Flower and the Snake

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/52568290.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Severus Snape/Original Female Character(s)
Characters: Severus Snape, Original Female Character(s), Lucius Malfoy, Original
Male Character(s)
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Past Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon
Divergence, Slavery, Rescue, age gap
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-12-27 Updated: 2024-07-29 Words: 21,071 Chapters:
4/?
 Flower and the Snake
by fluffycactus, HoggyWartyHogwarts

Summary

In this AU, squibs have replaced house elves as the wizarding world’s mistreated ‘help’.
Severus had vehemently refused to participate in what was effectively slavery- that was until
he met a woman in need of a helping hand…. This is a slow-burn hurt/comfort fic with a
character driven plot. So if you want to read about Severus slowly falling in love with a squib
then read on :)

Pinterest board for those interested:

https://pin.it/4WbtHT2
 Letter to Malfoy

Severus Snape had effectively been reduced to a common barn owl. The same man
Dumbledore had once entrusted to act as a double agent against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-
Named was now hand-delivering postage. Not only was Severus doing the work of an owl,
he also was instructed to deliver the letter safely to the hands of Lucius Malfoy of all people.

Dumbledore was known for his foresight and wisdom, but Severus was at a loss for the
purpose behind the task. He couldn’t conjure a single reason why the greatest wizard of all
time would need to be in contact with the likes of the Malfoys- and with such apparent
importance as to require Severus’ direct involvement.

It was an enormous waste of time. Severus was in the midst of very important work. He was
creating an encyclopedia of sorts; a large wealth of information on every potion known and
unknown to the wizarding world. His goal was to create a single source for both masters and
novices of potion-making alike. It would give knowledge to any witch or wizard wishing to
learn the steps to create potions, their histories, and effects. Severus had put years of his life
experimenting with each potion, even crafting new variations that few have yet heard of.

Instead of working on his current project, however, he sat alone in a ridiculously large
entryway in Malfoy Manor. Lucius was nothing if not grandiose. The walk through his front
garden, which was the size of half a quidditch field, had been interrupted by rogue peacock
adorned with a golden collar. The front door itself was filled every possible frill and
embellishment seemingly possible.

Severus paced with growing irritation. The older male squib which had very formally
welcomed Severus inside had initially stated that he would return shortly with Lucius.
However, a large length of time had passed with no sign of either man, and oddly, no sign of
any one else in the visible area. The Malfoy’s were known for their high-quality squibs, and it
was almost impossible the older man would have forgotten to inform his master of Severus’
arrival. It was far more likely that Lucius was enjoying exercising a bit of power over
Severus by having him wait.

Severus found it extremely distasteful and superficial. He knew the kind of man Lucius truly
was; the kind of horrible things he had done and likely will continue to do. That man was not
as grand and regal as the estate would leave a witch or wizard to believe.

Stepping out of the entryway into the main hall, Severus spotted neither wizard or squib.
Hard to miss were the massive spiral staircase made of pure marble, the oversized floating
chandelier, or the life size portrait of the Malfoy family hung on the center wall. Severus
rolled his eyes at the shameless display of wealth.

Determined to not be taken advantage of by the likes of Lucius Malfoy, Severus walked with
purpose down the main hall, looking down various offshoots and corridors that lined each
wall. As he neared the opposite end of the hall, he heard soft but rapid footfall behind him.
Severus turned just in time to see a poorly dressed woman, assumably a squib, dash at full
speed down one of the smaller adjoining hallways.

Curiously, Severus turned to follow where the woman had rushed to in such a hurry. He
walked at his typical fast pace, but not in such a way that would draw attention to himself. He
reached the hallway just in time to see the woman’s dress disappear behind a closing door.

As Severus neared the shut door, he could hear muffled voices from behind it. He paused just
outside of the door, silently waving his wand and pressing the now slightly glowing tip
against his ear. The once muffled voices were now clearly understood through the spell’s
effects.

“-been in there for an hour now,” a female voice said.

“She’s done it this time,” came a male voice.

“Shut it, Mordiki, it’s not her fault! You know what he’s like.”

”What he’s like? Better hope Master isn’t listening in, might be you in there getting
punished.”

“I’m not- I wouldn’t-“

Their hushed voices were cut off by a horrendous scream.

“Merlin…” Mordiki said.

“What should we do?”

“Fallion went in half an hour ago and hasn’t come back out. You want that to be you?”

“He’s going to kill her if we do nothing!”

“Not our problem.”

“Merlin, Mordiki! She-“

Severus lowered the wand and the voices returned to muffled sounds behind the closed door.
So that’s where the older Squib had disappeared too, locked in with an incensed Lucius.
Severus paused a moment before he made any hasty decisions. He knew very well what lay
beyond that door. His years as a death eater gave him a very visceral view into how wizards
like Lucius treated their squibs. He was torturing some poor girl, and if Severus entered, there
would be little he could do about it without drawing suspicion.

An ear piercing scream cut through the closed door and Severus found his hand turning the
doorknob gilded with the Malfoy family crest. Severus stepped into a narrow hallway with a
set of two squibs, easily identified by the identical metal collars locked around their necks.
They both looked up at him with wide eyes.

“We were just-“

“Sir, we-“

The two squibs sputtered in unision, clearly aware of the implications Severus’ sudden
appearance meant for them. The woman Severus had followed down the hall looked about
ready to cry. The man next to her, presumably Mordiki, took short rapid breaths through his
nose.

“Two squibs eavesdropping on their master? Oh dear.”

“Eavesdropping?”

“We weren’t eavesdropping, sir, we were-”

“Yes, we were just-”

“We-” the two squibs spoke over each other in rapid succession, both attempting to come up
with a reasonable excuse for their presence in the stairwell. Severus scowled down at them
and cut off the overlapping excuses.

“You were sneaking around and now you are lying to a wizard. Do not take me for a fool.”

“Please, sir, don’t tell Master-” the woman started.

“Kally!” Mordiki snapped his head to look at her sharply.

“No, we wouldn’t want that. We both know what he’s like,” Severus said pointedly.

Kally’s eyes widened even further before bursting into tears. Mordiki placed a firm hand on
her shoulder and shook her none to gently. Clearly crying in front of Severus was viewed as
some sort of infraction.

“Step aside; I have business with your master. I am sure you both have more important duties
to attend to.”

Mordiki bowed immediately, “Thank you, sir.” He turned to grab Kally’s arm, “Kally! We’re
going!” He whispered the last part under his breath, and practically dragged the still crying
squib past Severus up the stairs.

Severus didn’t bother to watch their leaving, instead staring straight ahead with a scowl as
another tortured scream screeched past the wooden door. Memories of blood, death, and
regret gripped Severus’ chest to the point he found himself gasping for breath. He put a hand
on the wall and another on his chest, steeling himself against the overwhelming feeling of
panic.

Severus took steady breaths in through his nose and out through pursed lips. He straightened
his robes and back, head held high. His thoughts re-centered just as he had trained them to do
years ago. He was uncaring, unmoving, unshakable- he was Severus Snape.

The wooden door creaked loudly when opened, and every person inside turned to see Severus
step forward. Directly to Severus’ left was the older squib he had first met upon arriving to
Malfoy Manor. The man looked at Severus with barely an expression on his face, eyes open
but vacant.

Lucius appeared uncharacteristically disheveled as he kneeled in a hunched position. His

robes were wrinkled and his white hair hung in thin strips over his eyes. He looked up at
Severus with the same wide eyes his two squibs had done in the stairwell.

Beneath the dark wizard lay the crumpled body of an injured squib. She wore what may have
once been a dress, but was now reduced to torn and filthy rags that barely covered her in most
places. What Severus noticed almost immediately was her hair, a soft red with what would
have been curls had they not been knotted and twisted under Malfoy’s boot.

Her body twitched periodically in random places, a clear side effect of the Curciatus curse.
The woman was laying in a small pool of blood, unrelated to the unforgivable curse and
rather attributed to the still sizzling burn marks splattered across her entire body. Severus
noticed a broken potions bottle laying on the bloodied ground near her. The woman was the
only person to not look at Severus, as her eyes were rolled far back into her head as she
twitched and writhed in pain.

“Severus! Who let you in?!” Lucius snapped. He stood almost as soon as Severus had
entered, and began furiously straightening his hair and robes in an attempt to remedy his
appearance. Severus pictured the sobbing squib woman, knowing that just a few words from
his mouth would lead to her being in a very similar position to the squib on the floor.

“I let myself in. It seems you’ve detained the squib I sent to fetch you.”

“I hadn’t imagined you’d turn to wandering around my Manor!”

“I didn’t need to wander; I simply followed the screams,” Severus said with a slow glance
down at the half conscious woman on the ground.

“Well, I hardly-“

“Lucius,” Severus interrupted with a hushed tone, “Perhaps it would be better if we met
upstairs after you’ve had a chance to… put yourself together.” Severus made sure to look
Lucius up and down with a hint of judgement in his eyes. The effect worked as desired, and
Lucius immediately stood to look down at his crumpled robes.

“I- well- I will see you in my office shortly. Fallion, take Severus there immediately.”

“Yes, Master,” Fallion said blankly, turning to Severus with a bow, “This way, sir.”

Severus successfully refrained from taking a backwards glance at the red haired woman until
he was halfway out the door. He turned secretively and found the squib looking up at him
with piercing green eyes. His head whipped forwards again as his heart beat loudly in his
chest.

He followed Fallion up the stairs and through a maze of hallways until he arrived at Malfoy’s
study.
“You may wait here, sir, I will return shortly with tea. Do you care for anything to eat?”

“No. And the tea is entirely unnecessary.”

“Perhaps, sir,” Fallion agreed with a blank expression and a tired tone, “But I will return with
it nonetheless.”

The man bowed to Severus and closed the study doors behind him as he left, leaving Severus
alone in entirely too large of a room. It seemed a great falsehood to have such refined
belongings on display, when just a few stories below the floors were soaked with blood.

Not wanting to appear leisurely, Severus chose to stand next to an emerald green couch. A
short time passed before the doors burst open to reveal a far more refined Lucius Malfoy and
a trailing Fallion not far behind.

“The tea, Fallion!” Lucius snapped over his shoulder at the squib carrying a silver tray of
considerable size topped with delicate china. Lucius stepped inside and smoothed down his
new robes, but didn’t bother to hold the door open for Fallion. It seemed the squib was used
to such treatment, as he deftly caught the heavy door with his toe, slipping inside without
rattling a single tea cup. Fallion silently placed the tray on the center table and began pouring
two cups.

“Severus,” Lucius smiled haughtily, “What a pleasant surprise this is!”

“Indeed,” Severus nodded, knowing full well that neither wizard enjoyed the current
circumstances, “Dumbledore saw to it that I meet with you. An important delivery it seems.”

“Dumbledore?” Lucius’ eyes widened a moment before a sneer of a smile creeped across his
face, “Of course! As you know he had to practically beg me to enroll Draco at Hogwarts this
fall.”

Severus had already heard the story of Draco’s education half a dozen times already, but
stood silently and let Malfoy stroke his own ego. Fallion held a cup out for Severus to take,
but the wizard kept his arms folded behind his back. He glanced down to the tea cup and
back to Fallion pointedly; the squib wordlessly set the cup on a nearby table.

“And of course I was hesitant to accept, what with all the mudbloods running freely around
the grounds, but Dumbledore assured me Draco would be sorted into Slytherin. He’d be more
among his own kind there, you see,” Lucius continued.

“I told Dumbledore that I would be keeping a close eye on his education and that if his
learning did not measure up to my standards I would be transferring him to Durmstrang
immediately.”

“Ah, so Durmstrang accepted your application then?” Severus asked. Lucius jaw twitched
and he straightened his back even farther.

“Of course they did,” he said in a clipped tone, “After all, not accepting a Malfoy into their
school would be social suicide!”
Severus said nothing and pulled the letter from a hidden pocket inside his robe.

“This is the letter Dumbledore sent.”

Lucius grinned, clearly thrilled at the special treatment he was receiving. He snatched the
letter from Severus’ hand eagerly and paused a moment, realizing he may be giving too much
away. He tossed the letter carelessly on a large and highly decorated desk.

“I’ll read it when I find time,” Lucius said with his nose in the air.

“Of course. It seemed you were quite busy with the squib downstairs. Did she not curtsy low
enough for you?”

“Hardly! The creature is incapable of showing respect!” Lucius frowned, and Severus sensed
he was eager to complain.

“Obviously, why else would she receive such a punishment?” Severus asked sardonically.

“I have given it chance after chance to improve. I have been more than lenient! The thing
continues to take advantage of my patience. In fairness, you may have walked in at an
inoportune time, but trust me the measures were entirely necessary.”

“So she has been disrespectful for quite some time, then?”

“Yes! Practically it’s life! My squibs usually sell once they come of age but I’ve had to keep
this one nearly a decade more to continue training. I refuse to have the thing ruin my
reputation.

