Fevers & Fears
Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling and I don't own her characters. However, the OCs are mine.
A special thanks to Anna Fay for helping me come up with some great ideas for this story. The magical leech treatment and Scabior's phobia was entirely her idea. So thank you, Anna. You've been a big help.
I'd also like to thank alyssialui for letting me use one of her spells in this story. Later on in this story, a spell will be used that makes the skin transparent, allowing the healer to see inside the body. That was alyssialui's idea.
This story is part three in a series of four known as Scabior's Rose - In Sickness and In Health.
The others are, in order, Love's Healing Touch, Complicated Healing, and Night of Silence.
The early morning sunlight was just beginning to shine through the trees. A pale sliver of light shown between the flap on Scabior's tent, casting its light on the two figures sleeping in bed.
Scabior rolled over in his sleep, placing an arm around his wife as she slept peacefully beside him. A smile creased the corners of her mouth, and her eyes slowly fluttered open.
She watched him for a moment while he slept, his chest rising and falling with deep, easy breathing. Strands of red and brown hair hung down across his face, his mouth slightly open as he slept.
He looked so beautiful, lying there asleep with a thin ray of sun shining across his face, highlighting the red streak in his hair. Draconius played with his tangled tresses, letting the soft strands wrap around her fingers before easing his hair out of his face.
"Scabior," she said softly. "It's morning, sweetie. Time to wake up."
Her husband shifted slightly, yawning as he stretched his legs beneath the soft burgundy sheets.
"Good morning," said Draconius, watching as her husband's grey-blue eyes opened and gazed at her in the early dawn sunlight.
Scabior leaned forward and placed a kiss on her lips. "Morning, love."
"Well, aren't you feeling affectionate," Draconius said with a smile.
Their lips met and they began to kiss, until Scabior suddenly backed away, wincing as he held his stomach.
"What's wrong?" Draconius asked.
There was a dull ache in the area of his navel. Scabior hadn't noticed it right away until a sudden abdominal cramp drew his attention away from his wife.
"It's nothing, pet," he said, massaging his belly in an attempt to ease his stomachache. "Bit of a mild stomach cramp is all."
Draconius sat up in bed. "Would you like me to get breakfast started? Or do you want to take your morning shower first?"
"Neither," Scabior replied. He gently eased her back down onto her side so she was facing him in bed. "Let's 'ave a bit of a lie in first. I'm sure the others won't mind if we're a bit late for breakfast."
It wasn't until after breakfast that Scabior started feeling sick. He didn't have much of an appetite, and after finishing his meal he felt slightly nauseous. The pain in his stomach had also gotten worse, going from a dull ache to a painful cramp directly behind his navel.
Holding his stomach as he got up from the table, Scabior glanced over at his wife, hoping she wouldn't notice his distress. The last thing he wanted was another lecture on his health and how he didn't take proper care of himself.
He went outside and called his men out to join him. The weather outside was cold, and there was a layer of fresh snow on the ground. Most of his men had gone inside to stay warm. But the cold had little effect on Scabior, who was starting to feel a tad warm.
Once his men had gathered outside, Scabior began discussing this morning's plans with them, telling them who their latest target was and where to find her. He wasn't about to call off the search just because he had a stomachache.
He set out into the woods with his men, and for a while everything was fine. But as the day progressed, Scabior's stomachache continued to worsen.
Within hours of leaving camp the pain intensified and moved to the lower right side of his abdomen. Walking and running only made it worse. And by the time they'd captured their target muggleborn, Scabior was on the verge of being sick as the remains of his breakfast began to rise in the back of his throat.
He tried to maintain a professional appearance, going through the usual routine of asking the woman's name and sorting out her identity, making sure that they'd snatched the right person. This muggleborn also happened to have a friend with her, which required more time to sort out because Scabior didn't know that there was anyone on the run with her.
According to the information he'd been given, she was supposed to be traveling alone. He hasn't expected anyone to be with her.
Scabior held out for as long as he could, fighting against the urge to be sick as he stood back and let Isaac interrogate the prisoners. The pain in his stomach had doubled since this morning, and any minute now he knew he was going to expel the contents of his stomach onto the forest floor.
