"WHAT in the name of Merlin's soft and salty sack is going on here?!"

The bellow was not a pleasant alarm, and after the night Narcissa had experienced, it was doubly alarming. She jolted awake, head already pounding and body tensed for flight. "What? Who…"

"My questions exactly!" Dr. Mirren was flush with fury. She closed the distance between the door and the bed in quick, wide strides, stood dominant and demanding over the odd pair. "This hospital...has been absolutely mad with worry over you, Narcissa. We have scoured the facility searching for you. And I find you here?! Of all bloody places!" She alternately seethed, shouted and sighed, fine hair flying as if to match her flustered wrath. "What the devil made you think you could trespass here? In another patient's room? Especially this one? You are…" She struggled for words, squeezed the bridge of her nose in shaking fingers. "You are out of line and out of control!"

"What the devil?!" Jane had swung into the room hot on Mirren's trail. "What is all this screeching?" She gasped. "Mrs. Malfoy!"

"Jane?" Mirren whirled on the assistant. "How is it possible Mrs. Malfoy has breached Mr. Snape's wards?"

"I - I -" Jane stammered, watching Narcissa with wide eyes.

"There were no wards," Cissa offered hoarsely.

"No. Wards." Mirren's eyebrow threatened to leave her face. She pointed at Narcissa, but hissed at Jane. "Get her out of here while I check his condition. Then I expect you in my office."

"Yes, Dr. Mirren!" Jane jumped to action, gathering a blanket around Narcissa and hurrying her from the bed. "Come on. Back to your room then."

"But -"

"Come on!" Jane was insistent, pushing Cissa through the door. Narcissa looked backward one last time at Snape - still unconscious on his bed. Mirren stood over him, wand raised and an expression of great concern on her face.

"What were you thinking?" Jane demanded. She huffed, settling Narcissa none too gently on her own bed.

"I was so cold," Cissa explained.

"Cold? Cold is no excuse to break wards and enter another patient's room, Narcissa!"

The headache had gone full blown. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "There were no wards!" She shouted with all the force she could muster.

"Yes, there were!" Jane shouted back. "There were because I raised them myself! Just like always!"

"Jane, please…" The argument was sapping her energy and the cold had already permeated her heart. "I've no bloody wand. How would I break your wards?"

Jane paused her violent pillow-fluffing. "That's true…" She considered. "But there is wandless magic."

"Which would be rendered useless to me at this juncture if I understand correctly."

Jane, forehead creased, dropped onto the bed beside Narcissa. "True." She looked at her patient. "Then how did you get in there?"

"I just pushed the door open."

"Why?" Jane had to know. "Because now I'm going to get my arse handed to me by my boss and your doctor who is not an easy witch to take one's arse from."

"He was so very warm," Narcissa whispered. Further explanations were elusive. Exhaustion claimed her. She pulled another blanket around her shoulders and fell upon the bed. Jane watched her repose, sighing heavily before tucking her in and leaving.

Mirren was already pacing behind her desk. She'd shed her white robes, revealing a set of dusky scrubs beneath. She flicked eyes at Jane when the nurse entered, but said nothing. Jane, head ducked, sat in the overstuffed chair across from her boss. A tense silence settled, both women looking alternately defensive and sullen.

"So." Finally Mirren spoke. "I assume our trespassing addict has been properly seen to."

"I took Mrs. Malfoy back to her room," Jane acknowledged. "Where she fell asleep."

"Did she say anything?"

The younger witch's lips pursed. She fiddled at a string hanging from her robe's sleeve. "She said that he was very warm."

"I see. And about the wards?"

A sniff. "She said that there were no wards."

"I see. And the wards on Mr. Snape's room are your responsibility, are they not?"

"Dr. Mirren I have never lapsed in raising those wards!"

"Not until now you haven't."

"I swear to you -"

"Jane, do not interrupt me -"

"She has no wand! No magic to break wards! And there were wards, dammit!" In a flurry, Jane stood and thrust her own wand at the doctor. Mirren took a surprised step backward. "Priori Incantatem," she snapped. "Test it yourself. You'll see I cast wards on Mr. Snape's room at approximately 10:20 last evening." She waved the cherry wood. "Go on! I'm no liar."

Mirren's thin nostrils flared. She looked at the proffered wand, then back to Jane's earnest, passionate face. Losing steam, she waved the wand away. "Put it up, Jane. I know you're no liar." She fell heavily into her leather chair. It rolled into the bookcase behind her.

Jane stowed her wand back in its pocket. Relaxed in her own seat. "I suppose it doesn't explain how she got in, though."

