The Last Sanguimagus

Severus gathered up his journals and sample vials and placed them in his portable potions case. He looked around the classroom one more time, wondering if there was anything he'd forgotten. Satisfied, he turned to the cauldron.

Something was different. Though he had held the potion to a constant heat for three days, none of it had evaporated, signalling its stability. But now the level of the potion was noticeably lower. He could see a ring of darker periwinkle drying around the edge of the brew.

Someone had stolen some of the antidote. That very day.

He gripped the edge of the desk and clenched his teeth. Who could have taken it? And why? Silas. It would be the proof the horrid professor needed...

Then he remembered the ice-slick in the corridor. It had been a distraction for someone.

One of the students.

Nott. Thomas. Granger.

Merlin help him if Nott had gotten a hold of it. If the Death Eaters found out that he was brewing an antidote to his own Lingering Wounds Potion...if they knew that he was helping Sarah...

He cursed. Loudly. More complications. More nightmares.

Well, he couldn't help anything now. He would have to deal with it when it arose. For now he'd go to Sarah's room. The potion was unchanged, and the small amount that had been stolen was not enough to make a difference.

He levitated his potions case and the cauldron and strode out the door. Thankfully Filius and Minerva had assisted him in melting and draining the ice-slick. The only sign that it had been impassable mere hours before was a damp stain near the walls. A Weasley twins creation, Filius had said. He scowled. Even after their departure he still wished that he could give them detentions. Preferably harvesting rat bile.

Sarah was waiting, much as she had been waiting before, though she had not bothered to cover her forearm this time.

"Good evening," he said. There was a table next to the bed, and he set up the cauldron, the journal, and the sample vials atop it, Transfiguring it to accommodate everything.

"Good evening," she said, and he was struck by her expression. She looked apprehensive.

"You are ready?" he asked.

"Obviously."

He pulled back the sheet and examined the wounds that he had treated before. They seemed to have made some progress towards healing, and he was quite relieved at that. The rest looked exactly the same.

"I'm going to apply the solution to all of the wounds," he informed her, turning towards the cauldron.

She looked at him quizzically. "All?"

"The solution is stable, and it is obvious that even in its unstable version it is effective." He paused. "Would you rather I only did half? I could...but I was under the impression that you were in significant discomfort. I assumed that you would like to put an end to this tonight."

Hope lurked in her eyes. "Tonight...would be excellent," she said, but she didn't seem entirely convinced.

Her lack of faith irked him. "Then I will proceed."

"Very well," she said softly, laying her head on her right forearm and closing her eyes.

Carefully he began the process, opening each wound and applying a healthy amount of the antidote. She was tense, though she made not a single noise, even as he brought the sheet down to her lower legs and applied it to the last, and worst, wound on the back of her left thigh. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. The heat radiating from her was quite noticeable without layers of clothing to hide it. Merlin, how has she lived like this for so long?

He sat down in a chair and scratched out several notes in his journal. He had carefully timed the application, and felt that an hour would give it enough time to bond with the potion. He only had a few minutes left before he would begin the second stage.

"Sarah?" he asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"I am going to begin removing the solution from the wounds soon," he said. "How do you feel?"

She opened her eyes, and for a moment he registered the pain she was feeling. "You needn't concern yourself," she said quietly. "I will let you know if there is a problem." She closed her eyes again.

He added a few more notes. "I've brought a few healing solutions," he said, trying to instill her with some measure of confidence. "It's entirely conceivable that you'll be free of scarring once the procedure is over and a few days have passed."

"Really."

He looked at the hourglass. It was time.

He spoke the incantation aloud, and his wand reacted. He placed it at the wound near the base of her neck and performed the gesture that would pull the antidote out, and the old potion with it. Nothing happened. He gestured again. Nothing. He frowned. It would be unhealthy to leave the antidote in for too long, and he was beginning to feel apprehensive. He gestured a third time, forcefully.

She screamed, and he stared in horror. The antidote had brought out the old potion. It had also taken some of her flesh with it.

He sat down heavily in the chair, shaking. His stomach did an abrupt flip. Clearly the Lingering Wounds Potion had been in the cuts for so long that it had actually become adhered to the tissues it inhabited.

He had failed. In the most awful way possible.

"Accio," she said raggedly. She caught something in her hand.

This was the worst possible scenario. He had already applied the solution to every wound. They would all react similarly. His antidote was far too strong. He felt nauseated.

