"Sir..." Harry cleared his throat, recognizing not only that Snape was rambling, but that he'd been doing so earlier, too, when he'd spoken of Lubaantum. The man's behavior began to make more sense. "Perhaps you should have an early night, after all?"
"No, I want to finish this," Snape insisted, wiping a hand across his weary eyes. "Where was I? Oh, yes. The next time the Mark flared, I decided that Draco might benefit from getting a good look at what Voldemort does to his followers."
Snape was rolling up his sleeve by then, turning back the fabric in neat, methodical folds to bare a large expanse of bandage on his forearm. It looked just like a Muggle wound dressing to Harry, except for the lack of any tape.
As Snape began to peel the dressing back, Harry cried out, "You don't have to show me, Professor! I believe you!"
"It never occurred to me that you didn't," Snape calmly returned. "But now that you know, there is no reason why you should not see."
Beneath the bandage was an expanse of... well, the best Harry could do was liken it to raw meat.
Snape flipped the bandage back down and unrolled his sleeve, neatly buttoning his cuff as he spoke. "As for last night, Harry. I simply didn't hear your knock. You didn't assume the worst, I trust?"
By then, Harry was ashamed he'd doubted the man. "I thought you must have gone out," he exaggerated. Snape probably knew it was a bit of misdirection, but he didn't comment on it. "You were just asleep, then?"
"More like comatose," Snape admitted. "Even now, I'm still not quite my normal self. And for that you may blame Draco. While my back was turned, he laced my herbal tea with an overdose of the Painless Sleep I make for you."
"But mine's made five times normal strength!" Harry gasped. "Oh, dear. That's a bad mistake for him to make."
"It was no mistake, I quite assure you," Snape drawled. "The young man had seen how worn out I was after hours in pain, had realized that a direct assault on the Mark entails a magical drain besides. Undisturbed sleep is actually the best treatment. He meant well."
"Yeah, but what if he'd accidentally given you enough to do you harm?"
Snape gave him a look. "I assure you, I would have taken a purgative at once."
Harry gaped a bit. "You knew at the time?"
Snape softly snorted. "I am a Potions Master, after all." He tapped the side of his nose. "Not much gets past this."
"I guess not," Harry murmured. "I'm surprised you drank it in that case."
"In retrospect, I see I should have gone to speak with you first." Snape briefly hung his head in his hands, then sat up again, his dark eyes seeking out Harry's gaze. "I must ask your forgiveness, I think. It is no excuse... but by then I had been in agony for some hours. Looking back, I can only think I was not quite in my right mind."
"It's all right." Harry drew in a breath. "Caffeine must be an antidote to the Potion, huh? I thought it was weird this morning, you drinking all that coffee. Why not just use some Pepper-Up, though?"
"I did use some," Snape told him. "I needed all my faculties for the Order meeting, after all. Caffeine helps the effects of Pepper-Up last a good while longer, hence the coffee."
"But it's all worn off now," Harry noted, frowning. "Maybe you should take some more?"
Snape shrugged. "I believe I told you once that Potions aren't the solution for everything. At this point I merely need more rest. Natural rest would be best, I do believe. One would think I'd be more used to the process of dealing with the Dark Mark by now. I have done it several times."
"I don't remember you ever locking the door before, though," Harry pointed out.
"You're just not often up and about at the late hour when the pain usually strikes. I would use a charm to silently summon Draco, and leave you to sleep."
That made sense. "How come you wait until the pain strikes to cut it off, though?" Harry had to wonder. "It seems like you could avoid feeling Voldemort's call completely if you... er, sliced the Mark off as soon as it started to show at all?"
Snape sighed. "A reasonable supposition. However, there are other matters to consider." Another sigh, this one a long, tired one. "It's quite a literal matter that a curse scar cannot be destroyed, Harry. The flesh that's taken off me will not decay, and since Voldemort's magic is inside it, it is not something I can merely leave for the house-elves to sweep away. Nor can I allow it to sit out unprotected. Without a physical connection to my own magic, the spells forming it could become unstable and begin to permeate the air and building around us. To counter this problem, Draco was helping me renew the stasis Potion I have been using for... storage. We did that first. By late afternoon we had proceeded to deal with the Mark itself."
"Oh God," Harry thickly groaned, imagining all those hours with the Mark burning... no wonder Snape had succumbed to the lure of being comatose for a while. No wonder, even, that he had needed help in the lab. "What did you do in Devon, sir? You said you first cut it off your arm, there? You didn't have a stasis Potion ready to receive it, did you?"
"No such Potion existed, not then. This has been trial and error." Snape looked a bit grim. "Back in Devon, Albus took the Mark away with him after he came bringing supplies for you. We had high hopes that perhaps we could confound Voldemort should he attempt to track me through the Mark. All we accomplished, however, was to spill dark magic inside Hogwarts. Hence the urgent need for a stasis Potion."
"You're really good at what you do," Harry admitted, a little bit in awe. "And you're really brave."
Snape frowned, but didn't say anything.
When Harry glanced at Snape's sleeve, he almost fancied he could see through fabric and bandage to the bloody flesh beneath. "I have to hurry up and kill that son of a bitch," he realized. "Because until I do, you'll keep on doing this to yourself."
The frown reached the man's eyes. "Why do you think I kept it from you, Harry? You have long had more worries than anyone your age should. This problem is mine."
"Yeah, but I could end it--"
Snape leaned forward, his tones urgent, his dark eyes not so much endless tunnels now as filled with earnest intent. "Someday you shall, I have no doubt. But only when the time is ripe, Harry. Only when you are grown and ready. If you push yourself into battle unprepared, you will lose us the war--"
How could the man be so dense? "I don't care about the war," Harry cried. "I care about you!"
"Ah." Snape's whole body seemed to marginally relax. "Yes. I... Thank you, Harry. That's... good to hear, hyperbole and all."
"Huh?"
"Hyperbole. Exaggeration. That is, I'm certain you're concerned about the war as well. But as for caring about me... well. If you attempt to help me before you are ready, you can only make my situation far more dire."
That was certainly true. Harry gave a jerky, reluctant nod.
"Enough of that," Snape decided. "So. Did you come to me in the night merely to inquire about the locked door?"
Say yes, something inside Harry urged him. Tell him that's all you had on your mind, and that everything's fine now. Because everything is.
But fine or not, was that the kind of relationship he wanted to have with his father? One in which he pretended he wasn't bothered even though he was? What Snape had said had been just horrible. And yeah, it seemed like they were past it now, and it wasn't like Harry wanted to hold a grudge or anything, but... well, he couldn't just sweep it under the rug.
Even if Snape could.
Harry brought his knees up to his chest and hugged his legs as he looked at his father with wide, distressed eyes. All at once the ring hanging around his neck felt unbearably heavy. He reached beneath his jumper and pulled it out, turning it over and over in his fingers as he admitted, "I was pretty worried about the things you said, Professor."