Shake the disease

Shake the Disease

Part One

by

Logospilgrim

Rated PG (some violence).

Disclaimer: I'm only playing with J.K. Rowling's wonderful toys. I promise I won't break them, or leave them out in the rain.

Welcome to "Hogwarts General Hospital" ;-)

You know how hard it is for me
to shake the disease
that takes hold of my tongue
in situations like these
Understand me

~ Depeche Mode

"Good morning, Severus," McGonagall said. "Fashionably late, I see."

He ignored her and sat down, his back ramrod straight, his face half-shrouded by his lanky black hair.

"Well, you're as sociable as ever," McGonagall said.

"Shall we dispense with the usual pleasantries, Minerva?" he said with a strained voice, and reached for a cup of black coffee. "I am not at all in the mood."

She sniffed. "I don't know why I even bother trying to be civil to you."

"Then don't. It seems to work for everyone else."

This, of course, is precisely when the Headmaster joined in the conversation.

"How are you this morning, my dear Severus?" Dumbledore said.

Snape inclined his head towards the old wizard but didn't look him in the eyes. "Headmaster."

"You look a little pale. Insomnia again, Severus?"

"No, Headmaster, but when I awoke I wasn't feeling quite well, and so I took a potion before coming to breakfast. Nothing to be concerned about."

Except that his vision was blurring.

"Something rather nasty is going around," McGonagall said. "I've had to send a number of students to see Poppy."

"It is getting cooler," Dumbledore said. "That time of the year-"

Snape suddenly gripped the edge of the table and hunched over it, his breathing fast and shallow.

"Severus? Severus!" Dumbledore said. "What's wrong?"

"Dizzy, just... I'll be fine in a second," Snape said, gritting his teeth. Why wasn't that damned potion working properly?

McGonagall put a hand on his shoulder. "Severus, I'm fetching Poppy."

"I said I'm... I'm fine-"

The students began to notice the singular activity taking place at the Head Table; the rambunctious noise in the Great Hall was dying down and giving way to whispered exclamations.

Then Snape groaned and clutched his waist with one arm; his head dropped on the table. Dumbledore was on his feet in an instant and at Snape's side.

"Get Poppy," Dumbledore told McGonagall, who hurried out of the Great Hall.

Snape groaned again, the sound weaker this time, and shivered.

"Keep still," Dumbledore said. He pushed the hair from Snape's features and discovered that a crimson rash covered the Potions Master's cheek. "Oh, dear."

"Headmaster," Snape said, and lost consciousness.

"Severus!"

The noise in the Great Hall increased; students craned their necks to see what was happening at the Head Table. Pomfrey and McGonagall came charging in and within seconds they were huddling around the unconscious Potions Master.

"He just fainted," Dumbledore said.

"Help me lift him from the table," Pomfrey said, a bit out of breath.

They gently grabbed him by the shoulders and propped him up against the chair. Pomfrey ran her wand over him while McGonagall unfastened his collar and Dumbledore cradled his jaw.

"He's very warm," the Headmaster said.

Pomfrey clucked her tongue. "Look at him. Why didn't he come to see me this morning?" She peered at the rash covering his cheek, took more readings, and frowned. "This is strange..."

"What is it, Poppy?" Dumbledore said.

"He's obviously got the flu, but there's something else... We need to bring him to the Hospital Wing right away."

Snape's eyelids suddenly fluttered, and he groaned loudly enough that all the chatter in the Great Hall ceased.

"Severus," Pomfrey said, "keep still."

He scowled and opened his mouth to reply, and instead began to cough and cough until he just shook almost soundlessly; then he took a deep ragged breath, and started coughing again. When at last the fit subsided, he sagged against the chair and shut his eyes.

"That's what you get for trying to argue with me," Pomfrey said. "I should have said, keep quiet!"

Dumbledore gestured to Hagrid. "I don't think Severus would much appreciate being subjected to a mobilicorpus charm," the Headmaster told McGonagall. "Not when Sirius was the last to-"

Snape slumped over the armrest and vomited in Lupin's lap.

"Not on my only set of robes..." Lupin said. He sighed and helped Dumbledore and the two witches to set the Potions Master back in his chair.

