Shake the disease

Shake The Disease

Part three

by

Logospilgrim

A couple of hours later, their sporadic conversation had yielded to a comfortable silence, then they both became lost in their own thoughts. Pomfrey was sipping the last of her brandy when she noticed that her guest had fallen asleep sitting on the couch.

"Severus?"

He snored softly in response.

She shook her head. The Potions Master wasn't quite one hundred percent yet. Of course, when was he ever? She knew that he often healed his injuries himself, loath as he was to crawl into the Hospital Wing after surviving another encounter with his "fellow" Death Eaters. On top of that, he was overworked; his diet was inadequate at best; he suffered from insomnia. Nothing short of lying on a beach in Tahiti for a year would restore him to health.

"Oh, you'd love that, I'm sure," she whispered, smiling at the thought. "A coconut shell in one hand and a Potions manual in the other." He looked so peaceful, ensconced in the cozy white cushions, that she didn't have the heart to wake him. So she covered him with the blue throw and carefully eased a pillow behind his head.

He barely stirred.

"Good night, Severus." She removed his shoes, turned the lights off, and retired to her bedroom.

****

The dungeons were not this warm.

Nor were his blankets so soft.

And was that frying bacon he smelled?

The Potions Master, who by now was spread out on Pomfrey's couch, mumbled and frowned.

"Severus? Are you awake?"

His eyes snapped open and he sat bolt-upright. "Where-"

Pomfrey came out of the kitchen, rubbing her hands on her apron. "Breakfast will be ready in a minute. Feeling rested? I hope the couch was comfortable enough."

He stared at her and looked around, as if trying to figure out how he'd ended up asleep in the mediwitch's living room, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

The dinner. Much more relaxing than he'd expected.

"Don't tell me I nodded off after just two glasses of brandy," he said.

"Oh, you were exhausted."

"You should have woken me."

"You were just fine where you were. I don't know how you can stand those cold chambers of yours."

He pushed the blanket away and slipped his feet into his shoes. "At least in the dungeons I am almost certain to find relative peace and quiet."

"Well, I'd rather you not get a chill so soon after your illness. Why don't you go splash some water on your face while I set the table?"

He threw a long-suffering look her way, and retreated into the bathroom.

By the time he returned, a veritable feast had been laid on the table, which was crowded with plates and bowls: there were fresh strawberries and cream, waffles, eggs, fried potatoes, bacon, ham, cheese, dripping toast, steaming black coffee and orange juice. Pomfrey herself was at work on a pile of pancakes.

Snape blinked and said, "Is the rest of the staff joining us?"

"Sit down and eat up," she said, pointing at a chair.

He grumbled, took the indicated seat and reached for the coffee pot.

"It's a special occasion, Severus," she said. "Let loose. Have a strawberry."

"You are fast becoming the bane of my existence." Snape surveyed the array of food before him and said, "A serving of plain oatmeal would have sufficed."

She cringed. "Plain oatmeal? You know, for a spy, you're not very adventurous."

"If your life was as complex as mine, you'd learn to treasure the simpler things."

"Think of this weekend as a holiday," she said. "Enjoy yourself a little."

"I assume you cooked all this?"

"Of course I did."

"Well... fine." He put a couple of eggs, a few spoonfuls of potatoes and a slice of ham on his plate.

"Did you sleep all right?"

"Yes. I hope... I didn't mean to be an imposition-"

She tossed a strawberry at him and hit him square in the forehead. He smirked.

"Eat, Severus."

Before he knew it, he'd finished his plate, and helped himself to more eggs and potatoes, adding some cheese and bacon. "If your goal was to trick me into gaining ten pounds, I daresay, mission accomplished. Are you quite happy now?"

"Oh, there's still lunch," Pomfrey said, looking at him over her cup of tea.

He stopped chewing, stared back at her, and quickly swallowed. "You don't truly expect me to hang around with you for the entire weekend. I already told you yesterday, Poppy, I have essays to gra-"

"How about a walk around the gardens after breakfast? It'll give you an opportunity to burn all those calories."

