The Birthday Present
By excessivelyperky
Rowling: All hers.
Author's note: Thanks again to my glorious Britpicker, Snape's Nightie. Go read her stories! Also, a brief caution. This story was rated M for a reason, and a scene in this chapter is one of them. Snape receives a truly excellent and complete massage while he's in Switzerland. Any of you familiar with the phrase 'happy ending' should realize that this is a scene for adults. You have been warned.
Chapter 10: Swiss Miss
Albus Dumbledore
Albus Dumbledore amused himself reading the latest letter from Sybil Trelawney. As expect, she had found the silliest Muggles existing.
"Dear Headmaster--
"I have finished my stay with Betty Ford, and am now just traveling. I met the most interesting ghost the other day while in Malibu. He was a fairly nice fellow going under the name of Hunk-Ra and pretending to be an ancestral spirit so he could give advice to idiots. He told me he was haunting the woman (a rather nice one named Ms. Boopstein. Pity she seemed to be married) because she reminded him of one of his favorite concubines. He enjoyed scaring the wits out of the tourists and helping the woman rake in a lot of money.
"It is amazing how the poor things are taken in so easily by tricks even a Squib could manage. I look at people like myself from the outside and feel ashamed I've done the same. Really, you are kind to keep me on after my stupidity earlier this year. All I can say is that Madam Umbridge would drive Snape to drink.
"By the way, how is he? I've heard some rumors that his health isn't good. I must admit, it would be nice if curing him of whatever is wrong improved his temper. The Muggles have something here they call anger management therapy that seems to work for some of them. I took notes. Copious ones. Of course, I have learned a great deal about myself as well. It will be fun to teach without those wretched glasses or breathe in that dreadful incense. Do you think Firenze would be upset if I sat in on a few of his classes? (Schedules permitting, of course.)
"I haven't met many witches are wizards here in the States, though I suspect many of them are 'hiding in plain sight' as it were. I met the most pathetic little coven in one of the desert cities east of Los Angeles—the only one with any real power had a Scrambling Spell on her. I wondered at that till I learned that she had an extremely religious father, a Covenanter by the sound of him. You remember that tragic little incident with the Knox girl, don't you? Anyway, the woman I met had a keen, analytical mind rather like McGonagall's, only she had the terrible feeling that something was always wrong with her. Unfortunately, the spell had been there too long, and I doubt even St. Mungo's could get it off by now. A pity, really.
"But I digress. I shall be back in about a month, though I will owl you tentative lesson plans in Muggle Studies long before that. I am taking my time riding a 'Greyhound' across the country (a lorry, not nearly as nice as the Knight Bus). The few real witches and wizards I have found suggested several Muggle weapons of varying lethality for our little problem—"Hex them till they glow, then curse them in the dark" was one such phrase.
"I really am much better now. Our American cousins have a bent towards self-improvement that I think could be useful at Hogwarts. They also have a way of discussing personal topics out in the open that I found astonishing. I have collected several boxes of books which I am sending on ahead. Apparently some problems are common enough, at least among the larger Muggle population, that a small industry has cropped up to cater to them.
"I must admit that I have found some aspects of their work spiritually uplifting myself. Prophecy isn't everything. Sometimes one must take responsibility for events, and not merely letting them unfold.
"Ta ta for now,
"Sybil Trelawney"
A vague and gloomy Trelawney was one thing. A self-actualized and highly-motivated one was quite another. Albus realized he was looking forward to seeing how long any changes lasted. Then again, seers were not usually known for such forthrightness. A fully integrated personality rarely attracted prophecies of any kind. He smiled to himself. Back in the 1920's there had also been a craze for positive thinking and whatnot among the Muggles as well. He knew several of his contemporaries who had dabbled a bit in such things, and it hadn't really changed them. Yet Sybil was in a position where she was forced to do so. A complete break from Hogwarts had apparently done her a great deal of good.
He hoped that this visit to the clinic in Switzerland would do as much for Severus. Despite outward appearances of compliance, the Headmaster feared that Snape was once again locked in a negative spiral which had already had ghastly results a couple of times. The pressures on the man were enormous, far greater now than in the past, and nobody, including himself, was doing much to help.
He watched an owl come through his window. Oh, good, it wasn't a Ministry one. Dumbledore took off the gloves, thought about it, then put them back on. It had been a long time since anyone thought to poison whatever an owl carried, but he'd be a fool to assume no one had this time around. Severus had been quite right about the ink. It was fun acting befuddled whenever Fudge contacted him, though. They had to believe their little plot was succeeding, or they'd only try something else that might be harder to figure out. In the meantime, most Ministry correspondence went to Binns first. House elves weren't affected by the ink, apparently, and didn't mind holding the scrolls down so the ghostly Professor could read them. The History of Magic teacher had already discovered several interesting points worthy of further interest, and had been able to classify the rest.