There was a sudden feeling, a feeling of Dark Magic, faint but growing. He felt as if a vortex pulling on him, drawing him in, becoming stronger.

She was using the Painstone, he realised. Dark pressure filled the room. It was a near-tangible presence; the power of the gem surprised him, vibrating in the air, until it faded, and he came back to himself with a start.

"Please continue," she said neutrally.

"Continue?" He stared at her.

"Remove the rest of the potion," she said.

"You don't understand," he said. "It has adhered itself to your flesh. The only way to remove it is to rip it out. I must find a way to draw out only the antidote and begin rebrewing--"

"No," she said in a flat, emotionless voice. "Take it out. Take it all out now."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Sarah...you'll...it will be too difficult for you. The pain...you'll lose too much blood...the scarring will be significant."

"I have a Painstone, as you well know. I'm certain that you have a Blood Replenishing Potion. And scars do not concern me. I want it all removed. Tonight."

He took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. "I'm not certain..." he began. "Poppy should be here."

"No," she said evenly. "It would be quite problematic to use a Painstone in front of her."

He had to admit that she was right. "Ready yourself, then," he said. For a moment he could not even bring himself to continue, knowing how bloody and traumatic it would be. He tightened his grip. He spoke the words of the incantation and performed the gesture, ripping out the next application of antidote. There was no reaction from Sarah except a pulse of Dark Magic from the stone in her hand. He went to the next wound. And the next. He forced himself to continue, to concentrate on each slice, tearing out the vile potion. He deliberately blotted out the rest of her body, focusing on one at a time until he came to the last. With a determined motion he pulled out the final portion of the Lingering Wounds Potion.

It was over. But instead of a feeling of triumph, he could only look at her body in frightened horror. The cuts had sagged in, becoming divots in her flesh, oozing blood.

"It's all gone," she said, and it was eerie to hear her speak so emotionlessly while he stared at her ravaged back.

"Yes," he said. He tried to look away from her ruined skin, and swallowed back a wave of revulsion. "I am going to try healing them, but with so much tissue removed it will most likely take repeated applications..."

"Do what you can," she said simply.

He opened his potions case and removed a few vials. Carefully he applied a small amount of the first vial to the wound. He held his breath as the purple liquid slowly traversed the depression in her flesh, smoking terrifically. He cursed. It wasn't going to work. He unstoppered the second vial and poured a few drops directly to the slice. This time the liquid was absorbed, albeit slowly, and the bleeding slowed down dramatically. Relief washed over him. He coated all of the wounds liberally.

"I've reduced the bleeding," he said. "The healing potion will have to be reapplied, at least twice. Can you sit up? You need to take a Blood-Replenishing Potion."

She sat up slowly, her hand wrapped around the Painstone tightly. "When will the healing potion need to be reapplied?"

He selected a small goblet from his case and enlarged it, pouring in the proper dose. He handed it to her and she quaffed it without hesitation. "Twelve hours."

"Leave it with me, then." She grimaced at the taste of the Blood-Replenishing Potion and handed him back the goblet.

"You can't possibly apply it to yourself," he said. "I'll return in twelve hours."

"You don't have to."

He looked at her, and her eyes revealed nothing. Even Legilimency was of no help when she had so much pain to transmit to the Painstone. "I know that it isn't required. I am volunteering. There is a difference."

"If you must," she replied, and she laid down, putting her head upon her arm once more and closing her eyes. She looked physically exhausted.

He began to spell the excess blood off her back, revealing the pale white of her skin between the wounds. He winced at the amount of damage still left to heal. This was not how he had planned it at all, and it was difficult to look at her. He took a sheet of the thick white material that she used as a bandage and carefully set it on her back. She did not react. He bound her leg and arm and sat down in the chair, writing down his last notations regarding the application.

The steaming samples were quite gruesome, and he couldn't bring himself to save them, not even for the sake of further experimentation. Knowing that the potion would take a lengthy amount of time to separate from the tissue, if ever, made him question its value, and in the end he finally decided to dissolve them entirely. No good could come of keeping the Lingering Wounds Potion around in any form. He packed up the empty sample bottles, still hot from their recent contents, and poured the last of the cauldron's contents into a larger flask. He closed his potions case.

"Can you sleep?" he asked. "You could try the Dreamless Sleep Potion..."

"No thank you," she said, not even opening her eyes.

He pulled the blankets up over her still form, and left, extinguishing the torches as he closed the door behind him.

***