Love's Healing Touch

Disclaimer: If you're looking for JK Rowling she isn't here right now. I'm afraid she stepped out for a moment and I'm just playing with her characters while she's away.

Written for the Guilty Pleasure challenge

This story is part one in a series of four known as Scabior's Rose - In Sickness and In Health.
The others are, in order, Complicated Healing, Fevers & Fears, and Night of Silence.

A gentle rain was falling on the forest canopy, tapering off to a faint drizzle as it filtered through the lush leaves of the tall redwood forest. The grey skies overhead hid any sign that the season was gradually turning from spring to summer, as late spring raindrops spattered the fresh flower blossoms budding throughout the woods.

A series of loud sneezes suddenly broke through the steady sound of lightly falling rain, followed by a string of muttered obscenities from within a tent under a tree near the river. Moments later, a young witch with shoulder length dark brown hair and green eyes pushed aside the heavy curtain that separated the bedroom area from the rest of the tent.

"Scabior, is everything alright?"

The leader of the Snatchers shot an angry glance towards the woman who had just entered his bedroom. "Get out of 'ere, pet. I'm in no mood."

Draconius Rose rolled her eyes and eased the curtain aside as she walked towards the bed. "Good morning to you too, darling," she said. "So sorry to bother you, but I couldn't help but notice that you've been sneezing your head off all morning. This is the fourth time you've gone into a sneezing fit this morning."

"I'm fine," Scabior insisted, hiding the moist handkerchief he'd been blowing his nose on by hastily stuffing the sodden rag behind his pillow. "I don't need you acting as my personal mediwitch."

"But that's what I am," Draconius reminded him. "That's why you always bring me with you. To help take care of you and your men when one of them gets sick or injured."

Scabior watched as she sat down on the side of his bed and reached out to feel his forehead.

"You're not even a Snatcher," he said, leaning back so he was out of range of her hand. "You shouldn't be out 'ere. It's too dangerous."

"You always say that. But nothing ever happens to me. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. Just beause I'm a healer doesn't mean I don't know a few good hexes."

"I mean it," said Scabior, now glaring at her.

Draconius smiled. "Only because you care about me enough to be concerned about my well being. And besides, what could go wrong with you here? I have the bravest, most cunning Snatcher of them all for a husband."

Scabior's features softened. He enjoyed having his ego stroked, and he knew that she was right about how much he cared about her. He couldn't argue with her this time.

Scabior and Draconius didn't have what anyone would consider a perfect marrige. They argued and had disagreements...a lot. Mostly due to how stubborn Draconius was and how impatient Scabior was. Sometimes their fights would cause Scabior to storm off in a fit of rage, and one of his men would have to find him and convince him to return to camp. But no matter how angry Scabior got at his wife he still adored her. She was his minx and she always would be.

"Now hold still for a minute," said Draconius, leaning closer to him as she reached towards him once more. "Your face looks a little flushed. I think you may be coming down with something."

In a flash Scabior seized hold of his wife by the wrist, his reflexes still quick despite the possibilty that he was becoming ill. "Keep your 'ands off me. Those things are bloody cold, princess."

"I didn't hear you complaining about how cold my hands were last night," Draconius said softly, a seductive smile on her face.

"Flirt," Scabior grinned, releasing his hold on her wrist. "Just do as I say an keep your 'ands to yourself. There's nothing wrong with me."

"But I thought you didn't like it when I kept my hands to myself," Draconius crooned, placing a hand on either side of him as she leaned over him.

Scabior groaned low in his throat as she sat down on his lap, straddling him as she whispered in his ear, "If you really are in good health, then perhaps I should put my hands all over you again tonight."

"Yes, I'm your naughty little Snatcher. You'd like to touch me like tha, wouldn't you?" said Scabior, feeling his body beginning to react to having her weight pressed against him.

Draconius slowly ran a hand over his bare chest and said, "You're the leader of the Snatchers. So if you want me, try and snatch me." She then leapt off the bed, pushed the tent flap aside and ran out.

"No one escapes from me!" said Scabior, launching himself off the bed as he gave chase after her.

Draconius laughed playfully as she glanced over her shoulder and saw Scabior running after her, barefoot and wearing nothing but his purple plaid pajama bottoms.

She knew that he was coming down with something. Draconius was a healer and she'd been around Scabior long enough to know when he was ill. But Scabior was always too stubborn to admit when he wasn't feeling well. He'd deny it until there was no other explanation for his symptoms. So Draconius decided that a quick run through the rain would be enough to get him to admit that he was unwell.

She ran between the trees, through soggy clumps of wet grass, and jumped over a fallen tree branch or two. She could hear Scabior's footsteps pounding the earth behind her, his breath coming in short rasping pants as he tried to keep up with her. Then suddenly he was gone, vanishing in an instant as they neared the top of a small hill in the woods.

