Following the evening meal, which he'd been able to eat on his own for the first time in over seven years, Severus continued to practice well past the call for lights out. It was strange to feel his body move via wandless magic. If someone had placed dozens of strings over his person at various intervals to puppet him here and there, it would have produced much the same effect. Having been told that he would eventually become so accustomed to the feeling that it would become as natural as his original means of movement was a comforting thought. In the dark, he clenched and relaxed his hands over and over. He leaned and shifted side to side. It wasn't until nearly one in the morning when he felt inclined to fake sleep as the soft sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor and came to stop at his door.
"I know you aren't sleeping, Mr. Snape," the voice of Madam McNair accused quietly from the foot of his bed.
A light was ignited and she came to sit next to him with an expectant expression until he relented and opened his eyes. He waited for some sort of snide comment at his breaking protocol to stay awake without proper reasons. Truthfully, he was exhausted, but a part of him was terrified that if he chanced to rest that the ability to move would go away.
"I couldn't sleep." he lied.
"Mm." the healer responded in clear disbelief. "Look at me."
Begrudgingly, Severus turned his head and locked eyes with the woman. He knew that his eyes must have been bloodshot and his posture unavoidably slumped, but he would remain defiant for as long as he was able. If he'd refused to sleep for Sir Padmoore, he would be force fed a sleeping draught. In the present moment, all he could do was swallow, eyes darting away frantically when she didn't immediately speak.
"You're afraid that it's going to go away." she stated. "It will. I'll spare you the hypocrisy of acting as though you're in the wake of some sort of miracle, Mr. Snape. But it will also come back. Your wandless magics have been in disuse for a long time. Your stamina for it will be low. Right now, you're straining yourself even if you don't realize it yet."
His face fell.
"Think of your wandless capabilities and your physical capabilities as water in two separate glasses. To add to one, you must give from the other. Steadily throughout the day, the water is used up, evaporating and burning away. It is not an infinite supply." Madam McNair continued. "If you keep this up, you won't even be able to regain consciousness in the morning. Perhaps by the afternoon, but even then, you'll be sluggish. Rest is an important part of recovering your strength. You are pushing too hard. Eventually you will add to the well of your capabilities, but until that time, you must pace yourself."
The raven haired man gave a small nod of understanding. Showing restraint when he'd been still for so many years was a far more difficult thing than she seemed to realize, but arguing would likely lead him nowhere. His mind spun possibilities of continuing his endeavors in secret, but a warning glare put a stopper in the flow of his thoughts. At least for the moment.
"Then what am I to do with myself, if not practice?" he asked slowly, failing to keep a note of bitterness from sliding into his tone. "Lay here and wait until I'm told that I'm allowed, like a beaten dog pining for activity?"
"Hardly. You'll still have electric therapy twice per day, and water exercise three times per week. On days of rest, I expect you to rest for the greater part of the day, and participate in group sessions to re-socialize yourself with other patients. Listen to music. Carry on conversation. Sleep. Call for visitations if you so choose. Your stimulus prompts will drop to every other day, then lessen even more as you gain stamina for prolonged movement. We will measure your strength at the end of each week and document your progress." she explained. "This is usually the sort of timeline which Sir Padmore is used to, extended movement within five days. I think he really enjoyed having you as such a resilient challenge. But you are in my care now, which means that we will proceed my way. Not his. I'll thank you not to give me a reason to strap you to your bed."
Severus scoffed and shook his head. In a way, he was still annoyed that so much time would be wasted sitting still, but the explanation seemed to carry little evidence of overt dishonesty. Sir Padmoore, as skin-crawlingly abrasive as he was, had filled his head with such heavy promise of speed in recovery that he was all but clawing at the chance to refine his movement. It genuinely ached to be told to pull back on his efforts. He was not keen about the idea of being strapped in place at all. He decided to deter the conversation so as not to think on it.
"Why are you awake? Surely your night shift employees have everything under control?" he inquired as a means to be rid of her.