“Though, I fear it may be a lost cause. I know that Fenrir will buy anything; he’s not very
picky on the type of squib he receives….”

Severus’ heart skipped a beat at the mention of Greyback’s name. The werewolf was
infamous for his treatment of squibs and muggles, using them like chew toys rather than help.
Even some dark wizards couldn’t stomach the twisted treatment of those beneath him.
Severus pictured the woman, red hair and green eyes, in the paws of Greyback. He couldn’t
let that happen.

“I thought Fenrir purchased his squibs from the Deverills, I wasn’t aware he also enjoyed
your stock,” Severus said, purposely picking a squib dealer of low repute.

“I can assure you, I have never had dealings with Greyback before! My clients are of the
highest caliber,” Malfoy protested.

“As I had thought… I was surprised you’d even consider selling to Greyback.”

“Well, either sell to him or the squib ends up dying in training like Bellatrix’s. I’d rather not
be equated to her either.”

“It is a difficult situation.” Severus agreed, but pressed the matter no further. Malfoy turned
to his tea and took a few sips while Severus took the moment to strategize, “I am looking
forward to having Draco in my class. I expect he will excel in Potions.”

Lucius’ eyes lit up at the praise. “Absolutely, he’s already been trained on proper cauldron
care. Even brewed a few Wiggenweld potions with me last year.”

“Impressive,” Severus lied, “I wonder if he’s also taken the time to read on the history and
effects of the potion. It is a vital component to an adept potion-maker.”

“Why of course!”

“I may need to recruit Draco this year; I’m working on a book that will be available for those
who truly wish to become masters of the craft. Draco might help me with testing the new
potions.”

“Testing potions? I’m not sure..” Lucius started. Severus watched him carefully, wondering if
he would fall for the bait. “That wouldn’t put him at risk would it?”

Severus shrugged “Minimally. I would be directly supervising the experiments, though with
breakthroughs in potion-making there are always some risks.”

Severus watched as Lucius put a thoughtful hand to his chin, clearly devising a plan Severus
had subtly guided him into making. “I wonder if someone else may be better suited for such a
task. After all, if an accident were to occur, neither of us would want Draco to suffer the
consequences.”

“Perhaps, but the other students don’t have the manners someone of the Malfoys has…”

“Severus, my friend, I may have a solution that would benefit us both!” Lucius’ tone changed
to that of a salesman. “As you know, my squibs are the most well-trained and well-mannered
on the market. They would be perfectly suited to aid you with whatever…experiments you
wish to conduct.”

“I doubt I have the Galleons to afford one of your squibs, Lucius, though I do think it a wise
suggestion. Perhaps one of the Crabbe’s squibs would be a better choice. Less respectful to
be sure, but still well-mannered.”

“No need, old friend! I’d offer you an excellent deal on the young squib you met earlier.”

“The disobedient one?” Severus sneered. Lucius had spent almost their entire relationship
attempting to lure Severus into purchasing a squib and Severus had been resolute in his
refusals. To eagerly accept on this sales-pitch would garner suspicions.

“Not disobedient! The thing’s witty and a bit too smart for it’s own good at times, but the
squib has excellent manners, and would make the ideal test subject for your experimental
potions.”

“I’m not sure I’ll have use for a half conscious squib.”

“The effects of the curse are temporary and you know it. Now you’re just trying to get a
lower price.”
“Hardly.”

“You can’t fool me, Severus, I know you fancy the squib. I saw the way you looked back at it
downstairs. Not so poor on the eyes, hm?”

Severus mentally cursed himself for looking back, but let nothing show on his face or in his
body language. “Pretty, yes,” he admitted, “But you have tempted me with far prettier.”

“Five hundred galleons.”

“I could buy three of Crabbe’s squibs for that price.”

“Severus, try to haggle all you want. But I know when someone wants one of my squibs. And
you want this one,” Lucius grinned. Severus had manipulated him this far, but it seemed his
words were having little effect at this point.

“Half the price and I will ensure that Draco is the top of his class; that all other students envy
the attention and praise he receives,” Severus countered.

“Four hundred, but you’re not to do so in a way that will ostracize him from his peers. I want
others to be envious of him not hateful.”

“Fine,” Severus frowned, ensuring Lucius sees him as reluctant to accept the deal, “But the
squib needs cleaned and clothed.”

“Of course! Fallion! Get Amelia ready immediately.”

“Yes, Master,” Fallion said and slipped out the door.

“To think, Severus,” Malfoy said as the doors closed, “After all these years, it seems that all it
took was a squib that looked like her.”

---

Fallion walked with purpose to the basement, hoping Amelia hadn’t choked on her own
vomit or slipped into an unwakable sleep. He threw open the doors without care, kneeling
beside her unconscious body. Two fingers against her neck thankfully showed a steady pulse.

“Amelia!” He said, and shook her gently. Her head lolled limply before her eyes fluttered
open. “You’ve been sold.”

“To who?” She asked, adrenaline helping her wake very quickly, “Who?”

“A Mister Severus Snape; do you know him?”

“No- ah!!” Amelia cried out in pain as her muscles clenched and spasmed painfully. “Do
you?” She asked through clenched teeth. Fallion helped her sit up.

“Very little. I recognize him from when Master Malfoy was in service to a certain dark
wizard.”
“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?” Amelia asked, and Fallion nodded with a frown.

“I believe they were both in service to him. But I can’t speak to how he treats his squibs. You
know how to act, just be careful. Especially at first.”

“I will, Fallion. I’ll not try to get myself killed, don’t worry,” Amelia said. She attempted to
stand, but was hit with another crippling wave of pain, “I… Im not sure if I can walk.”

Both squibs looked to her legs, small twinges of muscle spasms popped up in random places,
the Cruciatus curse still working it’s effects. The more gruesome sight was that of the acid
burns, located mostly on her left thigh and calf, though some smaller spots fell on her side
and chest.

“If Mister Snape has any kind of sense, he will help get you back to health. There’s no sense
having an injured squib.”

The pair looked at each other, and Amelia smiled at him with tearful eyes. Both squibs knew
very well there was a large chance that this new man had no intentions of healing her. In fact,
there was a very good chance he had the exact opposite plans in mind.

“I’m going to help get you cleaned up, alright?”

Amelia nodded and sniffled, “I’m going to miss you, Fal. Say goodbye to the littles for me
will you? I don’t want them to see me like this.”

“I will… Perhaps I’ll see you again, if Mister Snape ever returns to the Manor.”

“Perhaps,” Amelia smiled sadly. She held on to Fallion arms as her older friend helped her
stand. Spasms of the Cruciatus curse shot unbearable pain through her entire body, and the
fresh burns pulled when she stood. With barely any progress made toward getting ready,
Amelia blacked out.
 Scour
Chapter Summary

Warning- This chapter contains more detailed descriptions of Amelia’s wounds.

Severus never had the ability of conversing easily with those he did not know. It seemed that
people possessed a rulebook he had never been given; some innate knowledge of how to
interact with others that he was not born with. Severus had learned through painstaking
experience the art of getting others to understand what he wanted them to understand-
though, he never did figure out the enigma of making friends.

Growing up, Severus found comfort in solitude, either locked in his room or hidden under a
tree. He didn’t have to pretend or put on a facade when it was just himself. In seclusion, there
were no missed jokes, no darting glances his way, and no snickering once his back was
turned. Self-isolation was much preferred to rejection. It was clear from the beginning,
though not fully accepted until years later, that Severus was meant to be alone.

Now firmly into his adulthood, Severus found solitude a comfortable normalcy. At this point,
he had accepted his lot in life. Severus had neither the capacity to make friends, nor did he
truly deserve their company if ever earned. He had ruined too many lives to get to enjoy his
own.

Glass bottles clattered against each other as Severus’ long fingers perused through one of his
many shelves of potions. The squib had severe burns covering a fairly substantial area that
required immediate attention. If the skin was given a chance to heal over too soon, it could
lead to infection or worse.

Severus placed a wiggenweld potion in a small wooden carrier next to a bushel of dittany and
several wound-cleaning solutions. He scanned the shelf before adding burn-healing paste and
two potions of dreamless-sleep to the carrier. Severus reviewed his selections carefully. He
had materials to clean, heal, and close the burn wounds, as well as a sleeping potion if she
were to wake during the process. This treatment coupled with a steady intake of food and
water would leave the squib fully recovered in a day or two.

Severus found his heart racing as he walked down the hall. He had made an
uncharacteristically rash decision in purchasing the squib and he would need to rectify it
sooner rather than later. Severus had made it too well known his distaste for the ‘company’ of
squibs. His sudden change of heart would draw too much attention for his comfort. Severus
had decided almost the moment he had brought her home that she would need to go.
Hogwarts would be the safest option, and Severus knew they would treat her well there.
And yet the solution created another dilemma in the ever judgmental eyes of Lucius Malfoy.
The man was a blustering fool, but a perceptive one at that. The businessman in him would
certainly notice the quick discarding of a recently purchased squib. It would raise more
questions than Severus had any desire in answering. Even still, he knew that Hogwarts would
be a far better life for the girl than with him. He would simply have to deal with Malfoy’s
inevitable pestering when the time came.

As Severus approached the large closet previously used for storage- now converted into a
temporary half-bedroom for the squib, he mentally rehearsed his plan. Severus had noticed
that a substantial portion of the burns were located on her right leg, though there were likely
more hidden elsewhere under her rags. Once Severus located every wound, he would
commence with cleaning them thoroughly, scouring away dead skin and debris, rubbing in
burn-healing paste, and finally dressing anything still bleeding. As he neared the door, his
pace slowed.

His home was modestly sized and quite old. The cottage had a thatched roof that routinely
leaked during hard rains, and the ancient wooden floor warped in some areas where water
pooled for too long. Severus knew all the spots where the boards creaked, knew which
window panes were constantly fogged, and which doors just wouldn’t stay shut. The room, or
rather closet, that he had left the squib sleeping in was one of the latter, and as Severus
silently approached, he could see the woman sitting upright through the slightly open door.

Her green eyes were filled with tears, cast down as her fingers ghosted across the black
markings on her wrist, oblivious to Severus standing behind the mostly closed door. Her
matted hair hung in large clumps at her shoulders, with some red locks twisted in knots
around the squib collar. She reached a trembling hand to the ends of her dress, using just two
fingers to pull it back. Her hands shook as more of the gruesome burns were revealed, and
she shot a hand between her teeth when blood began to run down in slow trickles.

The dress had become partially imbedded in the half dried wounds. As she pulled the dress
back, the coarse material ripped away the tops of scabs, causing a mixture of puss and blood
to ooze out and pool under her leg. Tears wet her cheeks and dripped from her chin; her entire
body shook, and yet, she made no sound. Severus could see her chest rise and fall in rapid
succession, but with a knuckle shoved between clenched teeth, she masked any sounds of
pain that attempted to escape.

Severus watched her in secrecy, staring silently as she continued to reveal more of her injury.
The burns seemed to be located mostly on her outer right leg, and as the dress pulled above
her knee, it revealed a horrific sight. Every inch of skin was burned a raw pink or bloody red.
A large hole of wet black dipped near her bones from where the acid must have pooled and
burned in deep. The squib wiped away her tears with a trembling hand, but remained silent.

Retreating back down the hall, Severus felt the all too familiar feeling of panic set in as he
realized he had no idea what he should say to the woman. He had not anticipated on her
already being awake, and now needed to think of how to approach the situation. He paced
with furrowed brows.

Her injuries were grave, and his mind raced with various strategies of how to assuage her
inevitable fears without delaying treatment for much longer. Severus ran a hand through his
hair. This would have been far easier had she been asleep. After mentally repeating a few
phrases that sounded soothing enough, Severus reapproached the door. He walked carefully,
and loudly creaked every loose floorboard along the way.

By the time Severus’ hands were on the door, the squib was sat up against the wall with the
blanket covering her entirely. Her expression was neutral; eyes and face completely dry.
Severus paused in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob and the other holding the potion
crate. Spontaneity was never his strong suit, and having a young woman lying on a cot in his
home on a Thursday was certainly more than he had imagined for the day’s events.

As his eyes settled on the blood slowly dribbling from the bed to the floor, Severus entered
with renewed purpose. He placed a small stool next to the bed, though remained standing as
he busied himself with setting out the supplies on a nearly empty bookshelf. His eyes were
locked firmly on the already organized bottles as he repositioned them into a line. Through
curtains of black hair, he could almost see her bright green eyes locked onto him. His breath
hitched in his throat.

Severus had seen enough of her burns to know she was likely masking a horrid amount of
pain; and he’d seen enough of Lucius’ depravity to anticipate her apprehension towards
wizards. Knowing all of this, Severus willed himself to say something, to offer her the merest
words of comfort. She was wounded, hurting, and frightened- any words would be preferable
to silence. Severus knew all of this, and yet, said nothing.

