Severus never got sick. Maybe once, as a child. Maybe. But never as an adult. Never as a student at Hogwarts, and never as it's teacher. Well, he was never sick in a way that showed. At least, when he was sick, he made sure no one noticed. But, now...ugh. Now he was sick, real sick; from his reddened and raw nose to his cold and sore toes. It had started as a sneeze, really.
"Gods! All the worst colds start with sneezes. And it's always one sneeze, too. You'll be fine, going about your day, teaching a class, when-ACHOO! Then it hits you. Like an iron cauldron full of iron...and sickness! Might as well drown myself in one. Be done with it."
*hacking cough, followed by pathetic moaning*
When Severus Snape got sick, he also got cranky. A hot, sweaty, snotty, coughing, moaning, moping, shivering ball of ill humor sort of cranky. The kind of cranky that Lucius was a sucker for. He hated that term, sucker. It sounded rude, and a little bit dirty. But, as a friend had once pointed out (and this friend will remain nameless) ever since his school-boy days he had always been irresistibly drawn toward the sick. It hadn't mattered who was sick, well it did, I mean, he wouldn't just go running off to take care of some Mudblood, but, even he had to admit, a sick Muggle-born was a pathetic Muggle-born. Pathetic in a sexy way. Wow, even Lucius knew how bizarre that sounded.
He, attracted to a Mudblood? Weird.
What was also weird was his fascination (fetish) with the sick. It was almost like a compulsion, he just had to check up on them. He had to bring them soup, or water, or a book, or something. Anything. It was this bizarre compulsion which kept him as far away from St. Mungo's as he could get. Even if he was ill, he never went. He knew he'd find himself stumbling around, trying to heal the sick like some sort of twisted, limping savior. He'd barely made it through school, keeping the barest of grips on his arrogantly cool detachment. A detachment that Severus saw right through. It had made him despise Severus, for seeing so clearly through him. It had also made him adore him, but just a little. He did have an image to uphold; a family name, a fortune. He couldn't go around just adoring anybody, he knew. He barely adored Narcissa, as it were! Oh, but Severus, that was such a different story.