Owls and Musings

Chapter 7

The next eight years followed the same routine. Severus came out during the summer before travelling on to his house at Spinner's End. August found him attending the recital before ensconcing himself in academics for the rest of the year.

Sometimes Esme would wing her way to Hogwarts, avoiding her Aunt when she did so. Severus had guessed that the conversation with Dumbledore during that first Easter had been due to the Headmaster recognising her owl form when she had flown to Severus' window, and Dumbledore had verified it when Severus confronted him.

It was a quiet sort of relationship, very comfortable for the two of them and it took into account both of their busy schedules. They loved when they could and corresponded the rest of the time. The students were used to seeing the professor accept messages from exotic birds now. The other teachers only knew he had someone or several someones that he corresponded with, but he never let them know who it was and after being scowled at just for asking, they let the subject die a whimpering death.

Periodically, the two of them got together at Christmas as long as she wasn't embroiled in some research out of the country. Even if they could not meet, they always exchanged gifts.

Severus got into the habit of finding unique gifts for her Christmas presents, which she cherished. One memorable Christmas, he obtained a part Kneazle - part Siamese kitten from Hogsmeade. It was the runt of the litter and Severus knew Esme would fall in love with it. She did and she immediately christened it Casey.

"Casey?" he asked, enjoying watching her play on the floor with the kitten as it batted the end of her plait she was teasing it with.

"Not the word 'Casey'," she explained. "The initials K.C."

This ought to be good. "And they stand for..." And then he got it and they simultaneously said "Kitty Cat."

She smiled sweetly at him as he groaned.

During the intervening years Malfoy was starting to gather up the old crowd again and Dumbledore insisted upon Severus' staying in close contact with them. Time after time he was expected to attend clandestine meetings that Malfoy held; sitting quietly in a dark corner, sipping wine and listening to them speak of their delusions of grandeur. Periodically he would hear an interesting rumour of dark happenings in Europe, disappearances that were not quite what they seemed, most of which centered in the Black Forest and in Albania. He dutifully passed this and all information gathered at the meetings on to the Headmaster. When the Death Eaters' sons started showing up at school as students he found himself forced into showing even more favouritism toward his House so that he could demonstrate his seeming loyalty to the remaining Death Eaters. This all tended to put him in an increasingly sour mood.

Then Potter arrived.

That seemed to say it all. The brat was the spitting image of his father with the green eyes of his mother that haunted him daily, twisting the knife of fate ever deeper into the old wounds of his psyche.

Esmerelda did not like it when he wrote about his dislike for most of the students, so he attempted to restrain his rants to incidents rather than individuals. Somehow, though, most of the incidents did involve a lot of the same individuals, and much as he tried - he had no control over that problem.

As far as he was concerned, though, her job with the ministry needed to come to an end. Her letters were constantly mentioning her exhaustion and lack of departmental support. As the years passed, he noted that they seemed to be sending her on more and more dangerous "research" assignments. And really, research was not supposed to be that dangerous. She was constantly telling him stories of how she had narrowly escaped one disaster after another. He was never entirely sure what the Ministry wanted her to research; it was if she was an extension of the unspeakables and he could tell it was taking a toll on her health.

The summer after the Basilisk in the castle had been destroyed (by Saint Potter) found Severus outside of the cottage door wondering why Esme hadn't come out to meet him, as was usual.

He cautiously opened the kitchen door, wand at the ready, and stepped into chaos. Dishes were everywhere, the cauldron was boiling over, and the place was an utter mess. It looked like a magical cyclone had gone through, smashing and tossing furniture, books, clothes - anything and everything. He moved to get the cauldron off the magical fire and vanished the contents and the flames before looking around some more. The air was stale with overcooked food and the smell of sickness.

The trail of destruction led into the parlour. He followed it calling her name when he heard a thump and moan coming from the bedroom and rushed over to open the door. He found her unconscious on the floor, having apparently fallen out of the bed. Casey was sniffing her face and taking swipes at her nose with his tongue.

Severus gently picked her up and placed her back on the bed. Merlin's beard, she must be down three stone! He quickly assessed the situation. She was burning up with fever, her breathing was laboured and congested and her skin was mottled red and white. There was evidence of her vomiting as well. This room, too, appeared trashed. He knew the signs and symptoms and also knew he needed to get her care quickly, but flooing her to St. Mungo's or Hogwarts was out of the question. It would just make matters worse.