Draconius skidded to a hault, nearly slipping in the mud that had formed at the base of a tall tree. She looked everywhere for her husband, turning in a circle as her eyes scanned the surrounding area for any sign of him.

Before she knew what was happening, Scabior reappeared right in front of her, and she jumped up and shrieked in surprise.

"'Ello beau'iful," Scabior said. Seconds later he pinned her back up against a tree as he captured her mouth with a kiss.

Unable to stop herself as she gave into her passionate desires, Draconius slipped her tongue into his mouth, pulling him closer as she ran her fingers through his wild and unruly hair. Scabior then suddenly backed away, turning his head as a fit of coughing overtook him.

"I knew it," said Draconius. "You are sick."

"An being out in the rain isn't 'elping, pet," Scabior wheezed. "I still caught you, though."

Draconius put her arm around her husband. "Come on, Scabior. Lets get you back in the tent and into some dry clothes."

Several minutes later, Scabior was shivering and covered in several layers of blankets as he sat in bed. He was wearing a full set of warm pajamas (not just the bottoms this time) and was starting to feel somewhat nauseous.

"If I'm ill then you're going to get sick as well," said Scabior. "I kissed you, an I'm sure tha wha'ever I 'ave is probably contagious."

"Oh, finally admitting that you're sick, huh?" said Draconius.

Scabior sniffed. His nose was starting to run and his body was aching and exhausted. "I said if I'm ill. Emphasis on the word if."

Draconius gave an exasperated sigh. She waved her wand over him and spoke the words, "Fahren temporo."

Thin red whisps of smoke slowly issued from the tip of her wand. The smoke floated into the air above him and formed the numbers 101° before dissolving after a few seconds.

"Care to explain that, Scabior?" Draconius queried. "You have a fever."

Scabior groaned and fell back against the pillow. There was no getting out of it now. He had to face facts that he was truly ill, which meant the next couple of days would be filled with all the things he hated the most - staying in bed, being waited on hand and foot by his wife, and foul tasting potions that were sure to make his taste buds want to shrivel up and die.

Draconius sat down on the bed beside him and began her examination, checking him over to see what other symptoms he might be trying to hide from her. However, there were some things he could not hide from her as her examination soon revealed the full extent of his illness.

She unbuttoned his pajama top, placed the tip of her wand against his chest and softly spoke the incantation "Kardia pulmo sonorus." The spell she cast was like creating an invisible stethoscope, allowing her to listen to Scabior's heart and lungs.

"Take a few deeps breaths," she told him. "Slowly."

She listened to his lungs, noticing how conjested his chest was. She then moved on to examining his throat, which she found to be somewhat red and sore.

"It's a good thing I took my anti-flu potion this morning," she said upon finishing her examination. "You have a full blown case of the flu. And if it weren't for the potion I took, I'd most certainly end up catching it from you. If you weren't so stubborn and took the potion as a precaution during flu season like I do, you wouldn't be sick right now."

"So I'm ill," Scabior finally admitted. "Who gives a damn? It's not like a simple case of the flu is going to kill me. Tha's why I don't take your anti-flu potion. I don't need it. My immune system is strong enough to fight off anything in a few short days."

"Just because the flu won't kill you doesn't mean you shouldn't take some time off from work. You need to rest."

"Bullshit. I'm the leader of the Snatchers. I 'ave a job to do. Those mudbloods aren't going to snatch themselves, you know."

"I think you can survive missing a few days of work. Besides, if you go running off now you'll only end up making yourself feel worse. And then it'll take even longer to recover."

Scabior wasn't pleased with the thought of staying in bed and taking time off from work, but he didn't really have a choice. He knew that she was right, that his health would continue to deteriorate if he didn't take care of himself. So he reluctantly decided to stay in bed and take the next few days off and rest.

.oOo.

As the sun rose higher into the sky and the rain increased to a steady downpour, Scabior curled up on his side in bed, shivering despite the burning heat that was growing in intensity as the day passed.

Draconius walked over to his bed and placed a bowl of vegetable soup on the nightstand beside his bed.

"Scabior," she said softly, sitting down on the edge of his bed. "I made you some lunch. If it's not enough I can always get you something else to go with it. Say perhaps some toast or crackers if you're feeling up to it."

"Hmm?" Scabior rolled over onto his back, his face flushed as red as the streak in his hair and his breathing shallow. He sat up, mumbling incoherently to himself.

Draconius looked at him with concern. "Scabior, are you alright?"

"Not awake..." he muttered. "Too 'ot."

Scabior looked at the bowl of soup and felt his stomach begin to churn uncomfortably. He still felt nauseous, but wasn't going to admit that to his wife. So he picked up the bowl of soup, sat it in his lap, and started eating.