"I should be yelling at you right now, and marching out of here."

She filled his cup again and said, "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone how gracious you really are underneath the scowl."

"It is fortunate for me that no one would believe you anyway."

****

The Potions Master's day in the company of the school's mediwitch turned out to be more pleasant than he could have imagined. Perhaps he spent too much time alone, as she'd previously suggested. Even when they weren't talking and were just sitting together, sharing another glass of brandy while watching the sun set beyond her living room windows, like they did after dinner, he discovered that simply having someone else nearby felt nice.

Earlier, they'd had a stroll on the grounds, then had lunch in Hogsmeade and did a bit of shopping. It had been a bright fall day, with just enough crispness in the air to cheer him. He'd chanced on a 1959 edition of The Fantastic World of Muggle Elixirs, and before they returned to Hogwarts, he allowed Pomfrey to buy him a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.

Not that he'd ever admit it, but he'd enjoyed himself.

"It's getting late," he said when the sky began to darken. "I think I should head back to the dungeons lest I fall asleep on your couch again. We wouldn't want to create a scandal."

Pomfrey's laughter was immediately joined by his.

Then suddenly, he dropped his glass and choked in agony, doubling over.

"Severus!" The mediwitch rushed to his seat and crouched down in front of him. "What is it? Severus, Severus!"

"S- summoning... me," he said, barely able to breathe.

"Does it usually... is it always this-"

"No... m- must be... upset... I have to... to go..."

"Let me get the ointment," Pomfrey said, her face white. "This can't be good-"

He raised his head, and his eyes met hers. "I have to go."

After a moment, she nodded, then reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Be careful... please, be careful."

"I must... retrieve some things from my chambers."

"Use my fireplace," she said, helping him to his feet.

They made their way toward the hearth and she threw some floo powder into the dying flames. "Professor Snape's quarters."

He tried to smile and said, "I'll see you for breakfast... tomorrow. Make me some pancakes?"

"You're on," she said, her throat growing tight.

Then he was gone.

She gazed at the fireplace, and went to change into her uniform.

****

Pain.

Snape stopped trying to move and concentrated on figuring out where he was.

What had happened?

Lucius informs me that you were... ill.

Snape began to tremble and felt a hand on his head. He heard a soft voice, but couldn't make out the words. His attempt to speak was futile; nothing but a croak emerged from his mouth.

Then he remembered screaming.

Under no circumstances is a Death Eater to ignore my call. Crucio.

Snape moaned. He felt something like a pin prick on his arm and flinched.

"... morphine." The soft voice again. "Severus..." Noises. "... hear me?"

However, I fear a much more troubling matter has come to my attention, Severus.

The Dark Lord knew.

"His heart rate is going up-"

Footsteps, rustling sounds.

"... a normal reaction to the drug."

He couldn't be alive.

You are a traitor. Crucio.

The Potions Master struggled to open his eyes. "Albussss..."

"I'm here, Severus. Breathe slowly. You're home."

The pain was fading now, and he could have sworn he was floating right off the bed.

Bed?

The last thing he knew, he'd been lying face down in mud and dried leaves, and shivering...

"He... He-Who-Must... Not-Be-Named... knows..."

"Albus, don't excite him. Don't talk, Severus, rest."

Snape's right eyelid fluttered; the other was swollen shut. "Poppy..."

"Shhh," the mediwitch said, dabbing his forehead with a cloth. "Your jaw is badly bruised. I know you can't feel it because of the drugs we've given you, but it'd be better if you stayed quiet."

Snape's lips twitched and his eye rolled lazily in its socket before closing again. "Mmm... is it Muggle..."

"Yes, dear," Pomfrey said.

"Mmm."

"You're safe now. We're taking good care of you."

He nodded, the gesture barely perceptible. Then he frowned and said, "No..."

"What is it, Severus?" Dumbledore said.

"Death Eaters... thought they were... going to kill me."

How long did they beat him? He'd been kicked, punched, clobbered, over and over... He remembered the taste of blood after one of his ribs had snapped...