Snape mumbled something they could not understand.

"Don't fret, Severus," the Headmaster said. He gently held the black head up, wiped Snape's mouth and chin, and said, "Poppy, the rash seems to be spreading."

"Merlin's beard," Pomfrey said through clenched teeth. Sweat had begun to roll down Snape's face. She gripped his wrist and touched his forehead. "He's burning up -I think he's having an allergic reaction." She muttered a charm and the Head Table was cleared. Another charm and Snape was divested of his robes and jacket.

"Poppy?" McGonagall said. "Shouldn't we be getting him to-"

"No time," Pomfrey said, and levitated the insensible Potions Master onto the table. "The fever is rising too quickly, I've got to get it down or..."

The students were staring at the unfolding crisis with a mixture of shock and fascination. Was their dreaded Potions Master only a human being after all?

"Feverosem reducio," Pomfrey said, waving her wand. Then she undid a few more buttons of Snape's white dress shirt, and conjured small bags of ice which she placed on his chest and against his sides and inner thighs.

After a few tense minutes, Dumbledore said, "Poppy?"

"It's starting to come down. A hundred and three."

"Let's get him to the damn Hospital Wing then," Hooch said. She conjured a stretcher, and stared at Pomfrey. "Well?"

"All right, it's safe," Pomfrey said. "A hundred and two point six..."

"Minerva, keep an eye on the students," the Headmaster said.

McGonagall nodded.

Snape was carefully placed upon the stretcher, and Dumbledore began to guide it down the center aisle, with Pomfrey and Hooch on either side. The student whispered amongst themselves and ogled their Potions Master, who was still unconscious. His skin glistened with sweat, his shirt clung to his body, his breathing was labored. Shivers ran across his long limbs, and his lips trembled.

"A hundred and two point eight," Pomfrey said. "Feverosem reducio."

Dumbledore lengthened his strides and before anyone in the Great Hall had time to blink, the Headmaster, Hooch, Pomfrey and Snape had disappeared from sight beyond the entrance doors.

****

When they arrived in the hospital wing, Pomfrey gestured towards the bathroom and said, "Here, bring him in here. I'm not giving him another potion 'til I know exactly what it is he took this morning." She muttered a spell and the tub was filled with ice.

She stripped the professor of his clothing and lowered him into the tub until he was covered up to his shoulders in ice cubes.

A couple of minutes went by and Dumbledore said, "Poppy, is it working?"

"Yes. He's down to a hundred and two... good, good."

There was a small gasp, and Snape opened his eyes.

"Wh- where..."

"It's all right, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Don't move. You're in the Hospital Wing."

"Severus, what potion did you take earlier?" Pomfrey said.

"P... p-p-potion?" Snape said, his teeth chattering, and he was seized by a violent shudder. "Wha- what's w-w-wrong... with m-me... why am I..."

"Try to remember," Pomfrey said. "We think you're having an allergic reaction to something."

"I... Flu... Flu Begone," he said.

Pomfrey ticked off the potion's ingredients in her head. Lavender pollen, bees' wings, morning dew, porcupine quills... Oh, no.

"Poppy?" Dumbledore asked.

She ran her wand over Snape's quivering form and said, "Merlin. He's become allergic to porcupine quills."

"Wh- what?" Snape said, looking at Pomfrey with a dazed expression.

"Don't try to talk," Dumbledore told him. "Poppy, how's his temperature?"

"A hundred point five. Let's get him into bed."

She levitated him out of the tub; another wave of her wand, and thick towels wrapped themselves around his body. She then settled him on the bed, and after making sure he was thoroughly dried, covered him with a thin cotton sheet.

"He's got that blasted rash all over now," she said, "and there's isn't a single thing in my potions cabinet that doesn't contain porcupine quills."

The Headmaster gazed at Snape and shook his head. "I fear, Poppy, that he's ingested so many medicinal potions over the years..."

"It sometimes happens to professional Quidditch players," Hooch said. "It's rare, of course. But even they don't get injured as often as Severus has."

Snape moaned. "Albus..."

"Yes, Severus? I'm here."

"I..." He opened his eyes half-way and closed them again.