"No, it doesn't."

"Perhaps someone else -"

"I checked. No one else performed any spells in or near Snape's room. Nor did he have any other visitors."

"Hm." Jane stared into her lap.

Mirren stared into space. "There's another bit of mystery, as well."

"What's that?"

"His fever. When I checked him just now his temperature was normal. For the first time in weeks."

Jane blinked, leaned forward excitedly. "How is that possible? After all the tests? The potions, drugs, spells and -"

"I don't know." Mirren rubbed a tired hand over her face. "But it's already rising again. As quickly and highly as before."

"Hm." Again Jane stared at her lap. Her smooth face worked as her mind churned. "So… do you think it's possible that…" She chewed her lip for a moment. Mirren waited with narrowed eyes. "...that the Malfoy witch somehow...lowered Snape's temperature?"

Mirren's narrowed eyes widened. She seemed non-nonplussed, as if she'd already considered the possiblity. "That his inexplicable heat was somehow canceled out by her inexplicable chill?"

Jane shrugged. "I guess."

"Seems ridiculous."

Jane shrugged again. "But...his temperature was normal, you said. And we have tried everything."

Mirren huffed. "The doctor in me wants to call the entire notion...superstitious psychosomatic bunk. But…"

"But?"

Mirren smiled softly. Ran a hand through her tousled hair. "But the witch in me wants to believe it's magic."

Jane grinned. "So what do we do?"

Mirren groaned and dropped her head onto her desk.

Narcissa was sitting up in her pillows and rubbing her temples when the doctor knocked and entered. She cut eyes at the physician, an expression reading clearly: "I don't want any bullshit."

Mirren's return expression read clearly: "No bullshit here." She sat in the visitor's chair. Cleared her throat. "Your son is coming to visit you tomorrow."

Narcissa brightened visibly, but winced when she sat forward too quickly. "Ouch."

"Head hurting that badly?"

A scowl. "Nothing a simple potion couldn't cure."

"Potions cure a multitude of problems, Narcissa." Mirren frowned. "But they can cause a multitude more." She produced a small notebook from her pocket along with a quill. "You're doing well, believe it or not. That's why you get your visitor early."

"Even after my 'trespass' last night?" Cissa stressed the word sarcastically.

"I'd like to talk to you about that."

"If you didn't want anyone in there, you should have cast wards."

Mirren's lip curled. She glanced away. "That's another matter entirely. What I want to talk about is...not so simple. And involves a favour. Not something I usually have to ask of patients."

Narcissa was piqued. "What do you want?"

"I want you to go back."

"Back…"

"Back to Snape's room. Back to his side."

It was Narcissa's turn to look bewildered. "Why?"

"I can't explain it. At least not yet. Not until I know for certain."

"Then will you tell me why he's here?" Cissa asked quietly. "Because I - and the rest of the wizarding world - are under the obvious delusion he's dead."

Mirren tapped her notebook with the quill. "Listen to me, Mrs. Malfoy. Anything you know of Snape's existence here must remain here. It is of utmost, vital importance that he be our secret. Rest assured the proper parties are aware of his continued life, but his position is precarious on many levels."

"I understand that."

"His condition is...better than when he first arrived. Much like yours. I honestly didn't think he would live."

"He's unconscious?"

"We're keeping him unconscious for now, for his health. We've had difficulty controlling his temperature and...can't find the cause of the peculiar symptom."

"Oh." Cissa rubbed her arms beneath her blankets. "Is that why he was so warm?"

"Quite." Mirren leaned forward intently, studied Narcissa's face. "How could you possibly have felt that outside of his room?"

"I don't know." Narcissa shook her head. "I thought perhaps there was some sort of heating element inside."

The doctor chuckled. "Well. I suppose for you...there was."

"And now you want me to go back to him?"

"Only if you want to. I want to - need to see if there is indeed a connection. I need to know, Narcissa. As a doctor. As a witch. As the person who wants to save him. And you."

Cissa scoffed softly. "I think Severus is the one most in need of your salvation, Dr. Mirren."

"Oh, I've no doubt he needs all the help he can get." Mirren agreed. "But you need salvation from a far more insidious source: yourself." She ignored Narcissa's eyeroll. "If you'll agree to the experiment, I'm willing to negotiate a trade."

Slytherin sails fluttered. Narcissa quirked a brow. "What sort of trade?"

Mirren spread her hands beneficently. "Oh. How about unlimited visits from your son? Starting now. And access to the courtyard."

"I want to wear my own clothes."

Mirren's lips tightened. She hadn't bet on bargaining. Should have know better. "Fine. Your clothes during the day. Hospital gown at night."