"They are interns. I still have to check in every few hours. Even if they're only babysitting a slumbering handful of patients, I have indicators in my quarters which alert me to any abnormalities and I have a nasty little habit of being inclined to follow up on them. Such as the absence of sleep waves and reduced heart rate from patients who are meant to be in rest." she replied pointedly, causing Severus to avert his eyes once more. "I know you are excited. I will not fault you for it, or try to scold you into complying at the moment. Repeated offenses will be handled differently, but I know that you are still feeling your way around this new means of movement. I'm too old to get annoyed over every little hiccup in my planning. Try to be patient."
She had to be joking. By all appearances, Madam McNair could not have been older than her early thirties. He squinted in disbelief.
"Too old? You're what, thirty-five?" he asked dryly, trying to get a rise out of her by guessing older than she probably was. "Try managing a school's worth of students of varying age who defy you at every turn."
"I am one-hundred-and-forty-seven, Mr. Snape. I've managed healing establishments with an excess of four hundred employees and a thousand patients at a time. Forgive me, but you're not impressing anyone." the healer rolled her eyes. "Devoting yourself to a different cause with smaller groups has its own set of challenges."
Mouth agape, Severus tried to compute what he'd been told. Surely she was lying. Even Professor Dumbledore at the last of his life had shown excessive age, regardless of how spry he remained. In response to the obvious question in her patient's eyes, Madam McNair turned around and lifted the hair from her trademark messy bun to expose the nape of her neck. She revealed a small, glowing tattoo of sorts. A symbol that led Severus to wrack his brain to recall the meaning.
"It's some sort of glamour spell, am I correct? To permanently reduce the appearance of age?" he guessed.
"Nearly. It is a glamour spell, but all it does is conceal the points of my ears and the milky sheen of my eyes. People are less inclined to let you treat them if they are aware you are a breed of the taller Fae folk. Strictly speaking, we are not allowed to treat human beings." she shrugged, turning back to face him.
"By Ministry law?" Severus added.
"By Elvish law." Madam McNair corrected. "The spell helps to avoid certain obstacles. That is all. Are you going to go to sleep now, or did you have other prying concerns?"
"I have a great many prying concerns, but I suppose I will keep them to myself for the time being. I have to wonder how you came to work with a person like Sir Padmoore, but I would imagine that if you cannot even practice in the open as you are naturally that you have reason to mask a great deal." he replied coolly.
"We all have our vices, Mr. Snape." Madam McNair admitted evasively, rising to leave. "Goodnight."
Once she'd cleared the room and Severus again found himself in the dark, it was his full intention to resume his activities. Something gave him pause. Whether it was because he knew now for certain that he was being monitored at all times, or because he'd lost the resolve to be defiant, he could not say. How had he been so easily placated? With a resigned sigh, he leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes, abandoning schemes for sleep.
Mid morning proved to be a little more tasking than Severus had expected. The attendants had to wake him several times as it was too much of a strain to stay awake for more than a five-minute stretch. By ten o'clock, Madam McNair made the decision to have him wheeled out into the common area to socialize with other patients in an effort to keep his mind active enough to abstain from oversleeping. There were only three other patients. A nine-year-old girl, an elderly man, and a woman in her early twenties with a prosthetic leg. The adults were engaged in a game of wizard chess with small dishes of candy to the side of each of them which they used to place friendly bets. It seemed rude to interrupt them, so he kept to himself.
A radio played softly in the corner, and he attempted to focus on that as opposed to inserting himself into an interaction. Severus had never been particularly social to begin with, and the idea of being thrust into a room of people he didn't know for the sole purpose of making conversation made him highly uncomfortable. With discomfort came the return of the more sour aspect of his attitude. He wanted to go back to sleep. There was no part of him that wished for the company of strangers. Unfortunately, an interaction was to be held whether he cared for it or not as he spotted someone wheeling over in his peripherals. Perhaps if he ignored them, they would retreat back to their previous activities.
"Hello… What is your name? Why are you sitting here all by yourself?" a very small voice asked curiously.
Severus knew from experience that children had a terrible tendency to remain in place and continue to badger a person with relentless questions unless they were addressed. A sharp remark would surely send the girl on her way, possibly in tears, but options had to be weighed. If Madam McNair received a report that he was being hateful to one of the other patients, he could be kicked out of the program. This could not be chanced when he'd made such a leap in progress. With a labored groan, he turned his head to acknowledge his visitor.
