Meeting Patronus | A Severus Snape Love Story

Chapter 12 "No Good Student Shall Go Unpunished"

Snape marches into Dumbledore's office the next day, unannounced.

"I know who did it." He says flatly, not noticing another person in the room.

"Severus, this is William Sullivan." Dumbledore gestures towards the man. Ryan Sullivan's Father.

Severus boils with anger. He stares down at the man, his son a spitting image of his father.

"His son—" Severus interjects.

"Mr. Sullivan, please excuse us." Dumbledore requests. He nods and leaves the room.

"What was he doing here!?" Snape demands. "His son!—"

"I know." Dumbledore says, deflated.

"What did he say to you?" Snape says, aggression in his tone.

"This is a precarious situation, Severus.—"

"I think it's rather simple, actually." Severus challenges, his eyes fired with intensity.

"There will be punishment in place for Ryan Sullivan, however—"

"However, what? Should I show you what he did!?"

"I want that boy gone from our school as much as you do, Severus."

Snape pauses.

"But the Sullivan's are a powerful family. They could harm [y/n]'s reputation, her future. She does not have riches and power at her disposal. Not to mention the board is already on our tail and they are prepared to stand against her should it come to that." Dumbledore sighs. "We have to tread carefully."

The door to the office opens, it's Dumbledore's assistant, Marney.

"Apologies sir, you asked me to tell you right away. Miss [l/n] is awake."

Oxygen flows through a tube running behind your ears and over your upper lip. It tickles you as you uncomfortably scrunch your nose, but it's better than having tubes down your throat. You still don't know if you can speak. You haven't tried since the first time. The thought that you may not be able to speak again scares you to your core, so you'd rather find out later than sooner. Although you don't sing for anyone besides your mom and that one time for Severus, it's still a source of personal pride. The one thing you love about yourself. Losing your voice would be devastating.

You lay in bed, surrounded by other beds and patients. It's your own personal hell. You hear and see everything going on around you. The old woman who deliriously talks to someone that's not there, the 7-year-old who can't keep food down, the young man complaining about the lack of channels on the telly. You're jolted in the middle of the night most nights, by the sound of the some of them writhing in pain, they too in their own hells. You'd read a book to pass the time, but none are available, and you don't think you could if you tried. Your mind is blank and constantly drifting elsewhere. You feel dazed under all of the drugs they're pushing through your IV. You guess no one knew to tell them of your addictive tendencies. Works for me. You think.

It's like nothing matters these days. Just existing is exhausting, mostly because you're crying all the time. You can't think about Hogwarts, or the twins, or your mom, or even Severus. God, Severus. The anger that creeps up in you when he crosses your mind is the only emotion you can muster other than sadness. You want to hate him with all of your being, and you almost convince yourself that you do. But at the end of the day, none of it matters. You find yourself thinking about your Uncle, someone you've tried not to think about for years. If only you could talk to him now. Ask him why this happened to you. Why it's always impossible to feel safe. But the person you want to see the most does not exist in this world anymore, and a part of you wishes you joined him on the other side that night, left on the cold hard floor, beaten and bloody. A fever steadily creeps to your forehead as chills run down your body.