Five
Over the course of the next few days my life took some interesting twists and turns. Okay, interesting may be a bit of an understatement. More like bizarre. In any case. Snape, of course went straight to Dumbledore. I knew the big git wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut. Dumbledore, of course called me to his office and attempted to council me. No offense to him but the abuse ended a little over two years ago. No real need to reopen the wounds. At least that was my opinion. Snape, however, was of a different persuasion. He felt that it would be advantageous for me to externalize the whole ordeal. So I did. Many weeks and quite a few packs of cigarettes later I was feeling somewhat better. Somewhat.
Snape had taken a much different tone with me, which was nice. While the whole battling thing seemed exotic at first, I was much more comfortable with his new approach, which was gentility and tenderness. I figured if nothing else it would make for great blackmail down the road.
Of course in order to reveal my little secret to the headmaster, Snape also had to tell how he had read my journal. It was nice to see him catch a little hell for that. It was then returned to me. I thought a long time about what I wanted to do with it. In the end, while burning was my first instinct, I settled for tucking it away in the bottom of my drawer of knickers for the time being. Everything I had written had, after all, come from the heart, and I couldn't bring myself to just burn my heart in a fit of passion.
Snape had related to the headmaster that he was doing some rather pressing research in his spare time, and could use a little extra help with his class preparation. Enter yours truly. Of course Snape didn't really need the help, but it did give us an excuse to spend a little extra time together. And before your mind runs away with you it was completely innocent. For the most part. At first. In any case I had become a bit of a regular occurrence in the dungeons most evenings. When I would have been lying in my room wasting my time alone I was now spending time with someone who, I was beginning to learn, was more than just a good looking, ill tempered old bastard.
It was true that Snape had taken on some extra research. He was looking into the exact healing properties of phoenix tears. It was well known that the tears of the phoenix could heal any open wound, no matter how grievous. But whether or not it could have an effect on scars was another question, and one that had gone unanswered for many years.
And so this particular evening found me walking down to the potions classroom after dinner carrying a napkin stuffed with bits and bobs from the table. My housemates had watched me with looks of disgust and confusion as I had packed myself a second dinner after eating my own. Severus had skipped dinner again and I didn't like to see him miss out on such a lovely feast. Plus I was concerned about him. But that was beside the point.
I knocked lightly on the door and waited to hear him call to me to come in. I entered the classroom to find him in his usual spot, perched at his desk like a great black raven scratching notes from a huge tome on something or other. I walked up to the desk and set the napkin down upon it. Slowly, once he had finished his sentence, I reached out and took the book from under his nose, marked his place, and set it off to the side. I took his quill and parchment and laid them beside the book. Then I drew my wand, eighteen inches, yew, unicorn hair, swishy, and conjured a plate, a knife, and a fork. I tipped the food onto his plate and laid the napkin underneath as a placemat.
"Eat," I instructed him. He had watched me go through my task with the faintest hint of a smile on his face. I knew it made him happy to have someone fuss over him, even if he would never admit it. When I had finished he picked up his fork and knife and began to pick at his dinner, tines down. I never understood that tradition.
This evening I had brought him a selection of steamed carrots and broccoli, a breast of chicken, and a dinner roll. "I was going to bring you some stew but you can see the mess that would have made of the napkin," I joked. He smiled as he continued to eat. I headed over to a large tapestry that sat behind the desk, directly under one of the many sconces that adorned the walls, and slid it back to reveal a wine rack. After careful deliberation I decided that a nice Riesling would go well with the chicken. I brought the bottle over to the desk and conjured a nice crystal goblet. I opened the bottle and poured his goblet full. He took a long drink before he spoke next.
"You need to stop all this foolish fretting over me," he admonished as he took another bite of his chicken. I smiled knowingly.
"Whatever you say," I answered as I took my seat at the workstation in front of him. To entertain myself I picked up the book he had been reading. It's title was "Curing the Incurable; A Modern Magical Medical Grimoire". I opened it to the page he had been reading and skimmed.
"One of the best known effects of the phoenix tear is its ability to heal wounds. Even if the victim is an inch from death the tear of the phoenix will restore his stamina to a level above that which it had been before receiving the injury. While not much is known about how it actually effects the tissue of the skin and muscle, it is known that the offended areas seem to knit themselves back together instantaneously. Some limited work has been done with phoenix tears in the area of scarring. Those patients who received a therapy of three parts phoenix tear to two parts oil of aloe experienced a 65% decrease in the appearance of the scars, however no healing was done past the 65th percent mark.. One leading theory in the study of healing with phoenix tears is that if the wounds are reopened and then given an undiluted dose of phoenix tear, they will heal just as they had prior to healing and scarring the first time, and the scar will be wiped away. This theory has not been tested."