He took the message from the owl. It was from the Institut in Geneva, where Snape was being examined. The note was noncommittal, as he had warned Magister Lowenstein that owl correspondence was not always safe any more, and mainly requested a Floo session sometime today. So far no one had been able to interfere with that. Dumbledore looked up at his clock, which held most of his appointments. One of its hands said, "Good time to call".
He might as well get a connection now. Foreign Floos were occasionally a bit fussy, but he reached the clinic's main office quickly enough. The receptionist promised to get her chief while he waited. Albus didn't mind the pleasant little pantomime that played itself out while he waited. Some of the Floos in the States, or so he'd heard, played commercials. He was glad that Britain had not yet advanced to such horrors, though he suspected that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes would be the first.
Magister Doktor Lowenstein, a dark-haired plump wizard beginning to go gray, put his head into the fire after only a few minutes. "Headmaster," he said with little accent. "I cannot tell you how glad we are that Professor Snape was sent to us. At first, we find it hard to believe that a wizard so young was so ill. But I have good news! Normally, we have a waiting list for several months for our detoxification program, but for this man we shall be glad to find a place for him now. The treatment is usually four months, but I fear it will be six at least for this man. After that he should not brew or teach for a year."
"That is an improvement," Albus said. "Back in the old days, a bad case of Brewer's Bog meant five years away from the cauldron. I just didn't connect it to Snape because he's still so young. I remember a paper on it by Stevenson, oh, back in '95 that analyzed the symptoms."
"I do not recall a paper so recent by anyone of that name," Lowenstein said.
"Dear me! I should have said 1895," Dumbledore replied. "I'll see if I can find a copy lying about somewhere. But I'm afraid Professor Snape has responsibilities that will keep him from being in a residential program. Do you have any outpatient protocols?"
"We are working on one, but that is for witches and wizards with only a mild problem. I do not think it wise to attempt it for someone with the professor's level of illness. Are you quite certain he cannot spend more time for treatment?"
"I wish it could be otherwise," Albus said. "Are you sure he really needs to stay there that long?"
"Oh, we shall be talking about him for years. Given what he has published, and the reputation of Hogwarts students that have graduated with his teaching, we should not be so surprised, perhaps. We are used to dealing with those my older brother's age or more. In fact, Klaus kindly agreed to be my first experiment. Well, kindly may not be the right word, but he was a great help in developing this regime."
Albus thought of something that Madam Pomfrey had mentioned to him. "Have you considered whether or not the use of Dark Magic, whether on or by the individual, could have an effect in making the syndrome worse?"
"That is a thesis my assistant Johann has proposed, but several tankards of ale were involved, so we have not listened to him much," Lowenstein said with a smile. "Of course we can look into it. We are, of course, doing a full physical examination and offering a relaxation regimen while your professor is here. I am certain your medical facilities are satisfactory, but I cannot help but wonder if we have all the records. The massage therapy did not go well."
The Headmaster blinked. "I'm surprised he allowed anyone to touch him."
"You see? Perhaps there is some trauma in the past, but it is not in the files. Our therapists are quite confidential, if that is a problem. Johann wanted to do a deep tissue memory spell once the masseur reported the existence of muscle and nerve shadows."
"I hope you didn't let him!" That spell often recreated the original event. Severus had endured too much already. "Even under complete sedation, it can go badly."
"Of course not. Your professor would never trust us again. As it is, we have discovered a nasty nightmare hex we cannot remove, though we have helped with the symptoms. Headmaster, perhaps you may wish to look upon your staff members? This one goes too deep for us to help with, which makes us suspect that it was inflicted on him by someone he does not guard himself again. We have helped him to rest the night without a potion, but he has high levels of Dreamless Sleep in his blood. We have finally gotten him to leave off putting up his own wards at night, which is progress, I am sure. He has also been overdosed on Veritaserum, but when this happened we are not certain, and he will not say."
"There were some…difficulties almost twenty years ago," Dumbledore said. "He was under suspicion for Dark activities, and the Ministry was occasionally quite hasty in their judgments." How much had Moody given Snape if the profile still showed its existence?
"I am surprised he lived through it. Your Ministry has a reputation which is not good at times. Some of us have been wondering if Britain is safe to visit now or if all foreigners should leave soon before they are suspected, too. I had a friend who went to your tournament, and no one could believe the stories he told us."
Albus didn't know what to say about that. He shifted the conversation back to Snape. "The professor has lived through a great deal," he said.
"Well, we need to know what," Lowenstein said. "Some of the potions he will need to begin the process have unfortunate side effects. This is why it is better to have him here, so his doses can be adjusted and others added if necessary. We have not ever had a patient who was required to brew, and never one who had to teach. That is the real danger, of course, for students will make mistakes. I have seen how well his graduates brew, even before their apprenticeships are chosen. I wish he could teach here, if he would consider doing so." The Magister looked wistful. "I would even enjoy watching him brew."