Dumbledore patted Snape's shoulder. "Try to rest. There's not much else you can do, my boy."

The Potions Master shivered.

"Albus," Pomfrey said, "he can't just ride this out." She touched his temple. "He's getting warmer again. Feverosem reducio."

"Perhaps... some Muggle type medicine would help," Dumbledore said.

All eyes darted towards Snape, who didn't move a muscle in protest.

"It's serious, all right," Hooch said.

"Well, if that's what we're going to do, the quicker, the better," Pomfrey said, laying a cold compress on Snape's forehead. "Something to bring his fever down, and, let's see, whatever Muggles use for flu symptoms... A cream for that rash... Heaven help us when Severus is able to start complaining."

"I believe a short conversation with Miss Granger is in order," Dumbledore said.

****

Hermione staggered into the Hospital Ward, hefting two large plastic bags. "Madam Pomfrey, I've -I've got the medicine you wanted."

"Thank goodness you're here, Hermione," Pomfrey said. "You set those on the table by the door, lovely, let me take a look..." A few instants later, boxes of all shapes and sizes were stacked in front of the bewildered mediwitch. "My stars!" she said, peering at one of them. "Ah, the instructions are on the back. Now then, fever..."

"I think it might be best to start with a couple of Tylenols, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said. "That red and white box over there."

"Thank you, dear," Pomfrey said. After a minor struggle with the childproof cap, the mediwitch shook two tablets in her hand and headed towards Snape's bed. "Would you help me, Hermione dear? Oh, I do hope these work."

"What's the matter with the professor?" Hermione asked.

"A combination of things," Pomfrey said. "Professor Snape was ill this morning, and on top of that, he had an allergic reaction to one of the ingredient in the potion he took."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "It wasn't -not porcupine quills, Madam Pomfrey? This is why the Headmaster asked me to buy Muggle medicine, isn't it?"

"You're right as usual, dear. Luckily, Professor Snape isn't in a position to fuss."

"Or scowl at me," Hermione said, and bit her tongue.

They approached the bedridden man and Hermione's footsteps became hesitant.

Her formidable Potions Master was immobile, and his cheeks were flushed. His arms were folded over his chest, all of which were covered by a rash.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Pomfrey said, beckoning the Gryffindor forward. "I doubt the professor knows you're even here." She slipped an arm beneath Snape's shoulders and raised him from the bed. "Severus, I have to give you some medicine now."

"P -potion... it'll burn... got... got to..." The words that followed were unintelligible.

"Hold his head, Hermione," Pomfrey said. "When I've given him the pills, hand me that glass of water on the bedside table."

Hermione swallowed, and cupped the back of Snape's head.

"Open up, Severus," Pomfrey said gently. "Come on, Professor, good... Glass of water, Hermione..."

Hermione did as the mediwitch asked, careful not to let Snape's head slip from her grasp.

"Drink," Pomfrey told Snape.

His throat worked, and she nodded in satisfaction. Then she turned to Hermione and said, "How long does it take for these pills to take effect?"

"Fifteen minutes or so, usually," Hermione said. "Can I... can I put his head back on the pillow now?"

"Oh! Of course, sorry, dear." The mediwitch felt Snape's forehead. "Fifteen minutes... won't be a moment too soon. I haven't been able to get rid of this fever."

"Is he... He's going to be all right, isn't he?"

"I'm sure he will, once that potion's out of his system. After that, well, the rash will eventually go away, and he'll..." She folded her arms. "He'll pretty much have to lie still for a while."

Hermione was glad she wasn't in the mediwitch's shoes.

Little did she know.

****

Snape opened his eyes and glowered.

Why is it... so damned BRIGHT in here... And why does everything hurt so much...

His muscles felt like they were simultaneously being stretched and crushed; an unbearable pressure in his sinus cavities threatened to take all of his head along with it; his body felt like it was on fire, and his skin itched... But he was too weak to do anything about it.

Then he realized he wasn't in his beloved dungeon rooms, but in the Hospital Wing. Again. What had happened to him this time? Yet another accident in the classroom?

Blast those eternal dunderheads...

Or perhaps... A torture session at the hands of Voldemort.