"Mr. Snape… and because I wish to be alone with my thoughts." he replied pointedly.
"Oh. That's a funny name. What's your first name, though? My first name is Lotus, and I'm nine, and I like coloring and pumpkin pie and books about ghosts and monsters and days when it rains a whole bunch." the child continued, undeterred by the man's vastly uninterested expression. "Why would you want to be alone with your thoughts? Won't you get lonely? I don't want you to be lonely if you're new. You don't have to be shy. I'll sit with you. What should I color? I could make you a picture to put in your room. Do you like bats and ravens? You look like you like bats and ravens. Your hair looks like raven wings that floof out at the bottom. Did you know that ravens like to play in the snow and they usually aren't cursed at all?"
With a growing sense of dread, Severus came to the realization that he wasn't about to escape this conversation or company. This was further cemented in his mind when Amelia peeked around the corner to check in on everyone. When he mouthed a silent help me, she grinned and shook her head no. He scowled and stared up at the ceiling until he felt the little girl tugging at his sleeve.
"I asked you six questions and you answered no questions." Lotus frowned.
He slowly tilted his head back down to face her, deadpan and clearly uninterested. Whether or not Madam McNair would give him a lecture for it, Severus went to move his hands back to the wheelchair to coast himself away from the girl, but found he could do little more than twitch his hands. The girl looked at him curiously, then patted one of his hands in understanding.
"It's okay. You just started, right? It'll get easier. They told me I can start on legs soon. I can already move my feet a little. But I wanted to be good enough to color, so I've been practicing arms and hands and fingers. See? I can draw without wobbling the lines!" the child peeped proudly.
Against his will, his eyes drifted to the little girl's paper of their own accord. She carefully drew a raven with a fair amount of precision. As much as he was loathe to ask, risking a further slew of long-winded ramblings, Severus quietly cleared his throat and nodded towards the picture.
"…How long did it take you to learn that?" he asked.
"How to color, or how to draw a raven?" Lotus shrugged.
"How long did it take you to regain proper finger control and sustain it for a lengthy period of time?" he clarified, then shook his head. "Ah, how long did it take to learn how to draw without wobbling the crayon?"
A momentary look of confusion blinked away when it was explained more plainly what he meant. Lotus put her crayons into a small wooden carrier. Once they were all put away, she attempted to lay out how everything had been described to her.
"It took a long time. It took I think two months to be really good at it. I started moving my hands around Halloween and I could draw good by Christmas. At first," she started, lifting up his wrist by his sleeve, much to his dismay. "It was like being held up by strings. Then I got better at control, and it was more like..." she paused again to move his fingers around. "Like someone was helping me move like this. And after that, it was like something was in my bones and muscles and it felt… normal. You know. Like nothing was wrong with me anymore. I was so happy I cried. Daddy cried, too. He comes to see me all the time, but usually I can tell he's sad. He was happy that day. I want to keep making him happy so he won't have to think about bad stuff anymore, like the accident. Maybe you can learn faster since you're a grown up!"
"I don't know what that has to do with it. Madam McNair seems to believe that children take to the treatments better." Severus frowned seriously.
"That's because children aren't afraid of tickles and probably you are." Lotus smirked.
"I wouldn't phrase it exactly like that, but I suppose so." he groaned in embarrassment.
"It's better than someone hurting you all the time. Mr. Padmoore tried to get me to be part of his program, and when he told me about it... I bit him. He shouldn't have touched my face. I don't like him." she said quietly.
There was no arguing with that. Lotus put his hand back down on his arm rest and then placed her drawing in his lap. Severus tried to protest, but the girl insisted that it was a gift and that he had to take it with him. He awkwardly cleared his throat and glanced around to seek out the time. Thankfully, one of the attendants came to fetch him for his electric therapy. As he was wheeled away, the child waved farewell. Though he wasn't able to do much, he did manage to twitch a very small wave in return. If a child could learn to draw or write with ease, certainly he could as well. It would likely take some tutoring, but Severus very much looked forward to writing out corrections in the newest editions of Potions Weekly.