Disclaimer:

All characters in the story are the property of J.K.Rowling and Bloomsbury Books, with the exception of Eleanora Sterling, who is my own creation.
This story is created purely for the entertainment of myself and other like-minded readers.
I make no money from doing this, so please don't sue me!

Author Note:

Gentle readers, please forgive any minor liberties I play with the Hogwarts world and its inhabitants. The pursits among you will no doubt find many minor errors in facts, setting, tone, but hopefully not in character.

Also it has come to my notice that here is another author out there who used the pen name Grey Lady. I chose my name unaware of this; if she minds horribly I will change my pen name if it's not too late. In the meantime let me go on record saying that this is the only fiction I have posted here and I do not mean by using this name to lay claim to any other works written under the pen name of Grey Lady.

- Grey Lady

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Chapter 4: Beauty's Kiss


I returned to my chamber and tried to rest, but my thoughts were too agitated to allow sleep. Something about this Severus Snape had me hooked and I did not understand why. It was as though something had gotten under my skin while I was helping him.

Three hours passed without a promise of sleep and I decided to return to Snape's bedside and relieve Madame Pomfrey for a while. She was snoring slightly in her chair, her head resting uncomfortably on her chest. I coughed lightly, not wishing to make it obvious that I had caught her napping. She awoke with a start. "Nora!" She exclaimed. "Is it morning already?"

"No Poppy," I said gently, helping her up from her seat. "I couldn't sleep and thought I might as well take the next watch. You go and get some rest yourself, and you can relieve me in the morning."

"Yes, well," she yawned, "I'll be off then. Just remember while you are keeping vigil to try to send every good thought you can in the patient's direction. Oh." She suddenly had a thought. "If he should wake, summon me immediately." She indicated a small object on a nearby table that resembled a silver thimble with an amethyst cupped in it. I nodded; I knew that all I had to do was hold it in my hand and she would be here directly.

"Good night, Madame Pomfrey."

Once she had gone, I settled into the comfortable bedside chair and watched my patient sleep. He did indeed seem to be sleeping now, and his face was definitely less agonized than before, though I could tell from his eye movements that he was in the grip of some vivid dream. His brows seemed to be knitted into a perpetual scowl and the corners of his mouth twitched occasionally into a sneer. Perhaps, from what Poppy had told me about him, that was his customary expression.

However, I was pretty worried about his mental state. I wished in vain for an EEG, something that would show brainwave activity and at least give me an inkling as to what was going on in his brain. Wizard medicine is great for most healing physical injuries but some things are just not possible to heal or diagnose by magic alone. This was why, in spite of all the healing arts and potions available, we still lost a few patients. Well, I had to be philosophical. They still lost a few patients in real world hospitals, where I had trained and worked for several years as a Muggle doctor.

I thought I'd try to see if I could detect anything from a simple touch. Gently I laid the index and second finger of each hand against the patient's temples. I could definitely feel a pulse, even and regular. That at least was a good sign. Concentrating a little harder and placing my fingers around the back of his head I tried to see if I could detect any actual damage in the brain's tissue... aneurisms, tearing, nerve dysfunction but felt nothing out of the ordinary. If there was trauma here it seemed to be emotional, not physical. That too was probably a good sign of an eventual recovery.

I laid my head down closer to his chest and listened to his breathing. It was still shallow and irregular, restless sounding. From this position I thought I heard him whisper something, but so faintly I had to put my ear next to his mouth to hear it.

"It's my fault all my fault shouldn't have told him Dead, because of me dead Why did I do it? Why?"

Ravings? A clue to his mental state? I studied his face again. Something about my touch had definitely agitated him. His lips worked in a silent rage against himself, it seemed. That had not been the case when I first began to examine him.

I watched, aghast, as the tirade against himself became more strident.

"Lily Lily forgive me... James I was your friend. How could I turn against you?" and again, "Lily please, please forgive" he implored.

"Severus" I whispered. "I forgive you. Listen to me. Whatever it was you did, you didn't mean it. I forgive you." Maybe this was something a bit of therapeutic role-playing could fix? But I was feeling a bit lost here.

"Lily... my darling is it you?" I started to feel a bit guilty, doing this. Who was this Lily person, anyway? Did I have any right to be impersonating her? Too late to stop now. Obviously she was someone he loved a great deal. If I withdrew her imaginary presence now, what would that do to him?

"Yes, Severus, it's me, Lily. I hear you. I forgive you. I'm here with you." A tear slid down his cheek. And suddenly I was possessed by an insane urge to embrace him. I took him into my arms, lay across his chest and pressed my face into the side of his neck. His hand reached up to stroke my hair. I could feel myself begin to weep; we were both weeping, he for his lost Lily and I for him.

The next thing I knew my lips were pressed against his in a passionate kiss. I began to lose myself in the heat of it, a most unprofessional reaction, I had to admit. But the sensation of it had caused me to forget where I was for a moment.

And just as suddenly, I found myself being thrust away by strong hands gripping my shoulders, and looking into the blackest and most furious pair of eyes I had ever seen.

"What - the devil - do you think - you are doing?" he asked in a voice dripping with venom.

I stood up abruptly. "Ah. You are awake, I see. I must summon Madame Pomfrey right away." I struggled to regain my composure, wiping my dripping nose surreptitiously with the cuff of my robe.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked in a voice of silky menace.

"I'm Eleanora Sterling. I am your - um - nurse. You are in the Hogwarts' infirmary."

I reached out for the summoning charm on the table nearby and it flew to my hand. Clasping it would bring Madame Pomfrey, and I assumed, Dumbledore, almost immediately. (Anything to get me out of this rather awkward spot!)

"You have been unconscious," I added, rather unnecessarily. " Remus Lupin and Hagrid brought you here." I heard a sharp intake of breath. "Remus found you in the Forbidden Forest - it seems you have had a run-in with the Dementors." I knew this last part wasn't exactly news to him, but he did seem a bit surprised to be where he was, and somewhat annoyed when Remus' name was mentioned.

Just at this moment, thankfully, Poppy and Albus arrived. Poppy was followed closely by a house elf bearing a tray with what appeared to be a mug of hot cocoa and a large chunk of dark rich chocolate. I was puzzled until I remembered that chocolate was some sort of restorative indicated after an attack by a Dementor.

"How are you feeling, old man?" Dumbledore asked with what I thought was a false heartiness. "Bit of a close call?"

Snape grimaced in reply, and tried to shift himself into a sitting position on the bed. I could tell he was still weak and his arm seemed to pain him somewhat; not to mention the stiffness in his left knee.

Poppy offered the cocoa to him and he drank greedily. She was just offering him the chocolate when suddenly I began to feel very queer indeed. My lips had begun to tingle oddly and I was gripped by a feeling of nausea. I must have looked very strange because Snape threw me an odd glance, then seeing the direction of his gaze, Poppy looked up at me rather sharply. The nausea began to turn to a feeling of unbearable dread. Suddenly I realised the cause the kiss! Somehow I had taken on some of the Dementors' effect when I had kissed Snape.

"Um Madame Pomfrey I don't suppose I could have a bit of that chocolate... I - touched - Mr. Snape and I suddenly don't feel very well."


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NEXT: The Chocolate Cure