Taking Care

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story.

This is my second fan fiction, so please be patient with me. I'm not a native speaker of English!

Chapter 1

Severus Snape shoved the fourth years' Potion essays out of his sight, groaning as he did. His head was throbbing and each movement increased the pain. And again I didn't take a painkilling potion in time.

Taking his strongest pain potion at this point would merely dull the pain because the pain was already at such a high level. This is kind of a mixed tense issue. Sitting in his favorite armchair in his calm and dark sitting room would be helpful, but unfortunately not possible. He still had to mark the rest of his essays and then attend supper in the Great Hall.

If I don't show up, I'll soon have two annoying witches in my dungeons who will scold me for my lack of care for myself, he thought. After stating this, they would decide that he should not be left alone in his condition, and they would fuss over him. He groaned inwardly. He supported his head on both hands and massaged his temples with his fingers. Having no other choice, he dragged himself out of his chair.

The world promptly began to spin in front of his eyes, and the pain increased. He braced himself on the desk and was absolutely still until the pain eased a little and he was able to move again. He tried to walk without moving his head too much.

He managed to arrive at his medical potion shelf without stopping and reached for his strongest painkiller. Opening the vial, the disgusting smell made him grimace. Just thinking about drinking the liquid made him nauseous. Damn Pavlov's reflex, he cursed inwardly before gulping down the liquid in one swallow.

Instinctively, he closed his eyes and stood absolutely rigid. Any movement would risk the chance that his stomach would protest and empty its contents all over the floor. Not that there was anything in it besides the potion. But having the burning potion come back up the way it went in was not something that Severus was looking forward to. He stood there for a few minutes, feeling his blood flowing through his head and waiting for the pain to ease. When he felt safe enough to move, he made his way over to his desk again. Now in a sitting position, he again waited a few minutes for his pulse to slow down and the pain to ease. Then he reached for his quill and started marking essays again.

After half an hour, his headache was almost gone, but he did not feel any better. 'First this splitting headache, and now the words on this parchment start to move so that I can't correct them. What have I done to deserve this?'

Looking at the big clock above the classroom door, he realized that it was almost time to go to the Great Hall for supper. He rose from his chair and slowly walked to his private rooms. 'I best make sure that I appear to be all right, lest certain women will start to make a fuss over me,' he thought while heading for the washroom.

One glance in the mirror made all his hopes for a quiet supper without the concerned fussing of his colleagues vanish. He looked like the walking dead. He was paler than normal - which, given his normal complexion, was quite a feat. Dark circles around his eyes showed his lack of sleep, and his gaunt cheeks were evidence of weight loss because he hardly ate anything. He was not trying to starve himself; he just started to forget to eat when he was busy doing his work for the school and the Ministry.

Lately, the Ministry was ordering more and more potions, and he was quite overburdened. Neglecting his duties at school to brew would not be an option. Albus Dumbledore had done so much for him that he refused to relinquish any duties he had to do for him. So the only thing left to neglect was himself. The fact that he could not sleep after hard days like this was not helping his condition, either.

Dreamless Sleep Potions had not been an option because he did not want to become addicted; he had too many problems already. He was still ruminating about his continued miserable lot in life, when an unwanted but familiar feeling crept up.

Oh no, please, not this again! he thought while the feeling that someone was putting stones on his chest increased. He started to sink into this feeling. Darkness was eating him up from the inside, and he started to panic. I have to distract myself. Merlin, think about something else, something good, Severus! he demanded. Only happy memories or something good to look forward to could stop this feeling, so he definitely had to stop think about his misery. But it was so damn hard to distract one's self from those thoughts when you panicked because one knew what would happen if they sank further into the darkness. The weight on his chest was getting heavier and heavier and he felt depression taking over. Just then, there was a voice echoing through the dungeons.

"Severus, we are awaiting your presence in the Great Hall. Don't make one of us come down to get you. You have ten minutes." The demanding voice of Albus Dumbledore was not only echoing in his room, but also in his head.

One glance at the clock over the mirror showed him that he already was 20 minutes late for supper. Damn, I've already made them suspicious. At least Albus' voice had made his depression vanish. Now, he had other things to worry about. He looked at his appearance in the mirror again. I cannot go like this. He turned on the tap and splashed some water in his face. That had, of course, no real effect, but the tiredness left for a few seconds. A Glamour Charm is the only thing that will save me from being stuck in the infirmary for the entire Christmas holiday, he thought while placing said charm on himself. With one last glance at his now more healthy-looking self, he headed for the Great Hall.

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*Pavlov's reflex: Classical conditioning, which means, in Severus' case, that the body reacted out of experience: he became nauseous by just looking at the potion because he knew that it would make him feel queasy.