A/N: And here's where I go back to my roots (so to speak). Welcome returning readers.

Chapter 8

A few weeks later I was scurrying down the hall in the dungeons when I heard a sound that made me stop short. It sounded like a sneeze echoing off the stone walls. But the only one here was Snape and somehow I couldn't picture him sneezing. It was a bit too human.

As I rounded the corner and saw him through the open doorway rubbing at his nose, I was convinced.

"Sorry I'm late," I said, bursting in. "Millie was intent I get one of each type of sandwich and they didn't have that many already made."

"Millie?" he asked, looking up.

"House elf," I answered setting down the tray and pumpkin juice. "So please at least try the chicken one so I can assure her it was worth the wait."

He stared at the plate for a moment before choosing a chicken sandwich and taking a bite. While he chewed, I glanced him once up and down. I noticed a hint of fatigue crossed into his features that I had never seen before.

"What?" he snapped, looking back at me.

"Are you all right, sir? You seem a bit tired."

He sniffed derisively. "My sixth years are idiots. Grading these papers is giving me a headache."

"Oh," I sidled up beside him and pulled the papers forward while speaking. "Then why don't I do these and you work on the first years? They seem pretty bright."

"That's relative," he snorted but obliged, starting in on a new set of exams.

I took my usual seat down the table and we began to work; in silence, of course. After a few minutes of grading I noticed that he had stopped writing. I looked up to see he had raised his head as if studying something of interest floating in the air before him. I followed his gaze and saw nothing. I glanced back at him.

"Um, Professor?" I started to ask. I was interrupted by Snape whipping his head forward into tightly controlled, but very strong sneeze. Oh.

"Bless you."

"Thank you," he said quietly and got back to his work.

Nearly twenty minutes later he sneezed again and I broke my rule of only blessing a person once per visit. He thanked me again, but this time more curtly and I began to wonder if he was embarrassed.

The third time he sneezed he actually turned around in his chair, directing the explosion of breath into the floor.

"Professor," I asked, hesitantly.

"Yes, what is it?" he snapped.

I gulped. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

"I'm fine," he barked. "Have you finished those papers?"

"Yes sir," I whispered, passing them forward. He surveyed the parchments for a moment before waving a hand at me. "You may go then."

My heart sunk as I rose to leave. One of these days I'll learn to keep my mouth shut, I thought. But I supposed the damage was done so at the doorway I turned back once more.

"You take care of that cold, sir," I told him swiftly before departing.

Chapter 9

I looked around again to make sure everything was tidy and stocked. It had been a very slow evening and Madam Pomfrey had told me I could leave after I'd finished refilling the supplies. I headed towards her office to ask again if there was anything more I could do but stopped short at the door. Her voice was raised almost to a yell, a sure sign that someone was disrespecting her authority.

"I'm not going to stay here with the students," came a deep voice I didn't recognize.

"There aren't any students here just now. And you can have your own room anyway, just down the corridor," Pomfrey's voice was shrill and angry.

"I can sleep just as well in my quarters."

"Just but that's just it. You won't sleep in your quarters. You won't get the rest you require and you'll only become more ill."

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," the faceless voice rose in volume until it cracked on the last word. A thick and heavy coughing erupted and sounded so painful I winced.

"You're being absurd, Severus," she continued, raising her voice as footsteps began to drop and move further away.

Severus?

I darted through her office to where she stood in the doorway facing the figure retreating down the hall. A large vein popped out on her head and she balled her fists as she watched.

"Fool," she growled.

I rested my hand on her arm.

"Let me try," I said soothingly. And then I took after him. He kept a strong pace and I only just caught up to him in the hall outside his quarters.

"Fancy meeting you here," I called out as he reached for the doorknob.

He whirled around and glared at me. His cheeks flushed pink and his eyes squinted painfully.

"Did she send you after me?" he asked hoarsely.

"Essentially," I said moving closer. In a rare moment of boldness I reached my hand up to his forehead and rested it there a moment before he jerked away, looking disgusted.

I managed not to react to the cooking heat radiating from him. Leaning over his arm that still clutched the doorknob, I pushed the door open the rest of the way.

"Go on then," I gestured into the room.

"What are you doing?" he asked warily.

"Don't argue with me, Severus," I tried to make my voice as severe as possible. I must have succeeded a bit because he looked taken aback at my tone. He walked into the room and I followed.

Amidst all the other thoughts bouncing through my mind I couldn't help but pause for a moment at the thought of being in Severus Snape's bedroom. Immediately after entering, there was a small sitting area with a couch and a small kitchenette off to the left. Far behind on the right, through an open door, was a large bed swathed in thick black blankets. Everything was black or a beautiful bottled green. All in all it was much prettier that I would have imagined.

He stood to the side staring at me with a seething intensity. I tried not to quake under his stare.

"If you go and lie down," I told him, "I'll bring you something for that fever. Is your throat sore? I could mix in a Cooling Potion in as well."