“Are you Master Snape, Sir?” the woman’s voice broke the quiet. Though just moments ago
Severus had seen her doubled over in agony, cheeked flushed and wet, breath ragged- she
asked the question with a calmness that would never hint to what Severus knew lie under the
blanket. She leaned against the wall casually, head held high with a small smile at her lips,
and looked Severus directly in the eyes.

“Yes,” he said. As suspected, someone had told her his name. If she knew his name, it was
likely she had also heard more than a few unsavory and potentially truthful rumors about his
character. Though, if she was afraid of him, she didn’t show it. Her voice was clear and her
gaze didn’t waver. The only sign of something abnormal was the growing pool of blood on
the floor underneath her.

“I’m Amelia, though, I’m sure Master M- or rather, Mister Malfoy already told you,” Amelia
said, and continued on before Severus could even take a breath, “Are those for the burns?”

Severus followed her gaze to the crate of potions in his hand. And just as he opened his
mouth to respond, Amelia hastily added, “Master Snape, Sir.” Severus frowned at the title,
but held his tongue. Addressing his distaste for the name would only waste precious time.

“Yes,” he said, and reached for the potion of dream-less sleep, “Drink this.”

Amelia’s chest began to rise and fall more noticeably now, and she took the vial with a
trembling hand. She did not drink.

“I don’t recognize it, sir- Master Snape, Sir… What’s inside?”

The squib was bold, and perhaps another wizard may have taken her casual tone and relaxed
body language at face value- but not Severus. He was adept at reading voice and body
language; it was a skill learned out of necessity during his years of working as a double
agent. The woman was hiding it all very well, but Severus could see the signs clearly; she
was hurting and very very afraid.

“A potion of dreamless-sleep,” he said. Severus set the crate of supplies on the bed and sat on
the stool in an attempt to appear less imposing, “That will allow me to work efficiently. The
cleaning process would otherwise be… excruciating.”

Amelia looked between the bottle and Severus several times without saying a word. Lucius
had commented earlier on how Amelia was ‘too smart for her own good’, and Severus could
practically see the gears turning in the few darting glances she gave him.

“Thank you for this, Master Snape, Sir,” Amelia smiled with a slight shrug, “But the burns
aren’t bad. You needn’t waste your time, really, Master, I can clean them myself. I’ve done it
before, see?”

She turned to the side so that Severus got a clear view of her left arm. It was almost entirely
free from the acid burns, and along the back half he could see discolored skin stretched taught
and smooth from where a past injury had scarred over. She gave him a smile, and held the
potion out for him to take.

“Don’t lie to me,” Severus said. He pulled the blanket back to reveal bloodied sheets and her
injured leg, covered in large blisters, blood filled holes, and twisting burns. Both Amelia and
Severus stared at the brutality before she snapped her chin up and gave him a smile.

“See? Not so bad! I can handle it myself, Master Snape, Sir,” she said, and reextended the
potion out to him. Severus did not take it.

“Stop wasting time. Your injuries are grave and you would hardly clean them properly. Now
drink,” Severus said.

“If you are ordering me to drink it, Master Snape, Sir, I will. But I do know how to clean
them. Soapy water or alcohol would do it. I’d have to scrub at the rough parts and wrap some
cloth around the bits that bleed. Like I said, I’ve done it before.”

Severus frowned. Her resolve to put herself in an unseemly amount of pain was truly
marvelous. If she knew the process of treating burns as it appeared she did, she must also
know how agonizing the process would be. She had to have already been experiencing
intense pain, and Severus wondered why she wasn’t grateful he was offering her this form of
relief.

“Drink,” he ordered in a stern voice. The woman’s shoulders sagged, and her hand dropped
into her lap. Her gaze lowered to stare at the potion before lifting her eyes through thick
clumps of matted red hair to give Severus one last silent plea. He said nothing, and stared
back. Amelia nodded and took deep breaths as she uncorked the vial. Her hands were shaking
and Severus watched large drops of liquid spill out and drip along the outside of the bottle.
His hand shot out instinctively to steady her arm.
“You will need all of it, try to be careful,” he informed her, and pulled his wand out to spell
the spilled droplets back into the bottle. As soon as his wand was free from his cloak, Amelia
let out a strangled scream, and ripped her hand away from his. The potion fell, and purple
liquid spilled freely, caught mid air by Severus’ magic.

He guided the liquid back into the bottle and grabbing it out of the air before quickly
pocketing his wand. Amelia’s arms were hiding her face defensively, and her breathing came
in uneven and ragged gulps. Severus could feel his own heart beat quicken as unwanted
memories threatened to overtake him. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. When he
opened them again, Amelia was sat upright and reached for the potion.

“I will drink if you wish, Master Snape, Sir,” she said in a whisper, eyes now on him. She
took deep breaths through her nose, eyes darting between Severus and the potion before
squeezing her eyes shut. She uncorked the vial and downed it with one large gulp.

“How long will it last, Master Snape, Sir?”

“Several hours at the very least. You have nothing to worry about; you won’t feel a thing,”
Severus said, though his words seemed to only worry her more, “You’ll be awake again very
soon, it will feel as if no time has passed.”

Amelia’s eyelids began to drop, but she used both arms to hold herself upright. Her head
bobbed as the potion began to take effect. She pulled the blanket up to her chin as her eyes
closed.

“Please…,” she whispered, barely audible, “Just don’t… don’t touch me.”

---

Severus’ hands were coated in layers of blood, puss, and strips of burnt flesh. The room
smelled of iron, and even Severus’ strong stomach was struggling as he attempted to soak up
the blood and puss that drained from a large blister on the side of her leg. He tossed the filthy
rag onto a pile on the floor, positioned to catch the stream of bodily fluids continually
dripping from the bed.

It wasn’t working. The wound-cleaning potion should have cleaned these burns on contact,
instead it drained down her leg as if the vial had been filled with water from the tap. Severus
frowned as he worked, unable to determine the cause of the potion’s ineffectiveness. Though
it was certainly feasible a mistake had been made in it’s production, Severus was confident in
his ability to brew a simple wound-cleaning potion.

He poured the last of the solution onto the deepest wounds and shook his head as the liquid
ran uselessly down her leg. He sighed shortly, and tossed the empty bottle onto the growing
pile of blood stained rags at his feet. As Severus’ mind raced to identify the cause of the
potion’s ineptitude, Amelia began to stir.

A quick glance to the old grandfather’s clock in the corner of the room confirmed that only
twenty minutes had passed since the time Amelia drank the potion. She should have
remained asleep for a minimum of two hours. Severus knew that he could have made a
mistake on one beginner potion, but two? There must have been some external complications
that resulted in both potions to fail.

Severus began clearing what supplies he could from the bed as Amelia began to wake. He
wanted to prevent a rogue kick from sending a shattered potion bottle into her already serious
wounds. He managed to clear away all the breakable objects as Amelia regained
consciousness.

The squib squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. Her hands
shot up to clamp over her mouth, and then one quickly grabbed a tight fist of the nearby
blanket. Tears bubbled between her eyelashes before being roughly wiped away by the back
of her hand. She took deep ragged breaths, her throat hitching as if she were about to sob, but
never did. Her eyes opened briefly to meet Severus’ gaze, and she immediately flinched away
from him.

Severus crouched to rummage through the now blood stained bottles of potions for the
second dreamless-sleep potion. Amelia’s fists clutched at the edge of the bed and pulled
herself over. One hand held onto the sheets in a vice while the other clasped over her mouth.

“The potion wore off earlier than planned, you’ll need to drink another,” Severus said,
holding the bottle out to her. Her eyes were still squeezed together, but she reached out
blindly with a violently trembling arm. Severus placed the bottle in her hand as she doubled
over in pain.

“How long as it been, Master?” she asked through clenched teeth, her voice stiff and tight.

“Nearly half an hour.”

He watched as Amelia struggled to sit up. One hand pressed against the bed and the other
held the bottle so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Every time she attempted to push
herself up, her hand slipped along the sheet, and she fell back onto her side. Severus reached
out to help her sit up, but she jerked away from him, staring at him with wide eyes.

Only then did she look down. Amelia yanked at the blanket and pulled it up to her chin. Her
eyes scanned her lower half. Severus had positioned the blanket and her dress carefully so
that he had access to her wounds while still keeping her modest. Amelia tucked her blanket
more securely around her upper leg, and looked up at him.

Severus’ chest was tight, and his eyebrows were furrowed in concern. Amelia’s breathing
was uncontrolled, hands balled into tight fists, and jaw clenched hard. Yet when she spoke
her voice was clear, and she had successfully held back tears. Severus knew she was in
agony, and yet what he saw most clearly in her eyes was gratitude. She gave him a small
smile, and he nodded wordlessly.

Amelia attempted to sit up, but just as before her hand continued to slip along the smooth
sheets. Severus moved slowly this time, and placed his hand onto the mattress near her own.
As she closed her eyes with the effort, her hand slid on top of Severus’ giving her the
purchase necessary to push herself up. She yanked her hand back, and watched him with
wide eyes.
She brushed her hair from her face and attempted to uncork the bottle, but her entire body
shook from the pain, and her fingers were having difficulty with the task. Severus gently
wrapped her hand in his. Her hands were cold and much smaller than his, but both were
stained with blood. He steadied her trembling hand in his grasp, and uncorked the bottle.

He was reluctant to let go of her hand with how intense her trembling had become. The
potion’s effects would last longer if she drank it entirely, and the shakes were likely to spill
more than a few drops. As if she had cast legilimens, Amelia’s thumb slid over the opening.
Severus pulled his hand back, and though the potion began to slosh, it remained safely inside
the bottle.

“Master Snape, Sir,” Amelia said. Her voice was controlled, jaw tight, and eyebrows
furrowed together, “The burns, Sir… They go higher than my leg.”

Her voice wavered and cracked into a whisper. Still holding the vial securely, she pulled the
blanket away from her chin, revealing a few minute burns along her collarbone. However, as
she continued to lower the blanket down to her upper breast, Severus could see an increasing
number of blisters and nasty burns. She looked at him with raised and furrowed eyebrows,
now seemingly unable to prevent her lip from quivering.

Severus swallowed hard and nodded. He understood her concern, but the situation would be
unavoidable. Her burns required treatment, regardless of their location.

“I will need to treat those as well,” he said. Her green eyes were locked onto him. Severus
sighed; the situation was grim and regrettable, but he knew there was little more he could do
to comfort her, “I will only treat your wounds, Amelia, of that you have my word.”

Her lip trembled again and she gave him a sad smile before gulping down the vial of
dreamless-sleep. As her eyes began to flutter close, Severus took the empty glass bottle from
her loosening fist and guided her back down on the bed. If this potion were to preform as
poorly as the previous dose, Severus would need to work efficiently and effectively.

If she were to wake soon, it would be in her best interest for Severus to prioritize the most
pain-inducing tasks while she was still unconscious. He began by gently tearing away the
coarse dress to reveal the full extent of her wounds. Though there were small splatters of
burns across her entire body, the serious injuries were on her right leg, side, and chest, with a
few large blisters on her right arm.

Without the wound-cleaning solution, Severus resorted to auguamenti to fully rinse the
wounds. The water saturated the bed and soaked the floor, but he knew it could be cleaned
away with a simple flick of his wand later. He used a nearby tool to scour the burns,
scrubbing away dried and dead skin so the burn healing cream could take full effect. Severus
was incredibly relieved when he finished the task without waking Amelia.

With the wounds rinsed and scoured, Severus needed to find something to sterilize them with.
Though not ideal, Severus recalled a bottle of spirits given to him years ago that had
remained untouched in the back of his pantry. He ran to retrieve it, and when he found
Amelia still unconscious upon his return, immediately poured the bottle over her wounds.
As Severus wrapped her burns with layers of bandages, Amelia began to sir. Severus sighed
deeply, but continued his work. He was powerless to relieve her pain. The last bottle of
dreamless-sleep was empty, short lived just as the previous had been, and there were no other
pain-relieving potions already prepared. Had he known his errand to the Malfoys would leave
him with a half burnt squib, he may have prepared a bit more.

Amelia buried her face into the pillow and bit down hard on one of her knuckles. She
grabbed the pillow and pulled it over to completely hide her face. Severus gave her a few
darting glanced, but worked on; there was nothing he could say.

Now that Amelia was awake to endure the full agony of her burns, Severus felt that time had
all but stood still. Each ragged breath she took made his heart race. He finished her leg, side,
and arm, and moved to wrap her chest. As he leaned over, Amelia yanked herself away from
him.

“I can do it, Master Snape, Sir, please-” she said through clenched teeth. Severus noticed
bloody teeth marks on her fist. He sighed, and though he knew she would do a far poorer job
than he, placed the rest of the bandages near her hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered with raised eyebrows, and quickly grabbed the supplies.