It was good to see that Severus was appreciated by someone. "We are aware of how lucky we are," the Headmaster said. But were they? "I am glad to see he's being cared for. Despite his ill temper, most of us here consider ourselves fortunate to have him. May I speak with him for a few moments?"
"He is probably sleeping. Since we did what we could with the nightmares, he has been quite…docile. I am surprised, really. His appetite has improved as well. We shall be sure he is feeling better once he becomes bored and tries to direct our research."
"Now that I can believe!"
"May we have his complete medical records, please? I fear the ones were sent have important omissions." Lowenstein looked unhappy.
"He tends to treat himself for most minor ailments," Dumbledore said, hoping to dodge the request. Yet was it right? Only the truth could help heal Severus now. "As you've probably learned for yourself, he's an extraordinarily private individual."
"He is not the first or the last," said the Swiss wizard with a sigh. "I want to avoid the muscle memory spell, yet I need more information about past injuries. If, for instance, he has ever been under the Cruciatus spell, there are lingering effects of that curse which are bad when our diagnostics are used in the wrong way."
Dumbledore took a deep breath. "I beg you not to use that spell. I will search the infirmary and find out if any records were inadvertently left behind. He has been under Crucio, though I don't know how many times. I was not here for most of the time last year, either. There were some administrative problems here at Hogwarts, and I had to deal with those. He's…he's been hurt badly enough already over the years. I absolutely forbid you to use that spell."
"Headmaster, you may be head of the Wizengamot, but we have our own rules for the welfare of patients. If you have knowledge that we need, it is best that you simply give it to us. I had already thought not to use that spell after what the masseur told us. We do not torture the helpless, no matter what they say in the physical therapy room. That was a joke," Lowenstein added. "But the potions we give can be dangerous to the patient if not properly formulated or supervised. If he is to be an outpatient, it can be much worse, especially if records are not being kept or get lost."
"I will do my best to make sure you get what you need," Albus said in surrender. "His family situation was bad, and his stay at Hogwarts didn't improve matters. He got himself in trouble that I still blame myself for. Professor Snape found his refuge in potions, and has made them his area of concentration since his early youth. As for his most recent activities, at this time I must invoke the Wizarding Official Secrets Act."
"And I, of course, do formally protest this Act," said the Magister. "What does this have to do with his health?"
"More than you think. His position is extremely delicate. As you probably know, we're having trouble with Riddle again. Professor Snape was once a member of his organization." He thought of something. "Did you ever hear stories of the Manticore when you were growing up?"
"Of course! Over the wireless and sometimes at my great-aunt's table." The wizard looked thoughtful.
"Professor Snape will die if too many secrets get out, and not of potions overload," Dumbledore said. "He plays a similar role these days. I'm risking his life by trusting you."
"But this means he cannot get the support that he will need in this regime," Lowenstein said. "The process causes great emotional upset in most patients. But this one cannot tell a therapist the full truth, for fear of revealing too much. For mind and body work together, and sometimes destroy each other. If you are the controller, you must see to his welfare all by yourself, yet still consider the mission more important. I must consider a patient alone, yet if I pry too deeply, I put this one in more danger." Then the younger wizard got himself under control. "It is easier to see why he cannot trust us."
Albus was glad that Lowenstein believed him, or at least hadn't thought of the possibility that he was being lied to in order to conceal what had been done to Snape over the years. Now he realized why he'd been tempted to allow Severus to manipulate the blood tests to avoid Ministry scrutiny. I must tell as much of the truth as I can now, he thought. Once I saw what the real results were, I should have realized that any decent healer would need to know everything, and not cover it up because I'm afraid of what people will find out about me. "It's hard for him to trust anyone," he said.
"It is good you have sent him to us," Lowenstein said. "It is an impossible task you have. As controller, you must send him to do things, take his knowledge, and then send him out again, and worry how long he can do this. My great-aunt was in the last war, and she pretends she is over the nightmares. How well does this professor work with the others who are allied with you? Surely he must not carry this alone."
"They are suspicious of him, and only believe him because they know I trust him. The enemy is getting wiser. They threw him a banquet last month. Magister, this can't go beyond the two of us, or you're condemning him to death." Dumbledore knew he was saying too much. Maybe he needed someone to confess to as much as Severus did.
"This is worse and worse. He must be very confused by now. I am able to treat only the potions overload, but you must find a way for him to get other help. You are his superior in too many ways. He cannot tell you what is wrong, for fear you will no longer trust him."
That matched with his perceptions. Albus knew how closed up Snape was these days. "I don't think he trusts me any more. I can't blame him. His legal status is in my hands as well, and I made the error of mentioning it to him."