Traitor.

He moaned.

"It's all right, lad," Dumbledore said. "I won't let you go back." He whispered a spell and Snape was asleep.

The Headmaster then turned to Pomfrey. "How is he?"

"It's nothing that a few weeks' rest won't heal. And Dr. Moorland will be on hand until Severus is more fully recovered."

The man who'd been helping her stabilize the Potions Master nodded. "He's going to be fine, Professor Dumbledore. Unfortunately, we non-magical folk don't have ways to make bruises disappear as quickly as you wizards do, but I'm sure you'll agree our drugs can be quite effective."

"Poppy and I are grateful for your help, doctor," Dumbledore said. "I'm certain that Severus will feel he's in good hands once he's had a chat with you. He'd begun looking into Muggle cures, as I told you."

"I am looking forward to answering any questions Professor Snape may have concerning our medicinal drugs, of course." The tall man gently gripped Severus's wrist and checked his pulse. "He's responding to the morphine very well."

"I'm glad you could come on such short notice, Dr. Moorland," Dumbledore said.

"It was clearly an emergency, professor. My dealings with the staff at St. Mungo's may be infrequent, but I am their Muggle liaison, and I've never failed to respond to a call. Not to mention the fact that this is a most unique case."

"I understand Arthur Weasley briefed you about the nature of Professor Snape's... activities?"

Dr. Moorland nodded again. "He told me that he'd acted on your specific request because of this." He turned Snape's arm over, exposing the Dark Mark, and indicated the yellowish bumps that outlined it. "The rash you noticed around the mark is indeed unusual."

"And you heard what Severus said, Albus," Pomfrey said. "I don't like this at all."

"We'll have to monitor it closely for changes," Moorland said. "In the meantime, I'll treat it with cortisone." He looked at Snape with a thoughtful expression. "When he starts to improve, I'd like to give him a series of vitamin shots. The tests I've done on him show that he's anemic. We also need to do something about his rather high blood pressure."

"Is it any wonder, he never listens to me, the stubborn mule!" Pomfrey said. She jerked the potions cabinet door open and snatched a roll of bandages from it. "I can barely get him to eat, let alone rest and take minimal care of himself like a normal human being."

"Between you and Dr. Moorland, I suspect he'll have to learn now," Dumbledore said, a merry twinkle glinting in his eyes.

****

Snape had awoken in the Hospital Wing on countless occasions, and the smell had always filled him with a mix of apprehension and fury. This time, however, it instantly calmed the surge of anguish he'd felt upon regaining consciousness.

He wasn't Voldemort's prisoner. He was at Hogwarts. Safe.

"Severus?"

An even greater sense of relief washed over him at the sound of Pomfrey's worried voice.

"Poppy..." he murmured, too weak to open his eyes.

"Are you hurting anywhere, dear?"

He coughed and winced. "Everywhere, I think."

She clucked her tongue, and then her hand was on his forehead. "And you've got a fever. Let me get Dr. Moorland so he can have a look at you."

"Who?"

"St. Mungo's sent us a Muggle doctor. He's been giving you some drugs we wouldn't be able to get otherwise."

"Oh."

"You just lie still. I'll be right back."

A few moments later, he heard her returning to the Hospital Wing, and opened his good eye to see who this doctor was.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," the dark-haired, middle-aged man said. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a... hippogriff... ran me over."

"I'll assume that can't be terribly good," Moorland said. He slipped on his stethoscope and listened to Snape's heartbeat. "Don't worry, though. You'll be better before you know it." He then carefully began to prod the Potions Master's abdomen; despite his gentle touch, Snape gasped.

"I'm sorry, professor. You've sustained quite a bit of damage, I'm afraid."

"Not for the first time, either," Pomfrey said. "Heaven knows how many injuries he's patched up himself over the years."

"I've... gotten by-" Snape said, breath catching in his throat when Moorland's fingers came across yet another bruised area. Sweat had begun to glisten on Snape's pained features.

"I'd keep quiet, if I were you," Pomfrey said, dabbing his face with a cool cloth.