Severus nodded, and turned to begin cleaning the room. Since his previous use of the wand
created quite a scene, Severus closed his eyes and focused his attention on the spell and
wandlessly waved his hand in a figure eight. The waterlogged mattress and soaked floor
dried in an instant. Severus cast another spell, and the rags and empty bottles lifted into the
air, and floated out the door. Severus kept his back turned to her as he knelt down to clean the
drops of blood left from the floating rags.

“Master Snape, Sir?”

He turned in an instant and dropped the rag to the floor. She had successfully wrapped most
of her chest, but there were still some large burns near her shoulder she had not reached. Her
arms lay limp at her sides, and sweat stuck whisps of red hair to her face and neck. She
looked up and took a labored breath as she tried in vain to finish wrapping her wounds.

“Let me,” he said, sitting on the edge of the stool and holding out his hands for the bandages.
Amelia stared at him for a long moment before handing the supplies over. He moved
carefully, ensuring only that the bandages touched her skin. Amelia watched him the entire
time, unblinking eyes trained onto his hands. After what must have been hours of work,
Amelia’s wounds were finally cleaned and bandaged.

Severus tied off the last strip and practically fell back into the stool. Amelia’s eyes closed and
she let out a deep sigh, head lolling back to rest against the wall. Severus sat with slumped
shoulders as he stared at the blood stuck under his untrimmed fingernails. Neither of them
said a word.

After many minutes of silence, Amelia looked over to Severus, “Thank you, Master Snape,
Sir.”
“I will return with food shortly, but then I must leave you alone to brew more potions. The
bandages will have to be cleaned again tonight, and I would prefer to be more prepared.”

“Thank you, Master Snape, Sir,” Amelia repeated, green eyes locked onto him. Severus
found it difficult to meet her gaze, “I can help with the-”

“Out of the question,” Severus said, “You will eat the meal I bring you, but otherwise, you
are to rest.”

“Yes, Master Snape, Sir,” Amelia said with a slow nod.

Severus gathered the last of the supplies into the now blood stained crate and pushed the stool
back where it belonged. He paused in the doorway with a hand on the wall, and turned ever
so slightly to look at her through his peripherals. He could just barely see her green eyes on
him. His heart beat rapidly and he walked with purpose down the hall, cloak flittering in the
air behind him.
 The Brand

Slices of honeyed ham sizzled in a black cast iron pan as Severus spread mayonnaise on a
piece of toast. The metal knife scraped along the browned surface and flicked up tiny bits of
bread. The ham began to curl inwards around its edges, and Severus flipped it over with a
spatula, the uncooked side hitting the hot cooktop with a hiss.

Some of Severus’ most pleasant memories were in the kitchen. As a little boy, he and his
mother would spend hours preparing dinner for his father’s arrival. She would let him take
his time chopping each vegetable so that they were all uniform in size and shape. When he
was a bit older, a Muggle neighbor of his would often recruit his smaller hands for rolling out
bread or icing sugar cookies.

Severus topped the bread with perfect layers of lettuce and tomato. He flipped the ham once
more to ensure both sides were seared with a delicious golden brown before carefully laying
them on the sandwich and cutting the slices into four triangles. Once fully prepared, the
sandwich joined a plate lined with fruit that he had cut into even bite sized pieces intended to
make it easier for her to eat.

Once Amelia’s meal was complete, Severus grabbed two pieces of bread from the bag and
tore off two large leaves of lettuce before slapping in a cold piece of ham from the fridge. He
ate his meal on a stool that was shoved into the dim corner of his kitchen. His elbows rested
on each knee as he ate joylessly, eyes staring blankly at a chipped tile on the floor below. As
he took a bite without fully finishing the previous one, the still cold and wet slice of ham slid
between the pieces of lettuce and landed on the floor between his feet. Severus sighed and
finished his meat-less sandwich, now staring blankly at the splatter marks the ham had made.

The day’s events had thoroughly drained him. Socializing with anyone was an effortful task,
but watching Lucius torture Amelia, hearing her screams… Severus squeezed his eyes shut
and willed himself to put the sounds of her screams out of his mind. His heart beat rapidly
and he swallowed hard. Any reminders of what he had done were difficult to bear.

Once his small meal was finished and the floor-ham tossed in the bin, Severus filled a pitcher
with fresh water and grabbed her plate. As he headed down the hallway just right of the
kitchen, Severus sighed to himself. It would be ideal, though improbable, if she had somehow
managed to fall asleep despite the pain.

Severus nudged the door with the toe of his shoe before opening it fully with his elbow.
Amelia was not asleep, of course, and smiled at him when he entered. Severus did not have
the energy to muster one in return. Instead, he wordlessly dragged the wooden stool near her
bed with his foot, and set the food and water on top. He arranged everything so that they were
well within her reach, and headed back out the door.

“Master Snape, Sir?”

He could not hold back a sigh, and turned. Amelia was half covered in bloodied bandages
and a barely intact dress. Her hair was matted, though she must have been attempting to
remedy that, as there were fewer clumps and new streaks of blood in her curls. A goblin-
made metal collar hung around her neck, denoting her as nothing more than a squib. Yet,
when Severus looked at Amelia, it was as if she was with him again.

“This is all for me?”

Her voice was barely a whisper, and she looked at the plate containing a single sandwich and
some fruit with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. It was a safe assumption that she rarely
experienced warm meals or fresh fruit. Severus grit his teeth as his mind replayed a memory
of Lucius grinning madly while torturing a young male squib. His ears rang with the ghost of
his screams.

“Yes,” he said, his voice slightly louder than he had intended, “You would hardly recover at
all if I fed you poorly.”

She tilted her head, red hair falling across her collar and bandaged shoulder. Her green eyes
pierced daggers in his chest. She gave him a wide smile; her teeth were straight with a small
gap in front, “Thank you, Master Snape, Sir! I can promise you that once I’m better I will be
of great service to you!”

Severus grimaced and nodded shortly.

“Eat,” he barked, “I will return in a few hours once I have brewed more potions of dreamless-
sleep and pain-relief.”

“Is there anything I can do to help, Master Snape, Sir?” she asked before he had hardly
finished speaking.

“You can eat as I have instructed,” he said, “Otherwise, rest. Exerting yourself in any way
now would be a hinderance to your recovery.”

“Yes, Master Snape, Sir, I’ll eat and rest.”

Severus swallowed hard and barely managed a half nod before he headed out the door.

“Thank you again, Master Snape, Sir!” Amelia called, but this time, Severus continued
walking.

He swallowed down the rising lump in his throat, clenching and unclenching his hand
repetitively. The young squib Lucius had tortured screamed in his mind, and Severus’ hands
clenched into a fist, long nails digging into the palms of his hands. Bright green light flashed
from his wand, and the boy’s screams echoed endlessly as Lucius laughed in the darkness.

Severus’ breathing came in erratic gulps, chest too tight to take a proper breath. He squeezed
his eyes shut and recentered his thoughts. He had a squib in his home now who needed him
to brew some potions, and standing uselessly in the living room was a waste of precious time.
Severus stared at the tiny drops of blood trickling down his palm, though he didn’t feel any
pain.
The door to his potion room slammed against the back wall as it was thrown open, causing
shelves of vials to clatter against each other. Severus quickly closed the door, and took a few
slow breaths. This room had been his childhood bedroom, converted into a dedicated potions
laboratory once he had inherited Spinner’s End. It was in this room where Severus passed
most of his summer days, immersed in his projects. Here amongst the cauldrons and potions
Severus could forget about anything and everything, if just for a brief moment.

The potions of dreamless-sleep would take the longest to brew, though they required just a
few ingredients. Severus first cleared his workspace before laying poppies, passionflower,
and pygmy puff fur onto the table.

He began boiling water in the cauldron, using his wand to stir the water twice clockwise and
thrice counterclockwise until steam began to rise. While the water continued to build in
temperature, Severus ground the herbs and flowers in a mortar and pestle until they were
evenly mixed. Once the water came to a roiling boil, Severus added the mixture of flora
while continuing the alternating stir pattern.

He waited exactly two and a half minutes before sprinkling in the pygmy puff fur. This part
demanded some skill, as the potion required that the fur be added in one even layer. Severus
used both his wand and hand to ensure the fluff was dusted uniformly across the top of the
boiling water. He immediately reduced the heat and put a lid on at a forty five degree angle. It
would boil for exactly two hours, and Severus flipped the appropriate enchanted hourglass.

Though potion-making typically centered Severus’ thoughts and assisted in blocking

unwanted memories, Severus found it had the opposite effect today. He could not escape the
knotted pang of guilt in his stomach, nor the sharp stabs of pain in his chest.

Amelia looked so much like Lily. Not just in their hair and eyes, but in the smaller details as
well. She had a similar line of familiar freckles dusting her cheeks and shoulders that had
adorned the very same areas on Lily. Amelia possessed a wit about her that most squibs either
hid better or lacked entirely, and it reminded him of Lily’s keen mind. She had always been
so smart, and Severus spent almost his entire childhood wishing she hadn’t been sorted into
Gryffindor.

Tears filled his eyes at her memory, something he had shoved into the dark recesses of his
mind. He regretted purchasing Amelia, and regretted that regret even more. How selfish he
was even now; how pathetic. Tears fell down his cheeks. He pictured a fantasy long broken,
of Lily smiling at him with her hand in his. In this fantasy that would never be, they were
both happy, safe, and the world was right.

Severus coughed out a harsh sob, but the sound of his own cry filled his chest with a burning
hatred. The woman had never loved him. She had chosen another man; and now she was
dead. Severus was desperate and disgusting for feeling any such things for a woman long
since passed. He wiped tears away from his cheeks and returned to his work with a firm
scowl on his face.

The potion of pain relief was more involved, though took only a fraction of the time to make.
He gathered the eleven ingredients and began to chop, stir, and mash them in the required
ways. The process was tedious, but not difficult, and Severus found himself absorbed in the
work. After half an hour, he had bottled twelve potions of pain relief, and the hourglass for
the dreamless-sleep was half empty.

Severus gathered three bottles of the glittering potions of pain-relief and returned to Amelia’s
room. From just outside the door, he could see her running a finger along the black markings
on her wrist. His stomach twisted painfully. He had yet to actually look at the markings,
though he had plenty of opportunity to on the journey from Malfoy Manor.

Severus entered and found her plate entirely empty, not a single crumb or smudge of food
left. He made a mental note to double her portion size from now on. She smiled at him as he
approached, and he handed her one of the vials.

“Drink,” Severus said. Amelia took the bottle in a shaking hand and looked at the swirling
liquid that glittered an unnatural gold in the dim room. From this angle, Severus could just
barely see the markings on her wrist. She did not drink.

“It looks beautiful, Master Snape, Sir,” she said and he cringed at the title, “What is in this
one?”

“It is a potion of pain-relief,” he said, finding it difficult to take his eyes off her wrist. He
could see what looked like flowers. His heart beat loudly in his ears, and try as he might,
Severus’ eyes were locked onto her wrist.

“What is it?” he said with a grimace.

“What is what, Master Snape, Sir?”

“The brand,” he said. The words came as a voiceless whisper, his body reluctant to speak the
words into existence.

Amelia’s eyes never left his face as she turned toward him, angling her left arm so that he
could see the marking labeling her as his squib- his property. Severus tilted his head with a
grimace, forcing his eyes to look at what was there.

A two headed snake rose from a bed of flowers, one head lifted up with its mouth open,
fangless; the other with its fangs buried into the neck of the other. The image was framed in a
half circle of flowers and just beneath stretched what looked like a roll of parchment with the
words ‘Property of Severus Snape’ in cursive.

Severus curled his lip and turned away. His chest felt tight and he couldn’t help but glare at
his left arm. He had marked her. Just as Voldemort had marked him, Amelia’s left arm now
contained the brand of a squib, black markings with a unique image and the name of her
Master. He hated that he purchased her, but he hated himself more for regretting it.

Though Severus’ wand had cast the spell that created the markings on her arm, he had no
control of the image it created. The spell was designed to denote the exact witch or wizard
owning the squib, as well as an image unique to their character. Severus couldn’t take a
second look at the self-mutilating snake.
“Mister Malfoy’s was just a fancy letter M,” Amelia said quietly. Severus closed his eyes,
imagining himself anywhere else but there. He turned his back to Amelia and he could hear
the sheets rustling behind him. “I like this much better, Master Snape, Sir.”

Severus let out a bitter laugh at her attempt to cheer him up. She was labeled as his property,
covered in burns, and collared for life, yet she was the one attempting to raise his spirits. He
was pathetic. Severus Snape was certainly a poor excuse for a wizard, and an even shoddier
excuse for a man.

“Are you alright, Master Snape, Sir?”

Her hand touched his left arm gently, and Severus reacted as if she had stuck him with a hot
poker. He ripped his arm away and glared down at her. He didn’t want her anywhere near that
mark. She could never touch it. She could never know of it.