"He is here at your word, when he clearly does not like it." The younger wizard glanced down at his watch. "I assure you, I will not let Johann do the muscle memory spell. But you must find out who gave my patient this nightmare hex, and make him take it back. We have relieved the symptoms for now, but they will return. It is not good for a man so exhausted to refuse to sleep without a potion. Only the person who sent the curse can take it back now, for it has gone deep." Lowenstein stared intently at Dumbledore as if he already knew who the culprit was.
Albus looked at the floor as the man's head vanished from the Floo. I won't be able to get into his mind to remove the spell unless I tell Severus why, he thought with a sinking heart. Perhaps I can have him come in and drop his barriers, if only for an hour or so. It's not good for any Occlumens to keep a mind divided for too long, after all. If he will trust me enough for that, I can pluck that set of nightmares out, at least. I'm afraid he's stuck with the rest.
The Headmaster felt better with that plan made. As for getting other help for Snape, he wasn't so sure he could manage that. Poppy had some training in mental healing, but she was already run off her feet with the demands of the school when the children were here. She already gave Severus as much support as she knew how to give, judging by the lecture he'd received not long ago.
I dare not involve St Mungo's, he thought. The place leaks too much already if even Pomfrey's friend can't keep a set of blood test results secret. On top of that, any hint of weakness on Snape's part could easily get him killed, or any therapist not in the Order kidnapped and interrogated. Then Severus would die. A Muggle worker couldn't be told the truth, unless she or he was Obliviated. Since the Potions Master would clearly need more than one session, that would certainly be a waste of time.
He did have a 'back door', as the Muggles put it, into Snape's mind. But using it would destroy all the barriers at once. If Severus were summoned before they could be rebuilt, the results would be disastrous.
Dumbledore went to the infirmary to consult with Madam Pomfrey. "The Swiss need all of his records, from last year as well as his student ones," he told her over a cup of tea.
She grimaced. "He won't like that."
"Lowenstein said they won't be able to compound the potions that Severus needs unless they know his true physical condition. I know what's in the student ones, and in the ones from Azkaban. Was last year really that bad?"
"His physical injuries were fairly minor, compared to everything else," Poppy said in a flat voice. "They caused him enough pain that he finally asked me to heal them. I really can't say more. I promised him that I wouldn't tell you. He said you'd be disappointed in him."
What did I send him to last year? He felt extremely stupid. Of course, overuse of a Time Turner caused problems, too. "I'm just happy he came back alive," he said. "His information was invaluable last year."
"Does he know that?"
"Probably not," he was forced to admit. "Please send the records yourself, Poppy, or I would be tempted to look at them. I'm obviously not good at helping him these days. Perhaps it's time for someone else to take over."
The mediwitch wanly patted his hand, but he could tell her thoughts were miles away. He didn't pry any further, though he really wanted to. Forcing Poppy to breach confidentiality, at least when the situation didn't call for it, would end her trust in him as well.
Severus SnapeThe Potions Master felt as if he'd been under sedation for the past few days, though he hadn't knowingly taken any potions. The first two nights had been unpleasant without any Dreamless Sleep. The little slumber he'd gotten had been filled with the usual terrors. The Magister had given him some ridiculous story about a hex, and one of the staff had muttered charms over him. After that, his dreams had become more placid, so he supposed that he could have picked up something ugly earlier in the season. It was nice not to fear going to bed. He'd better enjoy this while it lasted, as the horrific visions would undoubtedly return once he went back to Hogwarts.
It felt good to finally give himself over to the hands of the clinic's staff. True, the masseur had been unable to get him to relax, and some of the aides had fussed over the wards he'd put up the first few nights. But how did they expect him to sleep without a potion? He suspected they were putting something into his food or drink for now, but couldn't bring himself to care. I just hope the Dark Lord doesn't summon me while I'm here. That would be difficult to explain, although he had been told that he could leave the grounds for a few hours each evening to enjoy himself in town as long as he drank no alcohol or potions.
But anything could happen at a meeting, much of which would be impossible to conceal. It was all he could do to allow the masseur to touch him at all. Fortunately the therapist had taken one look at his scars and gone easy on him, but Snape simply couldn't relax under any man's touch. Apparently he'd lost the ability to force his muscles to loosen the way he'd had to do when with Lucius last year. That could cause problems if Malfoy ever left prison.
He sat in the sun room, ignoring the cooling cup of tea in front of him. Snape shook his head when he thought of the samples they demanded. Each day they took blood for tests. He grimly told himself that there was one set of bodily fluids they were not going to get! A good thing he felt so sleepy all the time or they'd hear his opinion on that. If they couldn't diagnose him with the blood, skin cells, hair, urine and stool samples they'd taken already, they were out of luck.
