This is just a little companion piece to my main on-going story arc, Unchained Love. Severus/Poppy fluff, but more than hints of darker goings-on.
Thank You
Poppy surfaced slowly from an exhausted slumber. She found herself at her desk, head pillowed on crossed arms, chest sore from where it was pressed against the edge. Oh, damn. Not again. She really had to stop doing this. It was hardly helpful to her constitution, not to mention highly undignified.
She paused in her thoughts as she sensed another's presence in her office. Not a malevolent one, though, and she could tell. Any Healer grew to know well the dark spirits that moved through this world. This one was familiar, comforting, and living. But it was damaged. She frowned, focusing in the darkness. Someone injured had entered her sanctuary, but had refrained from drawing attention to themselves. Well, there was only one person that could be.
'Severus?' she called softly. A moment later a faint light, emanating from a wandtip, drew her attention to one side of the room. She smiled. Of course. He always did choose the armchair. Only twice in her entire career had she succeeded in getting him into a bed, and both times he had been unconscious. Not that he'd stayed, mind. But she'd gotten him there.
Sighing, she pulled herself up, grunting at the lingering stiffness, and made her way over to him. The light showed exactly nothing. Ingrained caution, even in a place that was theoretically safe, would not let him abandon the habits of a hunted man. 'You are hurt?' he asked softly. For a moment, she was confused, then realised that he must have heard her groan. She smiled gently. 'No. Just stiff. You?' Silence answered her. 'I'll take that as a yes, then?' He sighed. 'I'm sorry. Habit. It's not too bad, though.' She snorted derisively. She knew what his idea of 'bad' was. His idea of bad meant death's door. Anything short of that, up to and including mutilation, and he'd probably brush it off. Or try to. Not on her watch, though.
'Show me,' she commanded gently. Silently, she counted to ten. The light grew, showing her the hollows of his face, the reflection of the light in his onyx eyes. Her heart gave a queer little flutter, for despite his obvious distress, she could not help but find him beautiful. Not that she'd ever tell him. Not that he'd ever acknowledge that he felt the same about her. But then, she supposed they didn't need to have it acknowledged. What they had was enough.
The light kept growing, until it outlined his entire form. She frowned. He was too thin. He had neglected to eat again. Or maybe his master had ordered him not to. Lucius could be like that, sometimes. Voldemort, not so much. That master at least knew that Severus was more useful healthy. She supposed she had to be grateful for that, but she hated the lot of them anyway. Dumbledore too. Speaking of which.
'Have you been upstairs?' He nodded. 'Does he know you're hurt?' He turned his head away slightly. 'No,' he whispered. She knew he did not, but felt strangely compelled to ask. 'Do you ever tell anyone but me?' He looked at her curiously. 'No,' he said gravely. 'Only you.' She felt a tear threaten. He trusted her, and her alone. She was all he had. Such a terrible existence, yet she could not help but rejoice that she was the one he had chosen to trust. She loved him that little bit more, for that.
Gently she reached down to turn him over. The stiffness with which he had been sitting, his back not quite touching the chair, had alerted her to the source of his problems. At first glance, there was nothing wrong. Clean black cloth covered a smooth back. Then he dropped the glamour charm, and she stiffled a gasp. Shredded robes. Blood. Darkened lines criss-crossing the broken skin. For a moment, she stood, swallowing her anger that someone could have done this. 'Not so bad, huh?' He shrugged. She sighed. 'There are times when you worry me, you know?' He chuckled wryly. 'Only sometimes?' She snorted. 'Alright. Just about every day, then. But heh, it's not so bad, huh?' He was silent. She gathered her equipment, and went to work.
Roughly twenty minutes later, she was done. The raw wounds were cleaned and dressed, and he was wearing some new robes. She patted his healing back gently. 'You're done. You going downstairs? Or are you going to stay here tonight?' She stood back to let him rise. This he did, slowly. He turned to her, raising a hand to lay it gently against her cheek. 'I'm sorry that I worry you,' he said. 'I'm sorry that you are hurt because of me. This life, it's not my choice. I have to live with it. But ... you do not. I will stop bothering you, if you wish.' She stilled, reached up to clasp his hand. 'Oh, Severus. No. Please don't do that. I can't ... I would go mad if I didn't know what was happening to you. I'm ... so proud that you trust me. Please, don't withdraw from me. Then you'd be alone, and I couldn't stand knowing that I caused that. Please.'
He stared at her, swallowing. Tears welled in his eyes, but a gentle smile hovered over his lips. She smiled back. 'May I sleep here tonight?' he asked. She nodded, conjuring a blanket for him. He took it wordlessly, and turned to settle down on the chair. She moved to leave. She halted at the door as he called to her. 'Poppy.' She turned back. 'Thank you.' That was all he said. But she understood. 'Your welcome, Severus,' she whispered. 'Always.'