A/n: We are now entering into the OotP drabbles and I can asure you that they won't all be dark and gloomy – Hope you enjoy these ones as much as the previous ones.
The burning sensation that flamed through his body suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a cooling feeling. He moaned out in relief as his body was flooded with relief and the pain ebbed away as if it had never been there in the first place.
He had returned to the Dark Lord tonight and as he had expected he had not been welcomed back with open arms. As soon as he had arrived he had been knocked to his knees by the Cruciatus Curse. He had remained tight lipped as curse flowed through his body unlike some of his fellow returnees. Their screams and begs of mercy would haunt his sleep for the next few nights.
The smell of rotting flesh had met his nose when Voldemort had bent down and whispered in his ear what was expected of him this time around. He had pledged his allegiance once more and the Dark Lord rewarded him by lifting the curse off him. He had not been allowed to heal himself so he had masked his pain during the meeting. Years of masking his feelings, his pain had made him an expert in this field. He could be on death's door and no one would know. No one except maybe Minerva.
He had made it back to the school and back to his rooms before the façade dropped and he allowed himself to feel the pain that had been wracking his body for the past two hours. Some how he had dragged himself into the bedroom and collapsed on to the bed outright.
The cooling sensation increased for a moment and then disappeared. In its place, he felt the soft lips of his lover brush against his forehead and then a vial gently pressed against his lips.
"Drink," she told him.
He opened his mouth and felt the liquid trickle down his throat. It burned on the way down and the bitter after taste told him that she had given him Skele-Gro. He suspected she had given him that to mend the broken ribs that he had received during the fall and sequent thrashing of his body during the Cruciatus.
"Thank you, Minerva," he muttered as he felt his eyes droop; his clever witch had included a sleeping draught in with the skele-gro. He would sleep now and not experience the pain of his ribs healing.