Then his face scrunched up, and he let out three scratchy sneezes.

"Awake, Severus?"

Oh, joy. The mediwitch extraordinaire.

He'd planned to bark one of his trademark caustic responses. What emerged from his throat was more like a barely audible croak, something similar to the sound an ailing frog would make. His eyes watered and he sneezed again.

She touched his forehead. "I think you need another couple of Tylenols."

Tylewhats?! Again he tried to snap at her, but his voice was nowhere to be found.

"Severus, for pity's sake, relax. You've got the worst flu I've ever seen and I can't give you any potions because you're allergic to porcupine quills. Do you understand?"

Suddenly, he remembered -getting up, feeling ill, taking a potion... Sitting down at the Head Table for breakfast... Was delirium setting in, or had he actually thrown up on the werewolf? And, wait a minute. Allergic to porcupine quills?

He glared at Pomfrey and rasped.

"That's right, Severus."

He attempted to rise, in vain.

"Bullheaded man, what did I just tell you? Calm down, you're bringing your temperature up! Don't believe me, do you -let me prove it to you, then." She muttered a spell and the pitcher of water she was holding was transfigured into a mirror, which she held in front of his face.

His eyes widened.

Oh, no. Damn damn DAMN!

There was no mistaking the tell-tale rash that covered every inch of his sallow flesh. It was true. It had finally happened.

He stared at Pomfrey and gave a slight shake of the head, overcome by weariness.

"I know, Severus, and I'm sorry. I've been doing my best with, um... with alternative methods."

He shut his eyes and shrugged, too tired to care.

"All right, dear. I'm going to give you some pills now, and you'll feel a bit better in no time at all," Pomfrey said.

Snape swallowed the medicine and groaned.

"What is it?" Pomfrey asked.

He glared at her again. I feel like shit, is that so bloody surprising?

She ignored his sullen look and checked his temperature. Then she grabbed a small yellow tube and squeezed some of its contents into the palm of her hand.

"What... you doing?" he said. Or rather, wheezed.

"I'm going to put something on that rash of yours. It itches, doesn't it?"

"How astute of-" He flinched and swallowed.

"Professor, I predict you're going to be here for a while, so let's make like friends, shall we? And you'd better keep quiet, or you'll hurt your throat."

He grumbled softly.

"Good."

Pomfrey began rubbing the ointment on his arm; he tensed, then relaxed.

She sniffed. "Smells like herbs. It's not greasy either, not bad... I should keep some of it in stock. Well, I'll have to now, I think. Does it help?"

"Hmm."

She moved on to his other arm, squirted more ointment from the tube, and spread it across his chest. "Is the burning sensation going away?"

He nodded and sighed with relief.

She lifted the blankets from his legs and applied the fragrant cream on them, massaging his stiff muscles at the same time.

"How's that?" she said.

Snape snored in response.

She considered her slumbering patient and said, "I'll definitely need more of that stuff. I might as well take care of his back while I'm at it..." A couple of spells, and he was lying on his stomach; she'd just started gently kneading his rash-covered shoulders when the Headmaster came in.

"How's our Severus doing?" Dumbledore said.

"Grumpy, but cooperative."

"Excellent." He gazed at Snape and said, "Tsk, tsk. Poor lad. Is the Muggle medicine working?"

"Better than I expected," Pomfrey said, moving further down his back. "I should have looked into it sooner."

"There is no doubt that we magical folk tend to underestimate our Muggle counterparts. I suspect that Severus will develop an interest in the chemistry behind this medicine of theirs."

"Wonders will never cease!"

****

Hermione could hardly believe her ears when Madam Pomfrey told her to get more 'of that Muggle ointment' for Professor Snape. He'd allowed her to use it, then. And he must have liked it, since Madam Pomfrey had asked Hermione to buy more.

The Gryffindor couldn't help but feel exuberant: she'd managed to do something, at last, which her forbidding Potions Master had approved.

Or perhaps he was sicker than everyone thought.

She entered the Hospital Ward, her heart thudding against her ribs.

The mediwitch was sitting behind her desk, organizing stacks of notecards; Snape was still lying on his stomach, asleep.