He shouldn't be surprised if they used Calming Potion in buckets around here. The staff here had clearly worked with other potions masters. No doubt keeping their subjects half-deadened was the only way to cope with people like him.
For now he was content to sit and sip his tea and think of nothing of all. His eyes slowly closed as he began napping in the overstuffed chair.
A few days later, he felt a great deal more alert and inquisitive. The aides were ready for his questions, and took him on a tour of the lab. Even though these men and women were obviously professionals, he still went on the alert in case a Swiss Longbottom had somehow managed to hide among the cauldrons here. He saw evidence of sloppy technique with one worker, and bit back a threat to take off points.
Then he had a mid-afternoon meal with Magister Lowenstein, and they talked theory for an hour. Snape finally remembered a Klaus Lowenstein, and his work with dyes and pigments, and felt better when the wizard told him how his older brother had managed the regime. Severus was surprised by the amount of food he'd gotten down, considering he'd had a good breakfast and a light lunch already. Normally one good meal a day and some bits that Dobby insisted on was the best he could manage. He drank the ale warily, and wished for tea instead, though there was nothing wrong with the flavor of the cool brown liquid. However, it turned out to be mild enough, and didn't trigger any the anxiety he associated with wine or brandy. Of course, given that he usually drank those at Malfoy Manor, he had good reason.
"So, you will be brewing the Wolfsbane Potion again this year, yes?" asked the Magister.
"Unfortunately. Remus Lupin is coming back to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. I will grant that he is more competent at the task than some we've had in the past." Then Snape finally realized something. Black was gone. He'd never be able to use Lupin as a weapon again. "He taught three years ago, but there was an unfortunate incident when he forgot to take his potion when I trusted him to drink it out of my sight. That won't happen again."
"We have only a few people who can brew it in Europe ourselves. It is too bad that it is so hard. There are werewolves all over the world who cannot find the potion no matter how much money they have."
"I ought to teach some of my students, then," Severus said, "if only so they'll have a guaranteed trade." He'd already begun with Granger and Malfoy.
"I do not believe any witch or wizard so young, so inexperienced, could learn such a complicated potion," Lowenstein said. "I fear you have an impossible task."
"You'd be surprised what I've taught them already," Snape said. He took pride that his students came out more advanced in Potions than in any other wizarding school.
"Yes, your pupils are sought after. That I will give you. But surely you overestimate them for this."
Severus leaned back in his chair and let his eyelids droop, as if he held his liquor so poorly that even this mild ale could affect his judgment. "I would back them against brewers twice their age," he said.
"Now let us be serious about this," the other wizard said.
"I'm willing to risk a few Galleons on it," Snape admitted.
It took them over a half hour to settle the bet. A thousand Galleons to be won by Snape if any of his students brewed a successful Wolfsbane Potion. He pushed for a time limit of next June. "You'll have the ability to manipulate what potions I'm taking for the next several months, so I ought to have some time to work on this without that to deal with."
Lowenstein reluctantly allowed the extra time, and Severus reluctantly pretended to be annoyed that the bet now involved only his sixth year students, not the seventh. He protested vehemently against the change, though secretly he was delighted. He had a much better chance to win with any class with Miss Granger in it. Knowing that Slytherin honor depended on it, Draco might actually pay attention to his studies, while Mr. Zabini could focus his scattered intellect on one subject at a time for a change. The Ravenclaws would be excited by the challenge, and the Hufflepuffs would be happy to help Mr. Lupin, who would no doubt be as popular as he was the last time he taught at Hogwarts.
This challenge would also promote the unity that the Headmaster spoke so adamantly about. Potter, and if he made the class, Weasley, would rather die than ruin Miss Granger's ambitions. Snape knew he'd have to take precautions against sabotage, but if any rewards were made contingent on successful completion by anyone, that shouldn't be much problem. Perhaps if there were only one cauldron? But he'd have to find a way for both Malfoy and Granger to participate equally or it wouldn't work. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs might appreciate some recognition, too. Still, four cauldrons would increase the odds of success by at least one of them.
Lowenstein finished his ale and smiled, clearly pleased with himself. "Oh, I almost forgot, Professor. I have arranged a treat for you. Your massage did not go well, and it is part of the process to have a good one. Gerta has a gentle touch and has helped the clinic before. She has a private office only a short walk from here. You will see her this evening." He handed Snape a car. "Then there will be the steam bath. You will have a vial for the sweat to fill."
It wasn't a request. Severus took the small pasteboard as if it were poisoned, but put it in his robe pocket, and even thanked the man with a semblance of civility. It will only be an hour at most, he thought. I'll be able to relax afterwards in the bath.
He arrived at the office just as the sun was setting. Gerta, a sturdy woman with auburn hair, came out to the reception room and bustled him back where she had the table set up. Snape undressed slowly, as he disliked feeling unprotected. The wards she set at his request were fairly strong. Fortunately she was quiet about his scars, though she gossiped on everything else that came to her mind. Her English was good, though heavily accented. He lay down, face forward, on the table awaiting the ordeal. It won't be as bad as before, he told himself. A woman never bothers me as much.