“Don’t touch me!” he snapped. He could hear the bitter hate in his voice, malice clear and
sharp. Amelia could have no idea it was not meant for her. Her gentle hand yanked away, and
she pressed herself against the far wall. Her face remained neutral, but Severus knew he had
frightened her by the way her arms wrapped around her chest.

“I’m sorry, Master Snape, Sir, I didn’t-” she started.

“Drink your potion, Amelia!”

She obeyed in an instant, frail fingers struggling to uncork the bottle as it shook in her hands.
Before he could move to assist, she pulled the cork off with her teeth and gulped the potion
down. She placed the cork back in the bottle, and moved to hand it back to Severus. With her
arm outstretched, she let out an an audible gasp, and the potion fell. Severus caught the
potion with a wandless spell, though Amelia seemed not to notice, eyes wide and staring at
her injuries with a gaping mouth.

“I don’t feel anything!” she exclaimed in a hush tone, as if speaking it would undo it all. Her
hand ghosted above the surface of her bandages, and she looked up at him with wet eyes.

“How long will this last, Master Snape, Sir?”

“It was made to last half a day, though, I suspect based on how the previous potions
preformed the effects will be diminished,” he said. Severus left two extra potions on the
wooden stool and refilled the pitcher with his wand while Amelia’s head was turned. He
attempted to slip out of the room while she looked at her now pain-free wounds, but he was
unsuccessful.

“Thank you for this, Master Snape, Sir,” Amelia said, her voice breaking only once, “Once I
get better, Master Snape, Sir, I swear I will be the most devoted squib.” Severus continued
walking to the door without a word. “Thank you, Master Snape, Sir!” she called, and
Severus’ hand balled into fists.

“Don’t call me that, Squib!” he snapped over his shoulder. He could see a hurt look in her
green eyes- a look he had seen before on Lily’s. He left the room with his coat flittering
behind him.

The door to his laboratory slammed shut, and Severus paced between a wall of ingredients
and his work table. He took deep breaths that did nothing to assuage the turmoil inside of
him. He was a sad, evil, pathetic man. He was fraught with anguish over the memory of a
woman who was never his, and now he was lashing out at an innocent girl who depended on
him. Amelia had done nothing to deserve his cruelty, and yet due to Severus’ weakness, she
was doomed to recover in his home.

Though the Malfoys were hardly a preferable choice, Severus could name at least thirty other
witches or wizards with more kindness in their hearts than he. Try as he may to repress his
crimes, Severus knew the truth. He was not a good man. Amelia deserved better, and once
term resumed again in several months, she would be rid of him.

Severus sat furiously in his chair, grabbing the ingredients needed for more potions of pain-
relief. Though twelve bottles should theoretically last for a few weeks, Severus was hesitant
due to how poorly the previous potions had performed. He had given the matter some
thought, though he had yet to discover a suitable explanation. Perhaps the cauldron needed
replacing, or the water had been tainted somehow. The ingredients in the potions were all
different, but the soil they grew in was the same- perhaps there was some change that had
altered their magical abilities.

As the enchanted hourglass began to shake noisily, Severus put the last cork in the new set of
pain-relief potions. He quickly removed the brew of dreamless-sleep from the heat. He left
the laboratory and stepped inside his bed chambers to retrieve a wooden crate filled with
empty bottles of dreamless-sleep he kept by his bedside. He returned to the potion room and
spent the next few minutes filling up thirty six vials of the purple liquid.

Severus pocketed a few potions for Amelia before heading to the kitchen. He would be out of
the house briefly, and then dinner would take several hours to prepare. Amelia was likely still
hungry, so Severus grabbed some nuts and sliced a wedge of cheese into cubes for her to eat
until the evening.

As he entered this time, holding both the plate of food and bottles of dreamless-sleep, he
found Amelia sound asleep. She was still partially sat up, but her head rested against the wall
and her jaw hung open slightly. Severus moved stealthily, and placed the food and potions on
the stool before exiting the room without disturbing her much needed rest.

---

Rain pattered against the window as Severus donned his black cloak. His hair was still wet
from the bath, and dripped small droplets of cold water onto his shoulders. A gust of wind
whipped rain against the old windows with a splash. Severus had cleaned himself as well a
the kitchen, and had already prepared most of dinner. The enchanted pot would cook for an
hour, and by the time Severus returned from town, the meal would be ready.

Severus grabbed a black umbrella and stepped outside. Rain hit his hunched shoulders
momentarily as he lifted the umbrella. He stood in the downpour as he attempted to open the
umbrella, but found it stuck fast. Severus sighed in irritation, reaching for his wand to cast a
quick mending spell, when a voice called out across the rain.

“Severus? Is that you, dear?” a frail voice wavered from the gravel road. Severus groaned
audibly and left his wand hidden safely in his cloak’s inner pocket. The Muggle who lived in
the nearest house, though still separated by quite a bit of land, waved at him from under a
bright yellow umbrella.

Severus left the broken umbrella by his door and headed down the path to the road, already
soaked with rain water.

“Not sure if you’ve noticed, dear, but it seems to be a bit drizzly outside,” Margery chuckled
as Severus approached drearily, “Have you forgotten your raincoat?”

“Not at all; I simply enjoy drenching myself in freezing cold rain after a warm bath,” Severus
muttered under his breath as he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, no need for the dramatics, dear, I still have Sammy’s back at the house, though that was
from when he was a wee boy; I doubt it would fit you, but it-” Margery prattled on as
Severus turned the latch on the fence gate and headed down the path into town. Margery
paused and called out to him as the sound of thunder boomed faintly in the distance, “Do
bring a coat next time, dear! You’ll catch a cold walking about in the rain like that, you
know!”

Severus said nothing, and simply waved to her with his back turned.

“Always good seeing you again, sweetie!” Margery yelled, her frail voice wavering in the
wind.

Severus kept his head down, wet locks of black hair falling around his head to block out what
little gusts of rain they could. He stared at his squelching shoes as they splashed in the small
pools of water created by divots in the gravel. As he neared town, the gravel turned into
paved streets, and warm yellow lights from shoppes and cafe’s lit the darkening sky.

This was his home town, a Muggle town. Though he knew of two other wizarding families
who lived in the town itself, the other residents knew nothing of magical world. He had
grown up on these streets, and he could almost hear his father’s voice muttering a hateful
comment about the ‘filthy Muggles’ under his breath. Severus nodded at an older gentleman
with his dog, both were headed past Severus at a quick pace, likely caught out in the rain.

Severus walked down the cobbled streets until he located a small apothecary. He entered, and
stood briefly in the doorway, amazed at how much water one man could be drenched with.
Not wanting to soak the store owner’s floor anymore than he inevitably would, Severus
located the wound cleaning isle and grabbed a few bottles of cleaner as well as every package
of bandages and wraps they stocked. He approached the counter with his arms full, and stared
at the owner awkwardly as a puddle quickly grew around him.

“Couldn’t have rung yourself out before coming in, eh?” She sighed, hand extended to take
his supplies. Severus thought of how easy it would have been to spell himself dry, before
digging through his pockets for a bit of Muggle currency.

“That’ll be thirty-two forty. Cash or- okay then,” she said and took the bills Severus had
already extended to her. She packaged the materials in white plastic bags and handed them
over. Severus thanked her briefly, though she simply nodded with a sigh. As Severus headed
out the door, he spotted her walking out from behind the counter with a mop in hand.

The rain had picked up and the sky darkened into blackness as lightning flashed overhead.
Rain beat against Severus’ back as he walked briskly down the road to Spinner’s End. The
paved road returned to gravel, and eventually he could see the candle-lit interior of his home.

Warmth hit his chilled wet body when he entered and almost immediately Severus pulled out
his wand to spell himself dry. He wordlessly flicked his wand to the fireplace in the living
room, and heat began to fill the room. Severus set the bag with supplies on the kitchen
counter for later, and checked the stove.

A large silver pot filled with beef stew simmered on the cooktop while an enchanted spoon
stirred in slow circles. The broth was a rich orangish brown, filled with chunks of meat,
carrots, celery, potato, and leek. Severus dipped a finger into the too hot stew to test the
seasonings, and nodded at the taste. He checked inside the oven, and pulled out a loaf of
bread that looked to be just a tad overbaked.

Severus placed the loaf onto a wooden cutting board and grabbed a serrated knife. He cut the
bread into even slices, warm steam rising from each slice and to thaw his cold nose and
cheeks. He lay the bread out on a plate along with some cheese and fruit before ladling out a
few scoops of stew into a wood bowl.

Amelia was awake when he entered her room, though this time she was not smiling.

“Master Snape, Sir,” she said in a serious tone, “I wanted to apologize for earlier; I didn’t
mean to, or rather, I shouldn’t have disrespected you like that, and I promise it won’t happen
again. I-”

“Amelia,” Severus sighed, unable to put a hand to his forehead with both holding her dinner.
Severus knew she had no reason to apologize. He tried to think of how to explain his outburst
earlier, or how to make her understand she was innocent in all of this. But unable to find the
right words, he merely set the food on her lap and said, “Eat.”

“Thank you, Master Snape, Sir.”

“You needn’t call me that, you know,” he said softly, busying himself with examining her
bandages to avoid her ever-watchful eyes.

“What do you mean? Would you rather me call you Master Severus, Sir?”

“No. I am not ‘Master’ anything. You should call me by my name; though, ‘Sir’ or
‘Professor’ would be suitable if you prefer,” he said. He kept his eyes down, but ensured his
tone was much softer than before.
“Yes, Sir. You’re a Professor, Sir?”

He straightened his back at the question, oddly uncomfortable by her attention, “I am. Finish
eating. I will return shortly to change your bandages.”

Severus exited in a flash, and could almost feel her green eyes on his back even as he was
already down the hall. His heart beat rapidly, and he busied himself with cutting the rest of
the bread in an bid to avoid thinking too much about it all.

After taking a much needed moment of rest to eat his own dinner and clean the kitchen once
more, Severus re-entered Amelia’s room with a much larger crate filled with supplies.

“I have enough dreamless-sleep potions to ensure you will remain unconscious throughout
the process,” Severus said as he began unpacking the crate.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Professor Snape, Sir, would it be possible for me to stay awake this
time? I still have those two gold potions you left,” she said, and rummaged behind her pillow.

“How long did they last?” Severus frowned, wondering if they had only recently run out or if
she had been saving them strategically.

“It’s hard to say exactly, Professor Snape, Sir, I think I fell asleep for most of it.”

Severus sighed and rubbed his aching temple. The thought of having to socialize for several
hours while cleaning wounds that brought back painful memories sounded near torturous.
Denying her innocent request would be cruel, as he knew distrust and fear were her likely
motivators. Severus glanced between the potions of pain-relief in her hand and the potions of
dreamless-sleep in his.

“Tomorrow you may. Tonight, however, your burns are extensive and you would only slow
me down,” Severus said. He could see her open her mouth and quickly added, “Don’t attempt
to argue this, Amelia. You should be grateful I’m giving you any potions at all.”

“I’m very grateful, Professor Snape, Sir, please believe me. It was just a question; I meant
nothing by it,” she smiled softly at him. Severus felt the deep twisting pangs of guilt in his
gut as he handed her the purple vial. She drank it quickly and laid down in bed, looking over
at him with droopy eyelids, “Thank you again, Professor Snape, Sir.”

Severus worked quickly once she was asleep. He knew what to expect this time around, and
had prepared far better than before. He removed the blood soaked bandages and piled them
on the floor. He cleaned the wounds and rubbed burn-healing cream over every visible injury.
Severus used his newly purchased bandages to completely wrap each burn.

A total of four dreamless-sleep potions were required to complete the process, and the clock
in the corner of the room struck ten by the time Severus had finished. With Amelia’s
bandages changed and the room cleaned, Severus left while she was still unconscious.

Severus’ feet dragged along the wooden floors as he headed to his bed chambers. He dropped
the crate of used supplies by the open laboratory door, unable to bring himself to fully unpack
and organize it all. He stood by his bedside, briefly debating if he should bathe once more
before slowly collapsing onto the mattress. He groaned and pulled a bottle from his pocket.
Severus rubbed his thumb across the smooth glass surface before uncorking it and downing
the purple liquid in loud desperate gulps. He was asleep before he could recork the vial.
 A Bath
Chapter Summary

I love this story so much :’) this story is my happy place

Moonlight shone through his foggy bedroom window as Severus stirred. Though it felt as if
he had shut his eyes mere moments ago, Severus knew many hours must have elapsed since
taking the potion of dreamless-sleep. Calloused palms rubbed his dry eyes as Severus stood
and walked blindly towards the water closet. Though not unfamiliar or unexpected, the
quality of sleep provided by the potion was unfailingly insubstantial.

Severus vacuously proceeded with his morning routine as his mind adjusted to being awake.
It wasn’t until he splashed cool water on his face did he recall all that had transpired
yesterday.