Halfway through his meal Scabior groaned and set the bowl back on his nightstand. "Pet..." he said thickly, perspiration beading on his forehead as he held his stomach. "I don't...I don't feel so good."

Doubling over in bed, Scabior gagged and clamped a hand over his mouth, fighting the urge to vomit as his lunch began to rise up into the back of his throat.

Draconius immediately realized that her husband was on the verge of being sick. But since she lacked the skills necessary to conjure a bucket (or anything else since her conjuring abilities were so poor), she quickly looked around the tent in search of a something that would prove useful in the current situation. She then spied a small waste paper basket beside her husband's desk, which she seized and thrust under Scabior's chin just in time as he began to vomit the remains of his lunch.

For several minutes Scabior retched and gagged, the forceful contractions of his stomach muscles causing him to dry heave into the waste basket long after his stomach was empty. He then lay back in bed with a weary groan of exhaustion once the waves of nausea finally subsided.

With a brief wave of her wand Draconius vanished the contents of the waste basket, then placed the basket beside her husband's bed in case he needed it again in the near future. She took the bowl on the nightstand to the small kitchen area of the tent, and returned moments later with a different bowl filled with cool water and a washcloth.

Despite the burning heat in his body Scabior was shivering as Draconius pressed the damp cloth against his forehead.

"How are you feeling?" Draconius asked.

"Oh lovely, pet," Scabior replied sarcastically. "I'm freezing an sweating my arse off at the same time, an it feels like my innards are plotting to rebel against me."

Draconius dabbed at Scabior's face and brow with the cloth. "I'll get you a fever reducer and an anti-nausea potion."

The ailing Snatcher watched as his wife summoned a small bag from inside the bottom drawer of her dresser. She opened the black bag, revealing several small vials and bottles containing different types of potions.

As Draconius selected two vials, one containing a pale azure liquid and the other colored emerald green, Scabior felt his stomach lurch as a second wave of nausea gripped his insides.

"'Ow am I supposed to drink tha when I can't keep anything down?" Scabior asked.

Draconius pondered the situation for a minute. During the time she'd spent working at St. Mungo's hospital, she'd been taught how to administer potions to a patient who was too ill to keep down anything they'd consumed.

"There are two different methods I can use," said Draconius. "Either the inhalation or intravenous method."

Scabior looked somewhat perplexed. He'd never heard of anything like that before and asked her to explain what each method was and how it was preformed.

"For the inhalation method, I use a spell to heat the potion enough that it vaporizes. All you have to do is breathe in the steam from the potions, and it enters your body and starts working to make you feel better. This method is also useful for clearing nasal and chest congestion. For the intravenous method, I make a small incision in your wrist and cast a spell to send the potion directly into a vein."

Scabior winced and drew back. He didn't like the sound of the intravenous method. "I'll use the inhalation method, princess. I'd rather not be cut open just to get a few potions in my system."

"It'll take some time for the potions to take effect," said Draconius. "They will enter your bloodstream slowly that way. You'll probably have to wait about an hour for them to take full effect and start feeling some relief."

"I don't care," Scabior grumbled irritably. "As long as it works an doesn't involve cutting me open then tha's wha I choose."

"Alright then. Just give me a few minutes to get everything set up and I'll begin the treatment."

Draconius brought him a small bowl and a towel from the bathroom. She had Scabior sit up in bed and placed the bowl on the bed between his legs. She poured the emerald green anti-nausea potion into the bowl, then tapped the side of the bowl with her wand to heat the potion until it started to steam. She then handed Scabior the towel, and instructed him to place the towel over his head to seal in the vapors then lean over the bowl inhale deeply.

"Just take deep breaths continually for about five minutes. When the five minutes are up, we'll move on to the fever reducing potion."

Scabior unfolded the towel, placing it over his head and gripping the corners of it as he held it open at the sides. He then leaned over the bowl and began inhaling the vapor from the potion.

"This stuff stinks," he complained, taking a whiff of the potion.

"If you think it smells bad, I can assure you that it tastes much worse," his wife said. "Would you rather drink it instead of smelling it?"

"No."

"Then be grateful you only have to smell it for a couple minutes."

Ten minutes later, Scabior was lying back in bed with a damp cloth draped across his fevered brow. He'd finished his inhalation treatment and was attempting to rest while waiting for the potions to take effect.

Draconius sat in a chair beside his bed, refreshing the damp cloth in a bowl of water whenever it became warm. She tried taking his mind off how bad he felt by softly singing to him. Before long the sweetly soothing sound of her voice made Scabior's eyelids heavy, and after a couple minutes he'd fallen fast asleep.

Once he was asleep, Draconius decided to take his temperature again and found that it had risen to 103°. Scabior's condition was slowly getting worse. All she could do now was wait for the potions he'd taken to kick in and start working.