She began spreading oil on him with light feather touches. Her hands were warm and plump, while her chatter was soothing rather than irritating. That surprised him. Normally he preferred perfect silence, if only so he could hear someone's approach. Severus felt safe, which he wasn't used to any more.
The oil wasn't strongly scented, either. Someone must know his preferences. At that he felt suspicious, then decided not to make an issue of it. He had his wand in easy reach should he need it. Snape sighed with pleasure as she worked out a knot in his left shoulder.
Her fingers were careful on the scars, especially the claw mark on his side left over from the Shrieking Shack. Many of his injuries had had to heal on their own till he'd been able to see Poppy for them, though the mediwitch had done her best.
Severus had no idea that his body was so tense after a week of doing virtually nothing. As Gerta worked, each muscle she touched became looser. He'd forgotten what it was like to enjoy his body, and not just make it do what was needed.
Then she ran one finger between his buttocks and he shook with fear. "Not there," he said quietly. "I just wasn't expecting it." He deliberately tried to relax again, the way he had to with Lucius, and failed miserably.
"Ah. We begin again without the mistake." Gerta started at his neck and patiently redid her work of getting his muscles to lie down and be good. He gradually stopped trembling as her hands recreated their magic on his body. He tightened a bit as she worked her way down his back, but then she went directly to his legs. He was all right then.
Though his legs now felt better than in a long time, he realized he had one tense spot and was lying right on top of it. It was natural, of course. Gerta was an abundant woman, the kind he preferred, he was naked, and she was touching him. One reason he'd never given into Narcissa's wishes was that she was too thin, and would snap like a twig if he ever lost control of himself with her. But Gerta was the type who looked strong enough to keep up with him, if he ever let himself be swallowed by the red tide of lust that occasionally reminded him that he was still young by wizarding standards.
He sighed with joy as she rubbed his feet. Being on them all day in a classroom made him appreciate it when they were properly cared for.
"Roll over now, please," she said.
He hoped that his erection would not embarrass her. So far she hadn't used towels in strategic places the way some houses did.
"Ah, so the gentleman has brought a friend, has he?" she said with a smile. "A complete massage will be a bit extra."
"Yes," he said hastily. He had a few Galleons that he wouldn't mind spending in such a good cause.
She massaged the rest of him before going for the gold. He was so at ease now that he closed his eyes for the first time here. He didn't lose his arousal; in fact, being touched all over so sensually nearly brought him to completion without direct stimulation. Severus finally recognized the oil, one that increased the sensitivity of the nerves. Lucius had wanted to use it last year, but Malfoy was far too unpredictable in bed for that to be safe. But here, oh here, it was only delight with no danger at all. He let himself imagine that she was the one who massaged him, knowing he was so far away his thoughts could not soil her dreams.
He came almost instantly once she touched his privates. "Oh," he said with a gasp as he spent. "M—oh, my." Severus opened his eyes and didn't mind that Gerta was there, and not the woman he'd been seeing in his mind. They were much alike, really, and he should certainly be happy with reality now.
Once he had caught his breath, he said, "That was marvelous." He almost purred as she cleaned him with a warm, soft cloth instead of with a wand. He felt a minor tremor go through his body with the after-pangs, but even that was pleasurable. "I don't know how I'll get to the steam bath!"
"I will have to levitate you, then," Gerta said with a smile. She gently toweled the rest of him off.
"I'm certain you would do it right," Snape said, as he finally recovered enough strength to sit up. He began to dress.
Gerta shook her head. "Just the outer robe. You will have to take it all off anyway, and the bath is only down the hallway."
Severus opened his pouch and gave her all the money that was in it. "This is in addition to the bill," he said, not minding the extravagance.
"Well, I will not say you are too generous, but you are a gentleman," she said as she swept the coins into her hand. "There are ladies in this city who do not get as much. And here am I, as stout as a barrel."
"I prefer women of substance," Snape said, admiring the view of her neckline. Her exertions had caused her to sweat enough for her smock to cling to her flesh.
"Ah. Well, perhaps we shall speak again. But now, on your way to the baths."
He went down the hall to the sauna and steam baths, holding most of his clothes and the vial. A pity he hadn't thought of getting the sweat sample a bit earlier, but the oil would probably alter the results.
Not that he was complaining. Not at all.
Magister Allard LowensteinLowenstein sat by his Floo and waited for Gerta's report. Her head appeared in the flames right on time.
"You were right, Magister. He does not mind being touched by a woman," she said with a smile. "And I got the sample you wanted and were afraid to ask him for."
"That is good. Obviously, you were successful. Did you detect any muscle shadows?"
