
Of course, he tripped. He managed to turn so he wouldn't fall on that arm, but he did lose consciousness. He came to leaning sloppily against a tree. How long had he been out?
And shite, it was cold. He collected his mask from a pile of pine needles. This was his fault. He'd been so stupidly eager to show the Dark Lord that he could indeed be a spy, and perhaps divert him from his demand for the vicious potion he wanted. It was a just a prophecy, and not a very coherent one. Who takes those seriously?
And now Lily... His fault. How was he going to survive if she died? And he didn't doubt that there would be Death Eaters' children at risk. His tiny godson… More innocents, and that was his fault, too. Even if he died now, he would never be free of the taint on his soul. He was damned, no doubt. And he couldn't fix it.
It was nearly dawn; birds were awakening. He heard an odd noise. When he raised his head, he saw two unicorns watching him from about twenty feet away, a mare and her foal. It was still dark enough that they shimmered. He had to be dreaming. As yet, he hadn't disqualified himself from a unicorn's acceptance, but no unicorn would tolerate a Death Eater, and he was in the heavy robes, his mask in his lap. The mare should be leading her young one away, not just standing there. She should run her horn straight to his heart. He wouldn't fight it.
Slowly, the foal approached him. Severus looked to his mother in alarm, but she made no move. "No, little one," Severus protested. "I'm not good for you."
But the little one ignored the warning. He snuffled at Severus' bloody face a bit. His breath was sweet. Then the foal looked at Severus' arm that he held cradled against his chest. He gently pressed his muzzle to the very spot that was broken and blew on it. To Severus' shock, the pain eased, the spasming muscles relaxed. Severus yearned to caress the little head, but he was afraid to move. "Thank you," he whispered.
The foal tossed his head and danced back to his mother. They slipped away into the shadows. Confused, awed, but in less pain, Severus clambered to his feet and made his way to the castle. By the time he got to Poppy, the arm was throbbing again, but he was ever convinced that without that bit of help, he wouldn't have made it home.
He didn't tell anyone about the encounter. He saw other unicorns when he was alone in the Forest and they never ran away from him. They didn't shy away when he entered a paddock with Hagrid, even after he'd lost his virginity. They didn't let him touch them, but they weren't aggressive as they were with other wizards. He simply couldn't imagine why.
Over the years, he combed libraries for information - any information - about a unicorn having healing abilities. There was no reference about healing in a unicorn's breath.
He queried magizoologists. He asked if anyone ever thought the unicorns themselves might have healing abilities. Not as such, no, they said. Just the benefits of blood or tears, freely given. They did have some mind-healing abilities. Some healers sought their help for traumatized children. Unicorns recognized grief and despair and would share their goodness to ease sufferers. It was the mirror to their rejection of evil intentions.
He couldn't see how that bit of information applied to him. No amount of grief, contrition, despair over what he'd done could allow him to be healed by such a creature. It didn't make sense. He would never be worthy.