"My own gown."

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Mirren swatted her own knee impatiently with her notebook. "Bloody fine."

Cissa smiled past her headache. Settled into her pillows again. She scratched at the insides of her arms. There was a disturbing rash spreading there. "Then I'll go."

"Thank you." Mirren looked as if she'd fought a particularly harrying battle. "Now. I'd like to talk about your progress. And...your addiction." She peered into Cissa's blanket fort. "I see you've gotten your rash." Narcissa folded her arms self-consciously. "It's a sign of the toxins beginning to leave the body. A good sign. I'll give you a soap and a cream to help with the itch." She flipped open her notebook and began jotting. "Nausea still?"

"Comes and goes."

"Appetite?"

"Also comes and goes."

"The headache. Constant?"

"No." Narcissa closed her eyes in demonstration. "Mostly the light brings it on...or my physician."

"Hm. Mutual." More jotting. "As your serotonin levels balance, you'll see an end to the headache, I think. The courtyard will be good for you. Now." Her posture indicated it was time for the difficult questions. "How bad are the cravings?"

"Cravings?"

"Don't treat me like an idiot, Narcissa. And I won't treat you like one. Agreed?"

Narcissa's eyes watered. She looked away. "I want it more than anything," she confessed. "It feels like the cure to everything that ails me."

Mirren nodded. "Any more hallucinations?"

"No. But the dreams… I feel like I can't sleep deeply enough to escape them. And sometimes…"

"Sometimes what?"

"Sometimes there are these shadows. They're awful."

"Those are hallucinations, Narcissa. They will abate as the hallucinogens leave your nervous system." Jotting. "Anything else you'd like to mention? Tingling? Numbness? Heart Palpitations?"

"Yes!" Cissa pointed. "There is tingling! And numbness. In my hands and feet mostly. But I think it's from the cold."

Slowly, Mirren lowered her quill and looked up at her patient. "This cold… I have to tell you you're the first patient who has complained of it."

"You still think it's psychochromatic."

This raised a rare grin. "Somatic. And yes, I do. But I'm still trying to decipher its source. I might consult a psychologist regarding your case."

"Glad I can be an entertaining puzzle."

"Yes, thank you for that at least." Mirren flipped her notebook closed. "You're on track with your recovery, just so you know. I told you you were a tough witch. You can do this, Narcissa."

"Can I?"

Mirren rose. Reached in her pocket and extracted a small silver-wrapped parcel. "Yes. You can. Here." She pressed the package into Narcissa's palm. "It's a anti-inflammatory pill. For your headache. You should only need one every four to six hours." She handed Narcissa the glass of water from her bedside table. "It will help, but you'll still have a mild ache I'm afraid."

Narcissa popped the pill from its metallic prison and gulped it desperately. She wiped her wet mouth with the back of her hand. "Thank you."

Mirren nodded sadly and turned to the door. "Whenever you are ready, you can report to Snape's room. I've informed the staff. And just so you know - there are wards." She looked back at Narcissa's quizzical face. "For some reason, you seem able to pass through them."

Cissa watched Mirren leave. She blinked for a few moments, considering the physician's words. Her rash itched. Her head throbbed. She yawned. Shivered. Wrapped her blankets more tightly around her shoulders.

With a strange mix of determination and resignation, she slipped from her bed. In the chest of drawers near the lav, she found her clothes neatly folded and withdrew her favorite nightgown. Soft linen. It felt - and smelled - like home. She cinched a flannel dressing gown over it, then re-wrapped in her blankets.

Her bare feet patted the shining stone floors as she made her way down the hall. Staff nodded politely or ignored her entirely. There was no sign of Dr. Mirren or Jane. This time, at the door marked CRITICAL, she felt the tell-tale shimmer of wards. But as Mirren had indicated, Narcissa passed easily through them.

Inside, she relaxed immediately. The dim light soothed her head, and she could feel Severus' warmth already. He rested so peacefully in his induced coma, paler than she remembered, but hair still the shiny black she'd mistaken for ink. Face full and creaseless, he looked younger than he had even in his youth. She approached his bed with caution as if she expected him to awaken and send her away. "Severus. It's me again."

She sat beside him. Her hip brushed his and she began settling in. "I'm afraid we're a bit of an experiment. Sweet goddess, you're burning up!" She curled into the few inches available before re-adjusting his arm beneath her neck. "Sorry. Mmmmmm." Her eyes closed. "Feels lovely…" Psychosomatic, my arse.

Warm again, secure, and free from the aching want, she slept and dreamed.