Seeing that Scabior was resting comfortably for the time being, Draconius got up and walked into the kitchen area of the tent. She was hungry and it was past time for lunch. So she made herself a sandwich along with a bowl of soup and some pumpkin juice.

Just as she was finshing her meal, she heard footsteps walking towards the kitchen. She looked up from her lunch and saw Scabior standing infront of her.

"'Ello beau'iful," said Scabior, a silly grin plastered across his face.

Draconius' eyes widened as she looked at her husband. Scabior was wearing nothing but his plaid scarf. Everything else was on full display.

Scabior, being the attractive man that he was, was rather easy on the eyes. And since he and Draconius had been married for a few years now, she had certainly seen him nude before. But this sort of behavior was very unusual, and Draconius began to wonder if Scabior's high fever was making him delirious.

"Scabior, sweetie, why aren't you wearing your clothes?" Draconius queried.

"It's too 'ot. I don't wanna wear clothes," Scabior replied.

"Honey, I really think you should put your clothes back on and go back to bed."

Scabior giggled and staggered sideways, his scarf swirling around his waist as he leaned against the kitchen table. "I told you no. I'm 'ot. An it's a beau'iful sun shiny day, love." He leaned down low enough that he was eye to eye with his wife. "Try an snatch me," he whispered in a seductive tone.

Draconius gasped as Scabior burst into raucous laughter and ran from the kitchen.

"Scabior, get back here!" she exclaimed as she ran after him.

Thanks to the magic that was used on Scabior's tent, the head Snatcher's living quarters contained not only a kitchen and bedroom but a bathroom and small living room as well. Draconius chased her husband through their bedroom and into the living room with Scabior laughing the entire time, his scarf trailing out behind him as he ran butt naked through the tent.

"Scabior, stop! You should be resting in bed," Draconius called after him as the swift Snatcher leapt up onto the couch.

"No, Scabior bad kitty!" Scabior cried. "'E does wha 'e wants. Bad bad naughty kitty!" And with that Scabior transformed into his animagus form, his body shifting and changing as he morphed into a large lynx.

"Please don't do this," Draconius pleaded. "You're going to make yourself sicker if you keep this up. You need to rest."

Scabior playfully swatted her hand as she tried to pick him up and take him to bed. He then leapt up onto the back of the couch, stumbled and crashed down onto the floor.

When his wife looked over the back of the couch, she saw Scabior lying on his side, groaning. He had changed back into a human, his body aching from the fall. Draconius then went around to the back of the couch and knelt down beside him.

"Scabior, are you alright?" she asked softly.

Scabior was shivering again despite the fact that he was still burning up with a fever.

"I thought cats were supposed to land on their feet..." he muttered.

"Come on, sweetie," said Draconius, helping him up off the floor. "Lets get some clothes on you and put you to bed."

Before long Scabior was fully dressed in his pajamas and resting in bed, his scarf draped over the back of the chair near his desk. And this time Draconius decided to lay down in bed with her husband, because she knew that would help encourage him to stay in bed. It was also a good way for her to keep an eye on him in case he decided to try streaking through the tent again. Soon they were both fast asleep, with Draconius' arm wrapped around her husband as she held him close.

Later that evening when they woke up from their nap, Draconius took Scabior's temperature and was happy to report that his fever had gone down to a mild 100°. He looked better than he had earlier in the day. And although his appetite hadn't quite returned yet, he was able to keep from getting sick when Draconius brought him some crackers and soup for dinner.

"You should be feeling much better in another day or two, and be back to your usual self again," said Draconius, watching as Scabior finished the last of his soup and reached for another cracker.

"But wha about you, pet? Are you sure you feel alright?" Scabior asked.

Draconius looked somewhat puzzled by question. "I'm fine, Scabior. I took my anti-flu potion so I won't get sick."

"Yes, I remember tha. I also remember you telling me to put my clothes on an get to bed. Normally when you want me in bed you want my clothes off first."

Draconius chuckled and a sly smirk spread across her husband's face. She leaned down and placed a kiss on Scabior's cheek.

"We'll have plenty of time for that when you're well," she softly whispered in his ear.

Scabior's smirk widened into a small smile. "I look forward to it, my lovely. We 'ave a lot of catching up to do."

A/N: I was never fond of the idea that a healer could somehow "spell" a potion into someone's system when they were unable to drink it. I've seen this happen in many Harry Potter sickfics, and despite it being the wizarding world I just don't see that as being possible. How do you "spell" a potion into someone anyway? So I went for the steam inhalation method instead.

And while I will admit that the intravenous method of administering potions might not be entirely believable since healers aren't supposed to cut people open in the wizarding world, I imagine that under extreme circumstances they may resort to using a method such as this for administering potions.

Hope you liked my story and found my alternative methods for administering potions believable. Please review and let me know what you think.