He summoned a cool cloth to wipe her down, changed her nightgown and did quick cleaning charms on her, the bed, and the rest of the room. She moaned in her delirium and tossed back and forth on the bed. He tried a cooling charm on her in an attempt to bring her fever down, but her magic bounced the charm back to ricochet around the room, tossing things around that he had just finished straightening. He decided to use the cloth again and freshening it, laid it on her forehead to help cool her down while he went to the fireplace in the parlour. Casey hopped on to the bed as he left and lay down on her chest purring and staring into his mistress' face as if willing her to wake up.

Throwing some powder into her grate, Severus announced, "Dumbledore's office," and stuck his head into the fire. He was in luck that the headmaster was still behind his desk.

"Severus, what's the matter? You just left." Dumbledore walked to the fireplace when he heard the professor call for him.

"Esme - Dragon Flu - very advanced. Need medicines from Pomfrey's office," he snapped out.

"Of course. Go on back, son, I'll bring them straight away. Poppy's already left for her grandchildren's..." but Severus had already popped out of the fire.

Dumbledore hurried to the Infirmary and located the potions and salves that his potions master would need. Reducing them for carrying and stuffing them in his robe pockets, he rushed back to his office and flooed to Miss Scott's cottage.

Absently wiping the soot off, he crossed the room to the open door where he heard Severus murmuring charms over her.

"How is she?" he inquired, handing the bottles to Snape.

"Not good. She's been unconscious the entire time and I don't know how long this has been going on. She's been complaining of being exhausted all year. The last message I had from her was a month ago. She is throwing off every cooling charm I try to place on her." He indicted the mess in the room with a waved hand. "Apparently she is unable to control her magic."

He accio-ed a cup from the kitchen and began to dribble the potions, one by one, into her mouth. Nothing happened at first and he started wondering if he had misdiagnosed.

No, there was a shudder. Her breathing was becoming less ragged and her limbs started to relax. As he watched, the flush on her skin began to diminish and take on a normal hue. He tried a cooling charm again, this time it adhered.

Dumbledore silently handed him the salves and he began to apply them to her parched skin.

"The fever's going down," Severus noted some time later. "She's starting to feel cooler."

"We got to her in time then," Albus said. Looking around the room and not seeing a chair he drew one up out of thin air and got Severus to sit down. "She'll be fine now, but I can almost guarantee she won't wake for another day or two. I'm going to send over one of the school elves to help you."

Severus just nodded, keeping one of her hands caught in his while his eyes were glued to her face.

Dumbledore cleared his throat to catch the teacher's attention. "I think Minerva should know..." he started.

Snape snapped his black eyes to the headmaster, shaking his head vehemently. "No, I can tend to her with the elf. Minerva does not need to know about this - not right now," he paused. "Sir, she does not know about us."

"After nine years!" Dumbledore was incredulous.

"It's never come up! And Esme never told her either," he sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Sir - Albus - please, don't tell her. Esmerelda can let her know after she's recovered. By then I'll be gone from here if Minerva feels the urge to visit."

"Alright, I'll abide by your wishes for now, since she is out of danger." He walked over to Severus' chair, laying a hand on the other mans shoulder in commiseration. "I'll go send an elf over. Give her more potions every three hours until she wakes up."

"Thank you, sir, for everything." He had reclaimed Esme's hand. Dumbledore gave the shoulder another squeeze and walked out to the parlour's fireplace.

A few minutes later a Hogwarts house elf appeared beside the bed.

"What's your name, elf?" Severus asked wearily.

"Wizby, Professor, Sir," she said with awe making her bulbous eyes even larger. "I'm to help you care for your Essie." She started looking around the room. "I is starting by cleaning, Professor, Sir?"

"Yes. And after that, a tray of tea," he said as he stood up. "I'm going to go unpack. She should stay asleep, but if anything happens come upstairs and get me immediately." He scowled down at the elf to impress upon her this request. She backed up a step, clearly overwhelmed by this menacing professor.

"Of course, Professor, Sir," she said nodding to him as she began to quietly clean the room.

He headed upstairs to the guestroom. Ever since that first summer visit he had kept his things in her room. With her so ill, though, he felt it was probably better to sleep upstairs for the time being. If I even get any sleep.

He could hear Wizby cleaning downstairs and sent a heartfelt thank you to his headmaster for the forethought.