"Madam Pomfrey..."

"Ah, Hermione. Come in, come in. Is that the cream I asked for?"

"I got a few tubes of it," Hermione said. She walked to the desk, sneaking a glance in Snape's direction on the way, and handed a small bag to Pomfrey.

"Thank you, dear." She took one of the tubes out of the bag. "You'll have to tell me where you get all these things."

"The professor... liked it?"

"Well, when he found out about his allergy, he was... It wasn't very good news, as you can imagine." Pomfrey said. "He didn't put up much of a fight after that."

Hermione gaped.

"I know he must seem like an overgrown porcupine to you students, but he's not so bad as all that, dear. Professor Snape just has a lot on his mind," the mediwitch said.

"Teaching potions doesn't look easy," Hermione said. Not to mention, spying on Voldemort and trying not to get killed.

"It most certainly isn't. It's a shame that the Hospital Ward is the only place where he ever seems to get any rest."

Hermione looked at her Potions Professor. It was so strange, seeing him like that. He wasn't scowling, or yelling, or stalking -he was just lying there, immobile, with his cheek pushed against the pillow.

"Is there anything else I can do?" she said.

"If you'd like, you can sit by his bedside while I finish with this paperwork, and let me know when he wakes up."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

****

An hour later, Hermione was finding it increasingly difficult not to doze off herself. The only sounds in the room were the shuffling of paper, and the Potions Master's even breathing.

Then suddenly, his eyelids opened, revealing drowsy black eyes. Hermione started.

"Oh!"

Pomfrey looked up from her work. "Something wrong, dear?"

"Madam Pomfrey, Professor Snape is awake," Hermione said, backing away from the bed.

The mediwitch immediately went to him, and touched his face and his neck. "Severus, how are you feeling?"

He tried to speak, and screwed his eyes shut.

"Throat?"

He nodded.

"Do you think you'd be able to swallow pills like those I gave you earlier?"

He shook his head.

"I -I think maybe this," Hermione said. She held out one of the bottles of Muggle medicine that were lined up on the table next to the potions cabinet. "It's cold syrup."

"Bring it to me, Hermione," Pomfrey said. "Let's get the professor sitting up a bit..." She waved her wand and turned him over, with pillows supporting his head and back.

"Here, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, and gave her the bottle, trying not to look at her professor.

Snape started breathing more rapidly, and a complaint escaped him.

"I don't think I've ever seen him so ill," Pomfrey said. She inspected the red liquid inside the bottle, took a whiff and wrinkled her nose. "I hope this won't make him sick."

"It's not sweet, I mean, that's what my parents used to give me when I had a flu, and it didn't make me sick, I'm sure Professor Snape will be all right."

Pomfrey poured some of it in a spoon. "Severus, have this."

He opened his mouth, took a painful swallow, and shuddered, but a few moments later, his breathing slowed.

"That was a good suggestion, Hermione," Pomfrey said.

"He might like ginger ale too," Hermione said. "It would help settle his stomach."

"Ginger ale?" Pomfrey said.

"It's a muggle drink. I always have some when I don't feel well."

"Well, I trust you, dear. And I'm sure the professor will be grateful to you once he's gotten his bearings back."

****

That evening, the Potions Master was busy wishing he were dead.

A flu, is what Pomfrey had said this was.

An attack of the bubonic plague, more like.

To top it off, he couldn't take any potions. He could name half a dozen that would have gotten rid of this thing in less than five minutes. He couldn't, however, name a single healing potion that didn't contain those blasted porcupine quills.

Worst of all, though, was that they wouldn't leave him to rot in the comfort of his own miserable company. Pomfrey, Albus, and, oh yes.

Miss Granger.

What an incomparable delight that was.

The girl was at his bedside, reading to him from some Muggle mystery book, every softly spoken word like a rock dropping on his head.

"Elementary, my dear Watson..."

He had to give it to the little know-it-all, though: that 'ginger ale' drink she'd brought had been a rather pleasant surprise, especially since the thought of ingesting anything had previously made him want to retch. But the golden fizzy liquid had quelled his nausea, and he was thankful enough to allow the girl to stay without subjecting her to his inimitable aura of menace.