The rush of memories tightened his chest and quickened his pulse. Severus splashed a few
more handfuls of water to force himself into clarity, watching the water drip from his face
into his slowly draining sink as he took controlled breaths. The weight of guilt and
responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders. He completed the rest of his morning tasks
at a sluggish pace.

Once all duties were fulfilled, Severus dragged his feet into the kitchen and grabbed a large
ceramic mug from the cupboard above the sink. He filled it with water and lightly tapped his
wand against the rim while muttering a heating spell until steam began to rise. He plopped a
tea bag in and set it aside to steep while he went to check on Amelia.

He crept silently, peering around the corner inch by inch until he could get a slight glimpse
into the room. He restrained a heavy sigh of relief- the girl was asleep. He retreated
strategically, avoiding every notoriously creaky floorboard as he made his way back into the
kitchen.

Severus tapped his wand against the mug that had stopped steaming until it began to lightly
simmer. He hastily plucked the likely over steeped tea bag from the hot brew and tossed it
into the bin. With his wand still out, he wordlessly levitated two sugar cubes over and into the
tea, then stirred until dissolved.

Just as he did every morning, Severus took his tea outside to a small patio made from smooth
flat stones. He flicked his coat out and sat on a chilled wooden bench, still slightly damp with
the nights dew. He took in a deep breath of cold morning air warmed only by the steam rising
from his tea. An icy breeze rustled the flowering hedges and the beds overflowing with a
myriad of herbs, vegetables, and flowers.
The sky was still quite dark, mostly a black purple save for the lighter blue fading in from the
east as the sun began its slow ascent. The moon hid behind a handful of wispy clouds, and
Severus looked over his garden under the stars speckling the sky.

After a few sips of steaming hot tea, Severus rose to meander through the back garden with
his eyes to the ground. With all the chaos of yesterday, Severus had not been able to tend to
his plants; he saw more than a few weeds sprouting amongst his flowers and herbs. He
plucked them and tossed them into the compost bin.

After his exterior garden had been thoroughly inspected, Severus walked through the wet
dewy grass towards a tiny run down shed in the northwestern corner of the lawn. The blue
paint had bleached into a grey and peeled off in many places. The small windows lining the
walls were fully opaque with dust and pollen. With his wand tucked hidden in his coat sleeve,
Severus whispered the necessary words and the enchanted lock clicked open.

He dipped his head to enter the seemingly minuscule shed through the low door frame, but
immediately stood to his full height. The trivial shed opened up to a multistory greenhouse
with starlight pouring in from massive windows lining the walls and ceilings. In heavy
cement planters, tiny clay pots, and floating plods of earth grew every magical plant Severus
needed for his day-to-day potion making.

Here he could tend to his plants on a widespread scale without worrying about prying eyes.
Though Severus knew more than a handful of spells that could assist in managing his many
plants, it was a source of great comfort to tend to them by hand. So, as he did every morning,
Severus set out down the leftmost row of planters, a watering canister in one hand a still
warm cup of tea in the other.

Once each planter was devoid of weeds, fully watered or in some cases fed, Severus stepped
back outside. The rising sun had just peaked over the line of trees covering the eastern
horizon. The sky to the far west was still a dark twilight blue, handsomely contrasting the
widespread oranges and yellows of the ever-growing daylight. Severus treasured these
solitary moments each morning, comforted by the tranquility of everything before life began
to start around him.

He finished his cup of tea and did one last circle of the outside flower beds before the sun
began to fully rise and heat away the coolness of the morning. With no more tea and the
sounds of vehicles beginning to pass along the road in the distance, Severus retreated inside.

After washing his mug by hand and setting it out to dry, Severus set to writing a brief outline
of the day. He always found that structure and routine somewhat streamlined the mess in his
mind. After the chaos of yesterday and what was undoubtably more to come, a simple
schedule was sorely needed.

He sat in a large green armchair tucked into the corner of the living room lit by the morning
sun spilling in through a large oval window. His black feathered quill scratched hastily across
a spare bit of parchment, outlining all the tasks he expected himself to complete by the end of
the day.
He immediately crossed out the first item on the list, having only written it for the minute
sense of accomplishment gained from scratching it out. Now with everything on paper and in
order, the day seemed less tumultuous. He set the list and quill out on the least cluttered space
on the wooden coffee table before re-entering the kitchen.

---

Thankfully, Amelia had still been asleep when he had brought in a plate with breakfast. He
had left food along with fresh water and a few potions on the nearby stool, and slipped out
before she could wake. He had felt a pang of guilt at the momentous relief he gained in
avoiding conversation with her. She was a kind girl, but he found speaking with her quite
draining- as he did speaking with anyone.

His dragonhide boots squelched through the wet gravel as he strode up the hill leading into
town. The sky was still quite cloudy, blocking out most of the sun’s relentless summer rays.
Severus just hoped it wouldn’t begin to storm again, for he had no desire to repeat his
soaking wet shopping experience from the night before.

The tiny town had already begun to bustle with life as the day began. Cars zoomed past
Severus, flicking up dust and bits of loose gravel; the loud machines were one of the more
irritating aspects of living in a Muggle town. Some distant neighbors out raking leaves
paused their work to wave to Severus, and he gave a simple nod in reply.

Severus’ first stop was to the same apothecary as yesterday. They had thankfully restocked on
bandages, of which Severus purchased as much as possible. He also left with more antiseptics
and Muggle cleaning agents.

As he meandered through town, hoping for a second apothecary, Severus spotted a small
shop tucked away under the shade of towering flats, only visible by a sign jutting out from
above the door way. Old wooden hinges creaked from a gust of wind as Severus neared to the
read the words etched into aging wood: ‘M & M’s Herbal Remedies’. The door creaked even
louder than the sign when he entered, and a tiny bell above his head jingled.

“Welcome in, dear!” An all too familiar voice called from across the shop’s small interior.
Severus raised his eyebrows in surprise when he spotted his life long neighbor, Margery,
standing behind the till with a wave and a smile.

Margery was a tiny woman, and had only seemed to shrink with age; Severus’ height didn’t
help the matter and she had to crane her neck as he approached. She wore a wide brimmed
hat that flopped over to one side with the weight of a single sunflower. She wore a pink dress
that had accents of yellow from where the sunflower had dusted her thin shoulders with
petals.

“Good morning, Margery,” Severus greeted shortly as his eyes explored the single-room
shop. The already small room was practically overflowing with flora. Various dried herbs and
flowers hung in bushels along the ceiling and each wall was lined with shelves containing a
myriad of bottles, ointments, soaps, and concoctions. The center of the room held large
wooden barrels that were bursting with fresh flowers and plants.
“It is a good morning, isn’t it dear,” Margery smiled, “Were you looking for anything
specific?”

“No.”

“Well, feel free to take a look around! I’ve signs for everything, but I’m here if you have
questions of course.”

Severus spotted fresh dittany in one of the center barrels and tied small handfuls together
with a string of twine set nearby. Next to the pile of twine was a leather bound book open to a
page about the beneficial uses of sunflowers, though Severus had little use for it. His years of
potion making had taught him much about effects of herbs and flowers. After one trip around
the barrels, Severus’ arms were soon filled with bushels of dittany, stalks of aloe, and a
bouquet filled with Marigolds, Chamomile, Lavender, and Coneflower.

“Did you end up catching that cold I warned you about, dear?” Margery asked as Severus
browsed a wall of natural salves and soaps. Severus glanced down over his shoulder with a
scowl.

“No,” he said plainly. He knew from experience that if he invited in conversation with
Margery he would be cornered in here for hours.

“Dittany, Echinacea, Marigolds… they’re all wonderful for treating ailments,” Margery
smiled.

“I suppose so.”

“They also make a beautiful bouquet, perhaps for a lucky lady?” Margery asked. Severus
frowned and turned, expecting to see Margery’s usual smile, but he instead found a knowing
stare. His heart skipped a beat, wondering if she had somehow seen Amelia the night he had
arrived with her.

“No.” Severus frowned intensely.

“It’s hard finding love these days,” Margery nodded with her usual smile as if nothing had
changed, “You know, Sammy tells me dating is quite difficult now! Why, in my day…”

Severus sighed and tuned out her prattling, only responding with a nod or a curt single word
reply when absolutely necessary. He grabbed some lotion and was eyeing the handmade
salves when Margery popped her head into view.

“Is that a yes, dear?”

“Yes to what?”

“My new lotion! It’s aloe based with some wonderful healing herbs. Perfect for burns,” she
said with the unnerving knowing gleam in her eye. Severus shifted uncomfortably before her
regular smile quickly returned, “This summer sun can be quite angry when he makes his
appearance! Though yesterday we had quite the little storm, didn’t we?”
“Yes, I suppose so…” Severus frowned. He could easily cast legilimens on her to discover
what she actually knew, but Severus decided against it. He had known Margery since
childhood; the woman had shown him kindness when none was warranted and still continued
to do so. She deserved the privacy of her own mind.

“One or two of the burn cream, dear?”

“Two.”

“Getting lots of sun this summer, hm?” She asked with a squeaky giggle followed by a short
snort.

“I’m ready to pay, now, Margery,” Severus sighed, already fatigued by her energy.

“Oh, alright, dear. Come up to the till and let me wrap your things.”

Margery handled each herb and flower with delicate shaky fingers, wrapping the plants in
brown paper and tying them tight with twine. She worked carefully, not disturbing a single
petal as she wrapped and rang up each item.

Severus paid in Muggle currency before grabbing his goods and attempting to make a hasty
exit. As anticipated, Margery’s wavery voice called across the room.

“You really should come over for tea and biscuits, dear! Like you used to…” she said. Her
voice trailed off as Severus stepped outside. He glanced over his shoulder at the older woman
who was waving to him. This far out the door he doubted she would even hear any reply, and
so simply gave her a nod and let the door close behind him.

Severus walked down the paved walkway with his head down, mentally reviewing the
evening he had brought Amelia to Spinners End. The night had been dark and stormy, his
portkey left him in the woods behind the greenhouse so it was only a short walk to the back
door. Margery’s pointed comments and knowing smile replayed in his mind.

Severus’ nose caught the smell of battered fish and fried chips carried by a strong breeze, and
he soon found himself walking headlong to his favorite Muggle pub. He could remember
begging his mother to eat here on special occasions, though it was only ever allowed in the
secrecy of his father.

Severus walked until he saw the familiar hanging sign of a large fish, characteristically askew
as the long since broken chain dangled in the wind. Severus had been meaning to cast a repair
spell for years, though the place was always too busy to do so.

Severus stepped inside the already packed restaurant. Though loud crowded environments
usually induced senses of dread or discomfort, the familiarity here was quite reassuring.

“The normal, Sevs?” The older gentleman at the till called out before Severus had even
stepped into line. Severus mentally cringed at the title, though he had given up on trying to
correct the childhood nickname. He held up two fingers above the crowd.
“Two orders? Tryna finally put some meat on those bones, aye?” The old man joked over his
shoulder, much to the amusement of the line cooks. Severus ignored the jibe, but the old
owner wasn’t losing steam, “Lovely flowers there, Sevs, wonder who the lucky lady is?”

“-Or unlucky,” one of the cooks chuckled.

“You’re all assuming it’s a girl?” another cook followed up causing the owner to pause his
work with laughter.

Severus tucked the flowers under his coat and slipped into an unoccupied chair in the corner.
He looked out the window to avoid the suffocating atmosphere of the restaurant, and
strategized the rest of his day.

“Here ya go, Sevs, see you next week, aye?”

“I make no guarantees,” Severus snapped, and quickly snatched the plastic bag filled with
food. The man chuckled, his usual response to Severus’ shortness of speech.

Chatter from the pub echoed through the lines of flats and shops until it was drowned out
amongst the rabble of the town. Severus paced through smooth cobbled bricks, to rough
gravel, and eventually down the dirt path that led to his front door.

---

Once all his purchases were stored properly, Severus checked off the completed tasks from
the scrap of parchment in the living area, enjoying the fleeting sensation of accomplishment.
He then turned to the next item on the list- lunch.

He grabbed the thin clear bag from the kitchen and removed the still hot styrofoam containers
along with two plastic bags containing utensils and a napkin. It seemed everything in the
Muggle world was plastic.

After checking that Amelia was indeed awake, he entered with her portion and a few potion
bottles tucked away in his cloak. He entered swiftly and removed the empty plate sitting on
the stool near her bedside before replacing it with the closed styrofoam container.

“Good morning, Master- er- Professor Snape, Sir!” Amelia smiled cheerfully, “I want to
thank you for the meal you left; It was delicious!”

Severus found it difficult to share in her cheer. He could see that her previously sterile
bandages had become saturated with stark reds and muted browns, and the sheets
surrounding her small frame were equally as sullied. The air permeated a foul stench of burnt
flesh that made Severus’ stomach churn. He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat
that accompanied the flash of memories unwillingly replaying in his mind, not keen on
reliving things that he’d sooner rather forget.