He said nothing.

"You may as well tell me," I sighed. "I'm going to make you take it no matter what and I'd think you'll want to get as much out of it as possible."

"A little," he answered finally, swallowing.

"Go lie down then," I said. "I'll be back in a minute."

With that, I rushed back to Madam Pomfrey who gladly helped me assort a collection of useful potions.

"Are you sure you don't mind staying with him?" she asked.

I assured her I did not and she smiled sadly.

"That's wonderful. I mean, it's far above your job description but he really is quite ill. Now hurry back before he decides to lock you out."

She pushed a basket into my arms and I sprinted all the way back. Snape had ignored my request and now sat on his couch, perusing a Potions text. He eyed me stonily when I returned.

"All right then," I said, trying to remain cheerful. "This should calm your fever and coughing and cool your throat."

He took the vial from me muttering under his breath. It may have been thanks but I suspected it was just as likely a swear word. He dashed it down with one quick gulp and didn't even flinch, although I'm sure it tasted horrible.

"Now then," he said handing the vial back to me. "Are you done playing nurse? Will you leave me alone?"

"Nope," I said, forcing a smile. Putting on the air of bravery, I crossed the room and sunk into a large arm chair. I reached for an old copy of The Daily Prophet and lazily leafed through it, doing my best to pretend I didn't see Snape glowering at me.

"So you're going to just stay here, then?" he asked, his tone seething.

I glanced up as though only just noticing him. "I'm going to stay here," I told him, indicating the living area. "If you'd like privacy I believe there's a very comfortable bed available in the next room."

"And I'm to expect you're not going to follow me?"

"Oh, I'll check up every so often. But you really just need to sleep. I don't imagine my presence will do much for that."

He started muttering again. This time I was sure I heard a swear word mixed in with some comment about how useless my presence was to start. Soon though, his muttering changed into a fit of that deep and painful coughing I had heard earlier.

I went swiftly to the kitchen where I found a glass. I filled it from my wand with ice water and hurried back to him.

He was coughing too hard to show any real sign of reproach and took the glass from me willingly. He took a few long draughts and then slowly inhaled, as though to ensure the irritation had left. Tears stood in his eyes and he trembled as he put the glass onto the table.

"Please Professor," I said in a low voice. "Please try to get a little sleep."

His eyes met mine again, and I could see they had lost some of the ire. He nodded slowly and then rose. And then he started to fall.

I stood quickly up beside him, wrapping my arm around his lower back.

"What did you put in that potion?" he barked.

"Nothing that would act this quickly," I replied, concerned. I reached again for his forehead and this time he did not pull away.

"Your fever's spiking," I told him. "We need to get you into bed immediately."

He let me help him to his bed, all the while shivering. After I helped him lower himself onto the comforter I summoned a basin and washcloth from the bathroom. I filled the former with another stream of cool water and dipped the cloth in it. Gently I rung it out and laid it across his burning forehead.

He winced as the cool water hit him but kept his eyes closed, almost as if trying to hide from me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know that's uncomfortable. When your temperature goes down though, it'll start to feel good."

"Learn that at the Muggle school did you?" he croaked irritably.

"Rest your throat," I shushed.

I dipped the cloth again and ran it gently over his forehead and temples. Slowly, almost imperceptively I noticed the muscles in his jaw relaxing and his head sinking deeper into the pillow. After a quarter of an hour his shivering had stopped completely. I dropped the cloth into the basin and withdrew my wand.

"Celciate," I said quietly, pointing it at his head. A dark, swirling mist issued out the end of my wand forming the numbers 38.1. Much better.

I put my wand away and turned back to see him looking at me. His large eyes were dripping with fatigue. There was no hint of the usual anger they held, instead a definite trace of shame.

"Your fever's gone way down," I told him. "You had me worried there for a minute."

He nodded.

"Thank you," he said. It wasn't the first time he'd thanked me, but it was surely the first time he hadn't dropped his head and lowered his voice as though it hurt him.

I smiled. "Sleep now," I said. "I'll bring you something to eat in a little while."

"You really needn't stay," he said uncomfortably.

His tone made my heart ache. I longed to brush his hair from his face, kiss his forehead, and assure him I would stay as long as he needed me. Instead I only smiled again.

"Sleep now," I repeated. And I left quickly before I could do him the disgrace of seeing him fall asleep.

SSSSSSSS

In the moment I felt the distinctive beginning of Snape's convalescence. It would be trying, I was sure but this first concession was a big step for him. Hopefully it would become easier in coming days to get him to accept the help he needed.

Now I surveyed the sitting room again, wondering how best to pass the time while he slept. It didn't even occur to me to leave but I felt uncomfortable staying. I knew that, were he more aware, my unsupervised presence would incense him. I resigned myself to the thought that I would only touch those items in plainest view, not even daring to browse through the mini-fridge or lift the periodicals to see the ones underneath.