The doctor opened his bag and retrieved a number of small bottles. "I'm going to give you a few pills, professor, for the pain, and to bring your temperature down. You need to sleep, and allow your body to mend itself."

"Maybe he should eat something first," Pomfrey said.

"He won't fall asleep right away. Perhaps a bowl of fruit," Moorland said.

"Good idea. I'll have a House Elf fetch one from the kitchens."

Moments later, Pomfrey returned with a small serving of diced pears. The doctor had prepared Snape's next dose and placed it on the bedside table in a plastic cup.

"You will have to... explain to me what all those... pills are," Snape said. "Most curious..."

"It'll be my pleasure."

Pomfrey sat next to the bed. "All right, Severus, we need to get some nourishment in you."

"Again, you feed me," Snape said. He would have smirked, but he was already beginning to feel drowsy.

"Someone has to, apparently," she said, spooning the fruit into his unresisting mouth. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the doctor remove bandages and inspect Snape's forearm.

"Itches..." Snape mumbled between mouthfuls.

The odd yellow rash had started to appear on the mark itself, while the pustules that ringed it were more numerous, lighter in shade, and seemingly filled with liquid.

Shortly after he'd consumed the last of the fruit, Snape's drooping eyelids finally drifted shut.

"What do you think?" Pomfrey asked Moorland.

"It's a bit worrisome. I wouldn't be so concerned if I knew that it had nothing to do with this mark. However..." He shook his head.

"Let me," she said, and took out her wand. She waved it over the mark, and frowned. "I can't get a clear reading. Something's blocking me."

"I fear there's not much we can do other than wait. When it becomes obvious exactly what this rash is becoming, I'll be in a better position to decide on an adequate treatment. Right now, I can only guess. Whatever it is, it appears to be progressing fast, and the cortisone is having little effect," Moorland said.

"The Headmaster needs to see this-"

No sooner had Pomfrey uttered the words that Dumbledore entered the Hospital Wing.

"I thought I'd check on Severus," the old wizard said, approaching the bed. "Did the poor lad wake at all?"

"Albus, take a look at his arm," Pomfrey said.

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and peered at the rash that marred the Potions Master's limb. "Mmh." He swept his palm over it. "Dark magic is definitely at work here." He repeated the gesture he'd just made, and stroked his beard. "It's somehow entwined with Severus's allergy to porcupine needles, and triggering an adverse reaction."

"Dr. Moorland already tried one remedy, and it didn't work," Pomfrey said, unable to repress her agitation. "What if..."

"The process is in its initial stages, Madam Pomfrey," the doctor said. "I'm certain we'll be equipped to deal with the outcome, once it manifests itself. As you recall, the morphine stopped his pain, and the medication I just gave him worked as well."

"We'll get him through this, Poppy," Dumbledore said.

She smoothed Snape's blankets, then brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes. "He's been through so much already." She glanced at Moorland and said, "He'll be sleeping for a while?"

"Until late this afternoon, no doubt."

"That can only do him good," Dumbledore said. "I don't need to tell you, Dr. Moorland, that Severus has long neglected himself in the name of our cause. I've often debated whether I should let him go on like this." He sighed. "At any rate, his spying days are over."

"As I told Madam Pomfrey, I have several healing therapies planned for your Potions Master. Much of the damage can be repaired, and even reversed."

Dumbledore bent down and patted Snape's cheek. "Heaven knows the lad deserves it."

****

Pomfrey put her quill down and rose from her seat.

"Severus?"

The Potions Master, who'd been in a peaceful slumber all afternoon, had suddenly groaned, and a sharp quiver rocked his body.

The mediwitch hurried towards the bed, pointing her wand at her throat as she did so. "Dr. Moorland, come to the Hospital Wing right away!"

Snape was shivering from head to toe, and drops of perspiration began to down his face; then he cried out, and she ran her wand over him again and again, beads of sweat now dotting her own brow.

"What's happening to him, Merlin, this doesn't make any sense-"

----

End of part three.