“Of course. Enjoy your lunch,” Severus said curtly. He turned on his heels and slipped out the
door before mentally cursing himself halfway down the hallway. He had forgotten to leave
her the potions. With slumped shoulders, he slowly slipped back inside.
He found Amelia’s face contorted in pain as she hung off the side of the bed, struggling to
reach half her meal that had fallen to the floor. Severus dashed across the room, cloak
flittering behind him. He grabbed her left arm and pulled her back into a sitting position,
ignoring the small gasp and moment of surprise at his sudden reappearance.

“Amelia! If you need assistance with something you must call for me!” He chided, looking at
the fresh beads of red staining her already disgusting bandages.

“Yes, Professor Snape, Sir, of course!” Amelia smiled back, equally jovial as before, save for
her slightly wide eyes and tense grip on the blanket pulled close to her chin.

“Drink,” he ordered as he pulled several golden potions from an inside pocket in his cloak.

“Thank you, Professor Snape, Sir,” Amelia said with a practiced smile. The only hint to what
Severus knew had to be unimaginable pain was the uncontrolled tremor in her fingers as she
struggled momentarily with the cork.

Severus stooped to pick up the fish and handful of chips that had landed on the floor and
tossed them back into the container. He waved his fingers and muttered a quick cleaning spell
before standing, finding Amelia’s eyes already fixed on him.

As he turned towards the door with the flimsy and torn styrofoam container in hand, Amelia
called out, “I’m very sorry for dropping the food, Professor Snape, Sir!”

Severus had little to say to her unnecessary apology, and so gave a single nod with his back
still turned. Once his fingers touched the door knob she called out in earnest this time, “It
won’t happen again, Professor Snape, Sir! I swear!”

Severus sighed deeply. He didn’t want to turn and face her, but he could guess as to her
expressions of fear and panic. He pictured her usual cheerful smile replaced by a worried
frown.

“I will return shortly, Amelia.” Severus explained, wanting to reassure her that he wasn’t
intending on letting her go hungry.

He paced down the hall and into the kitchen where he set the broken and leaking container of
food on the counter before grabbing a plate. He opened the box with what had originally been
his lunch and transferred the food neatly to the sturdy plate.

Severus reentered the room to find Amelia staring at the plate of food with slightly wide eyes
and mouth opened to the smallest ‘o’. He set the food directly on her lap this time and handed
her a clean fork. Amelia stared at the meal for a brief moment before snapping her neck to
look up at him with a radiant smile.

“Thank you so much, Professor Snape, Sir!!”

“Of course,” Severus said stiffly. She didn’t move to touch her food, instead staring at him
with rapt attention. Her intense gaze tightened his chest, and he swallowed hard as he
struggled to maintain eye contact. He thought a bit of humor may lighten her spirits, “Next
time be more careful.”

He had intended the sarcastic comment as a jab at the routinely fallible Muggle inventions,
but it clearly did not have the desired effect. Amelia’s eyes widened slightly once more and
she nodded rapidly.

“Yes, M- Professor Snape, Sir! Of course! I’ll be much more careful! Thank you for giving
me a second chance today, Sir.”

Severus groaned and inwardly slapped a palm to his forehead. He nodded as he struggled to
find the words to assure her he had no intentions on starving her, “I’m sure you will.”

He could tell the words held little of the meaning he wanted them too, so quickly added,
“Eat.”

She picked up the fork with her left hand, holding it crudely in a balled fist, but it picked up a
chunk of fish effectively enough.

Amelia finished the bite and gave him another smile that sent daggers through his chest,
“Thank you again, Professor Snape, Sir! I know once I’m well enough I will do everything to
make up for your kindness.”

“Of course,” Severus said again, though this time with a tired sigh.

“Will you need any assistance today, Professor Snape, Sir?”

“Amelia,” Severus sighed and his hand fell from the doorhandle, “You need to rest. Eat and
try to get some sleep. I’ll return later to change your bandages.”

“Yes, Professor Snape, Sir,” Amelia smiled, “And thank you again for your kindness, Sir!”

Severus could say nothing to such a ridiculous statement. Kindness. She knew nothing of the
word if she thought Severus to be an example of it. He ate his lunch in the green armchair
with the curtains drawn.

---

The squib’s wound cleaning had been disastrous. He had used almost ten potions of pain
relief as Amelia insisted upon being awake. However, after running out of the golden vials he
had to resort to dreamless sleep, and finished the work in silence.

Even his magic, though it could remove the stains and clean the rags, could not rid the room
of the clear stench of blood and rot. He would need to clean it with soap, or at least enchant
his mop to do so, but more importantly- Amelia needed a bath.

He had tried to find a solution to that problem during the hours locked away in his laboratory,
though after dozens of purple and gold vials were bottled and stored, he had found the
situation entirely unavoidable.
Her condition was too critical to delay the wash any further, but her body was far too weak to
do so independently. She would despise him for it. She already distrusted him during the
wound changing where most of her body was still covered by bandages or blankets. He knew
she would not be agreeable to the idea of letting him bathe her.

Severus paced back and forth near the hallway leading to her room, mentally rehearsing a
script of how to explain the situation. Though he sounded convincing in his mind, Severus
knew that his words would almost certainly not come out as intended.

With it already getting late, Severus steeled his mounting nerves with a controlled breath
before approaching the storage room door. He knocked quietly to alert her of his presence
before entering, his heart almost beating out of his chest.

While mentally repeating his prepared script, Severus pushed passed the cracked door and
stood fully in the room. With his mind focused on his words, he could barely meet her gaze,
but could sense her stare. He managed a glance up and frowned at her odd position.

The blanket, which she usually had pulled up to her neck, was now folded over unnaturally
with her arms resting solidly on top. She stared intently at him with wide eyes.

“What are hiding?” He asked with a frown, stepping towards the bed. Amelia swallowed and
pulled the folded blanket closer towards her chest, all but giving away the location of
whatever she was hiding.

Severus sighed and closed the distance, snatching the blanket out from between her frail arms
with ease. He unrolled the portion she had hidden to reveal an unnatural golden and
shimmery stain. She must have spilled one of the potions of pain-relief at some point.

Amelia’s green eyes widened even further as they darted between the mess and Severus. Her
chest rose and fell more noticeably, though her demeanor was still controlled.

Severus barely needed to think of the appropriate cleaning spell and reached for his wand
instinctively- though he immediately regretted it. Just as she had done the previous day,
Amelia let out a gasp and cowered into the corner of the headboard. Severus sighed at his
blunder but committed to the spell and whisked the mess away with a slight wave of his
wand.

“I’m so sorry, Professor Snape, Sir!” Amelia said earnestly, though her voice was still
measured, “It was a silly mistake, Sir; I promise to be much more careful!”

“Amelia,” Severus sighed deeply. He sought for the words to console the poor girl who was
obviously used to the severe hand of Lucius’ rule. Though Severus was well aware that he
would sooner become a squib himself than commit the same atrocities his fellow wizard had,
he struggled to formulate the reassurance into spoken word. Along with being historically
inept at consoling distraught young women, Severus knew that he was little better than his
prior dark associate.

“I’m already beginning to feel much stronger as well, Master- Professor Snape, Sir!” Amelia
continued as Severus put a hand to his temple, “Im sure with a good nights rest I’ll be feeling
much more myself. I’ll be able to help with cleaning, and-“

“Amelia,” Severus cut off her words that had begun to run together. He was surprised when
she didn’t seem to notice his intent and continued with her speech.

“-and I’m quite excellent in the kitchen! Mister Malfoy always preferred my tea to the other
Squibs; and-“

“Amelia!” Severus snapped, causing Amelia’s jaw to quite literally snap shut, “You need a
bath.”

“Oh,” Amelia said with a blank expression. The two stared in silence for a moment before
Amelia looked down towards her bandaged chest and repeated in barely a whisper, “Oh.”

“Move the blanket and I’ll help you to the tub,” Severus instructed. Amelia only tightened a
fist into the blanket wrapped around her.

“Like I said before, Professor Snape, Sir, I really am already feeling much stronger,” Amelia
said with a smile, flipping a switch into her pleasant and calm act.

“Are you now? Well then, go ahead,” Severus said and stepped aside, gesturing towards the
door. Amelia flashed him a smile that quickly faded as she sat up. Her bandages were red and
brown with a mixture of fresh and dried blood, and as she pulled the blanket back it revealed
a mattress stained crimson.

“If you could just direct me to the wash room, I’m sure I can manage on my own, Professor
Snape, Sir.”

“I will guide you once we’re in the hall.”

Amelia nodded, now seeming to understand his intentions and took a deep breath. With one
arm bracing her against the wall, she used the other to swing her legs over the side of the bed.
Fresh blood seeped into the bandages, and Amelia inhaled sharply between clenched teeth.

Though Severus took no enjoyment in watching the poor girl struggle, he knew he would
enjoy arguing with her far less. Letting her try and fail would be a far more effective method
of getting her to accept his help.

Amelia had managed to get towards the edge of the bed with both feet on the hardwood floor.
She took steady deep breaths, eyebrows furrowed slightly and jaw set firm. She leaned back
slightly before rocking forward with enough momentum to help propel herself to her feet.
She stood for about one or two seconds before collapsing forward.

Severus, who had already anticipated this outcome, was there in an instant. With arms
outstretched he easily caught her before her knees could hit the ground. Her hands clutched at
the cloak around his shoulders as she now struggled to even stand. Severus wrapped one arm
around her back and helped her into an upright position.

“I- I-“ Amelia stuttered, her calm smile struggling to mask what Severus knew had to be fear
or pain, “I can do this!”
“You can,” Severus agreed, “With my help.”

Amelia let out a short sigh, and Severus glanced down with raised eyebrows. She was polite
but far more willful than any Squib he had met in the past, and her tiny outbursts gave insight
as to why Malfoy had such negative things to say about her.

“Or I could let your wounds fester and turn deadly if that’s how you’d prefer I treat you,”
Severus said. His voice was quiet, but he spoke pointedly.

“Not at all, Professor Snape, Sir! I am more than grateful for the kindness you’ve shown me,”
Amelia said.

“Good. Once in the other room I’ll help you out of the bandages and help you bathe. I
promise to be gentle-“

“-No!”

The word hung in the air for moments as Severus and Amelia locked eyes with a shared
expression of utter disbelief. Amelia’s breathing became erratic and her jaw hung open at the
shock of her defiance. Severus’ eyebrows shot up and eyes widened, equally taken aback at
the squib’s blatant disrespect.

“I will help you into the bath. I will help you out of the bandages. And I will help you bathe,”
Severus said with a controlled tone.

Amelia struggled to regain her usually collected composure. Her breathing came sporadically
and she nodded rapidly, though no sound came for some moments.

“Yes,” she said, though the word sounded almost strangled, “Yes, Master. O-Of course, Ma-
Professor Snape, Sir. I- I-“

“Are you able to walk?”

“Yes, Professor Snape, Sir,” Amelia said quietly, now looking down with a quiet sigh.

With one arm helping her stand, Severus tried to guide Amelia towards the door, but he soon
encountered an unforeseen difficulty. Amelia was quite a short girl, and Severus was by no
means a short man. He had to bend over at quite an awkward angle to wrap his arm around
her shoulders, and she was struggling to even move her legs as they neared the door.

“I’m going to carry you,” Severus warned her. Amelia’s head whipped up to face him and her
mouth immediately snapped open with a likely protest, “I will not argue this, Amelia.”

Her jaw snapped shut, and she nodded wordlessly. Severus kept his arm wrapped under her
shoulders and behind her back as he hooked the other underneath her knees.

Just as when he had brought her home from the Malfoy Manor, he found Amelia light and
easy to carry. Unlike the previous time she had been in his arms, limp and unconscious,
Amelia now attempted to sit straight and she leaned as far away from him as possible.
---

Amelia’s head whipped in every direction as her Master carried her out of the room and into
his home. The furniture looked dark and dusty, and she could only see a few small rooms as
they walked. Amelia wondered if this was actually Master Snape’s home at all. Perhaps he
had a separate building just for Squibs.

The wash room was cramped, with a large tub taking up half the room and a storage cabinet
lining the other wall. Master Snape set her on the edge of the tub, and she had to hold onto
his arms to maintain balance.

She sorely wished she had not spilled that golden potion Master Snape had made for her.
However brief it lasted, the complete absence of pain was nothing short of miraculous. As he
began to peel off her bandages and with it layers of scab and skin, she could only grit her
teeth through the pain.

Today had been spectacularly disastrous. Back at Malfoy Manor Amelia had a reputation for
being defiant, and had enough scars to prove it. Mister Malfoy had been strict and treated
every minor mistake with severity.

Amelia wasn’t sure what she had expected from her new Master, but it certainly hadn’t been
this. He was calm, quiet, and incredibly kind. She had her own room to recover in, and
recover she was with his help! He must have spent hours of his time on her, not to mention
the delicious meals.