With this rule in mind, I plucked the first book from the shelf that held the remotest interest for me, Regional Plantlife in Everyday Potion Making- Northern Great Britain. I curled up on the small sofa and starting flicking idly through it.

I had only started to drift off from boredom about an hour later when there was a knock on the door. Throwing the book down, I rushed to answer it before the sound could wake my patient.

But Dumbledore waited quite patiently in the hall, holding a steaming cauldron and humming faintly to himself. If he was surprised to see me answering the door, he didn't show it.

"Good evening Headmaster," I blushed. I, of course, was unable to hide my surprise.

"Hello Miss Pendergraft. How are you this evening?" he said conversationally.

"I'm goo- well. I'm well, thank you. And you?"

"Very well," he answered politely. "Although I'm sorry to hear Professor Snape can't say the same. How is he?"

"Sleeping," I said. "His fever's down a bit, so that's good."

"Glad to hear it," he said merrily. "For my part I brought him some soup."

"Chicken noodle?" I asked, peering into the cauldron.

"Cock-a-leekie," he corrected me and chuckled at my expression. "Very similar though."

"That's very kind of you, sir," I said and took it from him.

His eyes twinkled as he looked at me.

"And it's very kind of you to stay here with him," he said.

I blushed again. "It's pretty much my job," I said with a shrug.

"Well I'm sure Professor Snape appreciates your work ethic."

"I imagine he'd appreciate my absence more," I said scornfully.

"Don't be so sure," Dumbledore answered with another meaningful glance. As he started to turn away he called back. "And please, if he enjoys the soup make sure you tell him I made it myself."

"And if he doesn't?" I laughed.

"I'll deny ever being here."

I chuckled as he disappeared down the hall. When I reentered Snape's quarters I could hear him moving in the bedroom. I crossed quickly to him, hoping to stop him from rising unnecessarily.

"Oh good, you're still here," he said sarcastically as I came in. His head lay listlessly against the pillow almost as though he thought my presence didn't even warrant eye contact. I was willing to bet, though, that raising his head was proving to be a very difficult task.

"You missed Dumbledore," I said, ignoring the insult.

Now Snape jerked into a sitting position. "What did he need?" he asked rapidly. "And why didn't you wake me?"

He closed his eyes as he spoke, surreptitiously waiting out the dizziness that must have arisen with his sudden movement.

"Sit back," I instructed firmly. "The headmaster only wanted to see how you were feeling. And to bring soup." I lifted the cauldron for him to see.

"Oh." He seemed unwilling to concede but sat back again anyway.

"Have you eaten today?" I asked.

"No," he said. His tone was withering as though daring me to ask another question. So I did.

"Yesterday?"

"A bit." His mouth stayed almost completely closed when he spoke. It was actually impressive.

"Besides the half sandwich you ate while I was in your classroom?"

I took his silence as a 'no'.

"Would you like me to feed you?" I asked sweetly as I filled a bowl newly summoned from the kitchen.

"Don't be ridiculous," he spat. With great effort he pulled himself up and reached for the bowl. When he lifted the spoon I saw his hand tremble. A bit of the soup dripped off the spoon and he let it fall with a clatter.

Immediately I felt guilty for teasing him.

"Here," I said gently, reloading the spoon and holding it to his lips. He reluctantly opened his mouth to let in a sip of the steaming broth. Admittedly it smelled pretty good. By the way his lips turned up when he swallowed I imagined it didn't taste half bad either.

Generously, I decided to change the subject from the task at hand.

"It's pretty amazing to think of someone as important as Dumbledore making soup. I mean, you'd think he would consider these things to be beneath him."

"They are beneath him," Snape said quietly after a third bite.

"I don't know that," I said thoughtfully. "It's pretty great that he cares so much about people."

"He cares a bit too much," Snape said with a sigh. I frowned and waited for an explanation. I didn't get one, though, but his eyebrows remaining furrowed and I knew he was still thinking about it.

As I held out the spoon for another bite he raised his hand as though to block me. I was confused for only a moment before he whipped forward with a quick and violent sneeze. The steaming soup spilled everywhere.

My first thought was fear that he had burned himself. My second was pain when I realized only I had been burned. The skin along my right arm became quickly red as I hurriedly mopped the broth off.

I looked up to see an expression on Snape's face I had never before seen. His eyes crinkled in pity and his cheeks flushed with shame.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled thickly. "I'm so sorry."

I tried to smile through the pain.

"It's okay," I said lightly. "It's not that bad."

He ignored me, instead looking tiredly at the burned area. Slowly he turned to his bedside table and pulled the washcloth I had used earlier to wipe his brow. He handed it to me and I gratefully draped it over my arm.

The relief was instantaneous and I sighed. When I looked up at him again the emotion was once more masked on his face.

"If you didn't insist on being an interfering brat you wouldn't be burned right now."

He looked startled when I laughed.