He began backing away from his men, knowing that he was about to be sick. He didn't want to draw attention to himself. But as he ducked behind the nearest tree and began to vomit into some nearby bushes, Scabior knew that his men were well aware of what was happening. One of them even called out to him, asking him if he was alright.
"I'm fine," Scabior groaned, leaning with his back against the tree as he held his stomach. "I think something I ate disagreed with me. Maybe my breakfast was spoiled."
He hated them seeing him like this. He was their leader, the one they looked up to and took orders from. He wasn't supposed to get sick on the job, his insides twisting with such horrendous pain that he could hardly move.
Scabior narrowed his eyes, glaring at the many faces that were staring at him. "Do not, under any circumstances, tell my wife about this," he rasped, his body shaking with feverish chills as perspiration beaded on his brow and trickled down his cheek. "If you do, an I find out about it, I will flay your 'ide to doll rags for disobeying my orders."
When they returned to camp later that afternoon, Scabior still wasn't feeling any better.
He approached his tent, and cautiously eased aside the tent flap before peering inside. Scabior hoped his wife wasn't somewhere nearby so she wouldn't see what shape he was in. For although he had gotten better about going to her for some things, such as whenever he was coming down with another throat infection, he still avoided her and refused medical treatment when anything else was wrong with him.
Unfortunately, there was no getting away from Draconius today. And sure enough there she was, sitting in a chair in the living room reading a book.
She looked up from her book and smiled. "Scabior, you're home," she said pleasantly, happy to see that her husband had returned. But the smile quickly faded from her face when she saw that he was slightly bent over with one arm wrapped around his waist.
A low groan escaped his lips, and Draconius rose from her chair, looking at him with concern.
"Scabior, what's wrong?" she asked, reaching towards him to feel his forehead. "Your face looks a little flushed, sweetie."
Scabior ducked, dodging her attempt to check him for a fever. But the sudden movement caused a sharp pain to pierce his side, and he cried out, clutching his stomach as he bent over double.
It felt like a knife was stabbing and twisting his insides. And to make matters worse he felt a sudden wave of nausea rise up in his throat, along with whatever was left of his breakfast that hadn't been expelled earlier that morning.
This was too much. He had to get out of there. He couldn't allow his wife to see him like this. And any second now he was going to lose what little remained of his breakfast.
Scabior pushed past her, moving as quickly as his aching stomach would allow as he practically ran to the bathroom.
Falling to his knees in front of the toilet, Scabior just made it in time before he became violently ill. His body was shaking, sweat poured down his face, and every heave of his stomach felt like someone had focused the Cruciatus curse directly at his lower abdomen.
He collapsed onto his back when the vomiting ceased, lying there for several seconds as he fought against the growing darkness that was clouding the edges of his vision.
He'd never felt anything like this before. Scabior had been hungover from drinking too much, and he'd gotten sick from consuming too much alcohol, but this was different. He didn't know what this was. The words "stomach flu" and "food poisoning" drifted lazily through his mind as he lay on the bathroom floor, but he couldn't be sure if that was the cause of his suffering.
'Actual poisoning,' he thought. Scabior felt bad enough to consider it. 'But who in my lot could 'ave done it?"
Gripping the rim of the toilet with one hand, Scabior pulled himself off the floor into a sitting position. His sight was swimming and he was burning up with a fever. Maybe a cool shower would refresh him and make him feel better.
'Yes,' Scabior thought. 'Tha does sound good. But first I 'ave to wait for everything to stop spinning...'
He sat on the bathroom floor for several minutes, his head bowed and his eyes closed, trying to will the room to stop spinning long enough for him to stand.
When the dizziness finally passed, he stood up and started removing his clothes. He cautiously stepped into the shower, hoping he wouldn't suddenly become dizzy again, and turned on the water.
The cool water felt good against his feverishly hot skin. He let the water pour over his head, then cupped his hands, filling them with water and splashing himself in the face. Scabior breathed a sigh of relief, feeling his senses awakening as the water refreshed and revitalized him. Perhaps he wasn't so sick after all.
'I better 'ave a simple stomach flu,' he thought. 'If tha isn't it, then maybe all my drinking 'as finally caught up to me an my liver is starting to rot.'