Any squib would be a fool to get on the bad side of a Master like Master Snape, but Amelia
was managing to do it somehow. She routinely forgot to follow his order of his preferred title,
and had continually disrespected him. She’d carelessly dropped the warm meal and the
miracle potion all within the span of a few hours.

On top of those stupid mistakes, she had plain as day defied him! Openly told him no! She
was such a useless idiotic squib! Master Snape had shown her nothing but kindness and she
was making it seem like she didn’t care.

She clenched her teeth as he slowly removed a stretch of bandage on her upper thigh that had
been connected to a particularly long scab. Tears sprung into her eyes as she watched the
blood drain from the now open wounds. It was becoming increasingly difficult to sit up
properly.

Her heart soared at the flash of gold Master Snape produced after digging in his coat pocket.

“Drink this,” he ordered, and Amelia desperately wanted to obey. If willpower alone was
enough to sit up, she would easily do so, but her muscles were trembling and weak. If she
were to let go of her grip on his arms, even for a moment, she worried she may just topple
right over into him.

“Amelia,” he sighed, clearly annoyed with her lack of obedience. She mentally winced as she
added this to the list of mistakes she made today. She shifted her weight into her left arm and
locked it in place before grabbing the potion with her bandaged right. She tried to lift the
potion to her teeth to remove the cork, but either the bandages, scabs, or strained muscles
only got her halfway.

“Amelia, do you need assistance?” Master Snape asked. He sounded quite bothered. Her
heart raced but she gave him a reassuring smile.

“I’m alright, Professor Snape, Sir,” Amelia smiled. She bit down on her tongue as she
strained to pull her arm up to her mouth. She had just uncorked the bottle with her teeth when
her left arm gave out in an instant. Amelia fell forward unwillingly, straight into Master
Snape’s chest.

Her open wounds rubbed against his clothes as she fell, causing her to let out a cry which she
quickly stifled. She thankfully had used her thumb to stop up the potion, knowing how
disastrous it would have been to spill two in one day. Though she tried, her body had not
enough strength to sit up.

Master Snape hooked his arm behind her back and under her knees, cradling her with just one
arm. He dug in his coat for something before sighing and pointing his finger out the door.

“Accio chair,” he said, and after a few sounds of banging and scraping, a chair appeared in
the room. He sat her down in the chair, which thankfully had arm rests Amelia could brace
herself against.

“Drink the potion,” Master Snape ordered again, and Amelia downed the golden liquid
without a second thought.

In an instant, every bit of pain disappeared. It was truly magical, and she closed her eyes to
enjoy the feeling. She had almost dozed off when she felt Master Snape’s hand on her chest.
Her eyes shot open and she watched as he carefully undid the bandages there.

Eventually, Amelia sat naked in the chair, with a pile of red bandages and her old tattered
dress in a heap next to her. Master Snape said nothing as he tested the water pouring from the
tap.

Amelia crossed her legs and wrapped her arms around her breasts as she watched him prepare
the bath. He set soap and a wash rag on the ledge of the tub, and tested the water with his
finger once more. He pulled two vials of golden liquid out from his coat and set one by the
soap and the other he uncorked and handed to her. She drank without him needing to speak.

“If I set you in the tub, will you be able to bathe yourself properly?” Master Snape asked. He
was so difficult to read, and it was hard to tell if this was some kind of test. Amelia looked
between him and the water, knowing that test or not she wouldn’t want to pass on the
potential opportunity for privacy.

“Absolutely, Professor Snape, Sir!” She nodded with a smile.

“Very well,” he sighed. He turned the faucet off and wrapped his arms around her shoulders
and under her knees once more. Amelia watched his eyes, but never once saw them drift
down. He set her in the tub and stood.
“I will wait outside the door. Once you’re finished, call for me and I will help you out.”

“Thank you so much, Professor Snape, Sir!!” Amelia smiled wide. He gave a single silent
nod before exiting with a swoosh of his cloak.

Now alone, Amelia let her arms drop. Master Snape must have thought ahead as the water
was not too hot, in fact it was barely warm. The cool water felt wonderful on her burns. Still
struggling to sit, she used both arms to brace herself upright.

Amelia reached for the soap with her good arm, wishing that Master Snape hadn’t placed it
on the right side, as she had to twist uncomfortably to reach it. The tub she had been placed
in was quite large and was very obviously designed for an adult male almost twice her size.
As she turned to grab the soap, her mangled right arm slipped along the porcelain. Before her
body could react, Amelia slid lengthwise down the basin of the tub.

Her good arm grabbed at the edge of the tub, but could not find purchase, and she quickly
found herself completely submerged underwater. Her wet hand slipped along the porcelain
rim several times before finally gripping hard. She pulled with all her strength, but could only
raise herself to just under the water’s surface. In a desperate attempt to sit up, Amelia tried
pressing her feet to the other end of the tub, only to find that her toes just barely grazed the
wall.

With her face just inches below the surface, Amelia used all the strength she had left to pull
up with her good arm. She stretched her legs as far out as she could, trying desperately to
reach the wall of the tub, but to no avail. Her chest began to burn fiercely, somehow
drowning out the pain of the burns. She needed air, ached for it, would beg for it. As her
vision darkened under the water, Amelia, for the first time in many years, allowed herself to
cry for help. She watched as the last of her air bubbled up to the surface, her screams lost
under the water.

---

Severus paced with stiff shoulders outside the door, wondering if it would be best to make
himself busy by cleaning the rancid smell from the storage closet. He could hear some
splashing from the behind door and he sighed shortly, running a hand through his hair. The
other room needed cleaning and there was still the matter of making dinner.

If he stood here the entire time, she would have to wait in cold water or in an empty tub while
he cleaned the other room. He was hesitant to leave in case she called for him, but it would
take only a few moments to enchant a mop and bucket of soap water to do the cleaning for
him.

He had almost all but decided on leaving when he noticed something strange- silence.
Severus frowned and stepped closer to the door. He should hear splashing, scrubbing, or
something, but instead he heard nothing at all coming from the other side.

“Amelia?” He called, hesitant to enter in a rush and ruin what little trust she had in him. No
answer came to his call, and his worry spiked sharply.
“Amelia!?” He yelled through the closed door.

Silence.

Severus opened the door in an instant, almost sending the doorknob through the back wall
with how hard he flung it open. He rushed in to find Amelia fully underwater. Severus was
by her side in an instant, pulling her out of the water and sitting her upright, though she lolled
limply to the side.

He grabbed his wand and carefully pulled the water from her lungs. As most of the water
floated in the air, Amelia began to cough up the rest, taking loud ragging breaths as she
sputtered. Her hands weakly grabbed at the side of the tub as she began to slip once more.
Severus wrapped an arm around her shoulder to keep her steady.

“What in Merlin’s name happened!? I stepped out for five minutes!” Severus chided over her
loud coughing, “If you were unable to sit independently you should have told me!

“You could have died! What were you thinking, Squib!?”

Severus was angry. This bath was a serious miscalculation; she clearly was not physically
ready for it. He should never have suggested on her bathing without his assistance. He was a
fool to think she would have refused a chance at privacy, even at the risk to her own safety.

“I’m sorry!” Amelia cried out in a raw voice, either tears or just beads of water from her wet
hair dripped down her cheeks, “I’m- I’m so sorry! Please- please don’t-“

“Merlin, Amelia, I’m not going to hurt you for nearly drowning yourself,” Severus snapped
defensively.

“Please don’t send me back,” she whispered, unable to sit fully without clinging onto his
arms. Her hands were small and bony, and the burns were bleeding into his sleeve. She sat
naked and shivering, staring up at him just inches away with the most blatant expression of
fear he had seen on her yet.

“Amelia…” Severus said, swallowing down the hitch in his throat, “I- it’s… it’s alright.”

Her bottom lip trembled and Severus desperately hoped she wouldn’t cry. He hadn’t realized
until this moment how dependent he was on her composed nature. Her face of fear brought
up too many horrible memories he struggled to ignore.

“I won’t send you away. I won’t hurt you,” Severus said stiffly.

“I’m sorry for my behavior today, Professor Snape, Sir, I promise that-“

“Amelia-“

“That I-“

“Enough!” Severus snapped. He could see a young squib covered in blood between his boots,
bony fingers gripping at his cloak begging for her life. He could see green flash from his
wand.

“Enough!” He croaked, eyes shut. His heart beat out of control and he struggled to swallow
down the lump in his throat. Screaming filled his ears and he had to take many deep breaths
before they subsided. Once the screams were gone, there was complete silence.

He opened his eyes once more to find Amelia staring right at him, though this time her
expression was blank. He took another deep breath, but let it out in an uncontrolled sigh. He
was a monster.

“I’m going to bathe you,” he said quietly. Amelia nodded silently, still holding onto him with
trembling fingers. Severus grabbed the soap and took one of her hands in his. She began to
slip once more and he sighed, holding her upright once more.

“I need to use my wand,” he warned her. Amelia’s eyes widened, but she nodded. He quickly
Accio-ed a towel and placed it in the tub length wide underneath her. Thankfully this worked,
giving her legs more purchase and Amelia sat up without his help.

“Drink the potion,” he suggested, voice quiet with fatigue.

“Yes, Professor Snape, Sir,” Amelia said with her practiced smile and downed the vial sitting
on the edge of the tub.

Severus got to work immediately, starting with her left arm. He purposefully held her arm at
an angle so he couldn’t see the Brand etched into her wrist. He washed in gentle circles, not
wanting to agitate the burns, but still needing to get her clean.

“So, Professor Snape, Sir, what do you teach?” Amelia asked in a would be cheerful tone if
not for the shaky sigh at the end. Severus guessed she was either exhausted like he was or
still afraid from earlier. Perhaps both.

“This is not the time for small talk, Amelia,” Severus said. He couldn’t imagine trying to
carry a conversation while this tired. With her left arm clean he carried onto the more injured
areas of her body. He washed gently, watching her for any signs of pain, but she gave none.

With her arms clean, Severus moved to her legs, gently lifting each one at a time out of the
water and washing away any debris. Eventually, her extremities and back were cleaned,
leaving only her chest and stomach.

Severus swallowed and held in a sigh. Her arms had been wrapped around her chest from the
moment he had taken the bandages off, and he knew she wouldn’t want him to clean there.
He paused before thinking of a way to take her mind off the matter.

“I teach Potions,” he said softly as he began to clean her shoulders and nape. He found a
circular ring of scars and fresh scratches underneath the heavy metal collar around her neck.

“It’s no wonder; your potions are absolutely wonderful, Professor Snape, Sir,” Amelia said,
looking up at him with an appreciative smile and. Her eyes closed as he began to clean lower,
“What school do you teach at, Sir?”
“Hogwarts.”

“Oh, Hogwarts! I believe Mister Draco will be going there in the fall.”

“He will be.”

“Will he learn Potions from you, Professor Snape, Sir?”

“He will.”

“He’s a lucky student, then, to learn from you,” Amelia said with conviction, “And I’m sure I
can be of help in the classroom too! With cleaning and such!”

Severus swallowed hard, unable to tell her he had no intention of keeping her enslaved to him
once the term began. She would have a better life once rid of him. The cleaning was done,
and the water had long turned red and cold. Amelia covered herself the best she could as
Severus patted her dry with his softest towel.

He gave her another potion of pain relief while he rewrapped her bandages. Try as she may to
sit independently in the chair as before, her body was clearly too weak, and her arms were
unable to brace against the sides of the chair as before. Severus kept one arm wrapped
securely around her waist as he deftly bandaged her wounds.

“I won’t put you back in those rags,” Severus said, “Though… I don’t have many clothes that
will fit you.”

“Oh… I see,” Amelia whispered and Severus quickly corrected himself.

“That’s not what’s I meant. Here, come and pick something to wear for yourself.”

Severus picked her up gently, grateful the bandages weren’t already soaked with blood. The
magical salves that should have work immediately were at least having some healing effect.
Either from trust or exhaustion, Amelia rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her to
his closet, a stark contrast to their prior walk to the bathroom.

His wardrobe was ashamedly simple. He wore practically the same outfit on repeat, with
differences so minute most wouldn’t notice a change. He had a row of black coats, black
pants, and white shirts.

“Which would you like?”

Amelia looked up at him with wide eyes and slightly gaping mouth, eyes darting between
him and his clothes.

“I- I- I can’t wear your clothes, Master-“ Amelia let out a tired sigh, “Professor. I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright, Amelia,” Severus said as gently as he could. He grabbed one of his long cloaks
and wrapped it around her, “I think it’s time for bed.”
“Yessir, I think so too,” she chuckled weakly as she pulled the cloak up to her chin, “Thank
you, Professor Snape, Sir.”

Severus paused momentarily before set off towards her makeshift bedroom. He glanced down
to find her head resting on his chest, eyes closed and slightly squeezed together in pain.

“Don’t thank me just yet.”

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