Her smiled faded. "Many of them, and they were deep. I was careful around his scars, some of which were magically induced and not allowed to heal for a long time. Even away from them there is damage below the skin. I have not felt such stored-up pain since the time we helped that poor gentleman who took so many Dark spells during the last war. I suspect this one has also had the Cruciatus spell done on him. Perhaps many."
The wizard nodded. That was in the records he'd received this afternoon. He was horrified by what was in them. The Headmaster of Hogwarts might well be telling the truth, though Lowenstein knew he hadn't heard all of it. The older wizard had looked fearful, as if he expected to be called to account. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "That is not good, Gerta. Some of these older witches and wizards who fought against Grindelwald are beginning to get some of the symptoms back as they age. They call it Post-Crucio syndrome, and it is most unpleasant." So far his great-aunt had yet to suffer from it, at least to his knowledge.
"I believe your suspicions about him having been assaulted are correct," she continued. "I touched him in an area where most men do not mind, and his muscles became like stone. It took quite some time before he could relax again. All through it, his hand was not two inches from his wand. No, not that one, Magister!" She showed her dimples. "I put up the strongest wards I know, and I still feel he thought them barely adequate."
"You should have seen the ones he put on his room his first two nights here," Lowenstein said. "He has doubts about his safety." And if Dumbledore was correct, had good reasons for it. "I hope his behavior with you was not…improper or frightening." Fortunately Gerta had had experience with traumatized men before, and could fling a Body Bind swiftly at need.
"He did not want to talk, but let me do so as long as I asked no questions," she said. "The poor man is starved for touch, though even with the oil it took longer than it ought for him to enjoy it. He made no suggestions, but was happy to accept mine, and did not misbehave when he could have reached for me. Afterwards, he was quite generous and said I was to his taste, so I do not think he will realize I was part of the examination process. He may wish to see me again."
Lowenstein nodded. "Only if you want to, Gerta. He sounds a bit of a cold fish."
"He is not that at all! I can tell, believe me. I think he only wants to be sure of his welcome first. In fact, I believe he almost said someone's name, but stopped himself, but I cannot be sure. If so, she is a lucky woman if she can see past his big nose." She grinned mischievously. "Oh, and it does not lie, either."
"It is not the size of the wand, but what one can do with it," he said.
"I shall owl you the sample now. He is due to go back soon, yes?"
"Tomorrow or the next day. I want him to get as much sleep as possible before he goes back. It will take us at least a week to decide what potions he should start on. I wish he could stay here for the complete program! I will have to convince both his Headmaster and him that he must see us once a week to start with, and every two weeks thereafter. He won't have much fun once the regime starts, I fear."
"Then it is well you sent me to him," Gerta said, and closed the connection.
The Magister saw that it would still be early enough to speak to Dumbledore. He requested the connection through his Floo, got past the safeguards by proving who he was and that he was not under duress. What was going on there, anyway? Surely this Voldemort had yet to make an open attack against any place that was truly fortified. Then he remembered hearing on a raid on the British Ministry of Magic, and realized that the Headmaster was only being sensible. Unfortunately, the man was not there, though the Deputy Headmistress was. He had been introduced to Professor McGonagall at a conference, and had heard only good about her. "Is the Headmaster available?" he asked. He wanted to talk some more about that nightmare hex. Lowenstein felt the older wizard knew more about it than he had said.
"No, he's in London this evening and won't be back till tomorrow night."
Despite her age, which was close to his, she was still magnificent in a stern sort of way. "I am Magister Lowenstein, from the Institut. I wished to speak the Headmaster before Professor Snape left us. Is there somewhere he can be reached."
"He would be delighted to be called out of any meeting with the Ministry, but you can tell me how the professor is. I am quite concerned about him myself."
"Good. He must undergo treatment, and he will not like it. He has rested well here, especially the past few days, and is eating better. But I fear that will not last once he returns. The potions he will have to take are bad for the appetite, which he already has trouble with. I will send some recommendations to assist with that, which I hope someone will make him follow."
"Ah, you've already found out how stubborn he is," McGonagall said, her voice softening. "You do realize he'll be brewing this summer, and brewing and teaching once school begins."
"Yes, and this is not right! I will have to make his potions stronger, perhaps too strong than he can bear, because of this." The wizard took a deep breath. This was another reason he wanted to speak to Dumbledore. "I shall send a list of side-effects. He should take no other potions than the ones I give him."
"He is sometimes injured in his class, Magister." The stern woman looked worried. "It would be cruel to force him to heal in the Muggle fashion."
He had just gone over the man's file, too. If Dumbledore were correct, then Professor Snape ran other risks as well. "You are right. I shall make a list of the ones that will not conflict much in combination with mine. Yet they will not be as helpful as the ones he has had to use already, so he must be given more rest when this occurs." He decided to find out if this McGonagall had any awareness of what else was going on. "If he has other duties that place him in danger of injury, he should avoid them if possible."
The witch blanched. "If possible, of course," she said, though she looked quite unhappy about it.
Ah. Whatever was going on, she was not totally ignorant of it. "There is no such thing as a convenient time for this cure, I have found," he said. "Without it, he will grow more ill. Brewers have died of this, though I must admit rarely so young. He must not put this off to a better time, because that will never come. People with his talent are always in demand, but those around him must not be selfish. I still think he should be in residence. I do not like to treat someone in his state away from here."
She smiled faintly. "I agree with you, Magister. Now, I thought I had better mention that Severus will have to brew the Wolfsbane potion beginning in a couple of months. That's a matter of school safety, and seeing to that is part of my duty. Will that affect his reaction to the potions he'll have to take?"
"Yes, but I have already taken that into consideration," he said. "Perhaps you also ought to know about the foolish bet he made with me. He thinks he can teach students in his class to make it. We have some money on it."
"I think a few of the seventh-years could manage it, Miss Chang in particular," McGonagall said, staring out into space. "She will be quite busy with Quidditch and her NEWTS, but a challenge like this might be too much to resist. He said the rest of them weren't too bright, but he says that about nearly all his students."
"Good, I have a chance then. He has all the way to the end of this new school year, but it is the sixth-year students he must teach," Lowenstein said triumphantly. "It was very difficult for me to persuade him to change to the lower form, but there we are."
McGonagall smiled like a cat with a mouse in her claws, but said nothing.
"What?" the wizard continued. "What do you know about these students that I do not?"
"One of them is a girl who could learn that potion today," she said. "She's already made Polyjuice potion, though she really should have been more careful what sort of hair she put in it before she drank it."
Lowenstein's heart sank. "Professor Snape mentions an HG in his papers at times. Is that not an associate in Britain?"
"Her name is Hermione Granger. She made that potion in her second year in an unused lavatory, out of the book."
The wizard gulped. "Yet if she becomes ill, or has a bad year for some reason?"
"Young Mr. Malfoy is almost as intelligent as he thinks he is, and might be able to manage if he paid more attention to his work. He would likely to do so to oblige his godfather once he learns of this bet."
"Let me venture," Lowenstein said. "His godfather, of course, is Professor Snape." He saw his Galleons waving farewell. He sighed. It would be wrong of him to contemplate altering the professor's regime in order to win the bet. "Well, if this potion can be produced more easily, then those poor werewolves will certainly benefit. I understand one is to teach this year?"
"Yes, Remus Lupin will be leading the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes this year. He's also been doing counseling for new werewolves at St. Mungo's. He has several clients by now. Professor Snape will have no trouble finding subjects to test the potion on." She smirked. "How much did you bet?"
"A thousand," he said, and paused a moment. "Galleons."
"Oh dear," she said, and pursed her lips, though undoubtedly to keep herself from laughing.
"He is coming back tomorrow or the next day, if I can persuade him to stay that long. I shall have to warn you, once he begins the potions he will not feel well, and will be bad-tempered even more than you are used to. My brother was not a happy man during the treatment, yet he is much better now after it. I will have a list of probable symptoms forwarded with the first set of potions, along with a list of those he can take in moderation if necessary."
"I hope you find time to consult with Madam Pomfrey, our mediwitch. She has been caring for Severus for many years now. I believe he trusts her more than anyone else here at Hogwarts." The suppressed laughter in her eyes had gone. "He is a difficult person, but despite all that he is very dear to us. I'm glad that he's getting this taken care of."
"It is better that he should. His lab results were bad. I have never seen anyone so young carry this much poison," Lowenstein said. He'd been appalled by the tests, the wand scans, and Madam Pomfrey's somewhat more complete chart information. "I still wish we could have gotten rid of the nightmare hex he has picked up. I fear it will return to full strength when he is away from here."
"I didn't think he needed a hex to sleep badly," McGonagall said softly. "The Headmaster said nothing of this to me. I shall look into it. Thank you for watching over him."
The wizard shrugged. "He is an interesting case. I can only help with the potions overload. I suspect there is much else wrong, but I can only do what I know."
"I'm certain we will all be interested in seeing your evaluation," the witch said, her green eyes glittering. "It must be getting late there. I appreciate what you have done for the professor already. I hope this works out well for him."
Lowenstein bade her farewell, then closed the connection. He had his own suspicions about that hex, and hoped the Deputy Headmistress would look into it. With luck he would not need to accuse one of the most noted heroes of the Grindelwald War of abusing his position. But Professor Snape was his patient now. He dared not shrink from his responsibilities.
Further Author's Note: Ten points to the house of the first reviewer who knows where Hunk-Ra and Miss Boopstein are from!