Snape had highlighted the last two sentences on the page. I looked up at him, questions dancing in my eyes. He nodded his head as he finished his final bite of chicken and took another swig from his goblet.
"I'm sure you understand the implications," he questioned me with something near excitement in his voice.
I nodded my head, but remained silent. I feared that if I expressed any sort of hope that I might someday be free of these horrid scars I would jinx myself.
"What do you think?"
"I think it sounds too good to be true." I turned my attention back to the book in an attempt to avoid his gaze.
"Acacia."
I looked up.
"I think we need to look further into this theory of reopening the wounds. I really think this could be the answer."
I said nothing for a moment, but eventually the little girl in me regained her voice and I asked, "Does it hurt?" I sounded almost meek. I hated it.
He put down his knife and fork and reached out to take my delicate hand in his. "I won't lie to you. We would have to open the wounds in the same way that they were created. And phoenix tears have been known to cause a bit of an aversive feeling in some patients, while others feel numbed, and still others feel as if the area being healed has been touched by Merlin himself." I looked down again, so that he couldn't see the resignation in my eyes. "But there are ways to skirt the pain," he went on, and I looked back up into those kind eyes of his. I seemed to question him with my gaze.
"I could brew a very potent analgesic, of the narcotic variety," he went on. "It would contain a very high dosage of Opium, and would kill any pain that you may feel during the procedure. However, when its effects have worn off you may go through a good deal of pain. I shall leave it up to you."
I considered this for a good long time before I looked back into his eyes, this time with certainty in my gaze. "Lets do it," I answered.
Over the course of the next few days my life took some interesting twists and turns. Okay, interesting may be a bit of an understatement. More like bizarre. In any case. Snape, of course went straight to Dumbledore. I knew the big git wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut. Dumbledore, of course called me to his office and attempted to council me. No offense to him but the abuse ended a little over two years ago. No real need to reopen the wounds. At least that was my opinion. Snape, however, was of a different persuasion. He felt that it would be advantageous for me to externalize the whole ordeal. So I did. Many weeks and quite a few packs of cigarettes later I was feeling somewhat better. Somewhat.
Snape had taken a much different tone with me, which was nice. While the whole battling thing seemed exotic at first, I was much more comfortable with his new approach, which was gentility and tenderness. I figured if nothing else it would make for great blackmail down the road.
Of course in order to reveal my little secret to the headmaster, Snape also had to tell how he had read my journal. It was nice to see him catch a little hell for that. It was then returned to me. I thought a long time about what I wanted to do with it. In the end, while burning was my first instinct, I settled for tucking it away in the bottom of my drawer of knickers for the time being. Everything I had written had, after all, come from the heart, and I couldn't bring myself to just burn my heart in a fit of passion.
Snape had related to the headmaster that he was doing some rather pressing research in his spare time, and could use a little extra help with his class preparation. Enter yours truly. Of course Snape didn't really need the help, but it did give us an excuse to spend a little extra time together. And before your mind runs away with you it was completely innocent. For the most part. At first. In any case I had become a bit of a regular occurrence in the dungeons most evenings. When I would have been lying in my room wasting my time alone I was now spending time with someone who, I was beginning to learn, was more than just a good looking, ill tempered old bastard.
It was true that Snape had taken on some extra research. He was looking into the exact healing properties of phoenix tears. It was well known that the tears of the phoenix could heal any open wound, no matter how grievous. But whether or not it could have an effect on scars was another question, and one that had gone unanswered for many years.
And so this particular evening found me walking down to the potions classroom after dinner carrying a napkin stuffed with bits and bobs from the table. My housemates had watched me with looks of disgust and confusion as I had packed myself a second dinner after eating my own. Severus had skipped dinner again and I didn't like to see him miss out on such a lovely feast. Plus I was concerned about him. But that was beside the point.
I knocked lightly on the door and waited to hear him call to me to come in. I entered the classroom to find him in his usual spot, perched at his desk like a great black raven scratching notes from a huge tome on something or other. I walked up to the desk and set the napkin down upon it. Slowly, once he had finished his sentence, I reached out and took the book from under his nose, marked his place, and set it off to the side. I took his quill and parchment and laid them beside the book. Then I drew my wand, eighteen inches, yew, unicorn hair, swishy, and conjured a plate, a knife, and a fork. I tipped the food onto his plate and laid the napkin underneath as a placemat.
"Eat," I instructed him. He had watched me go through my task with the faintest hint of a smile on his face. I knew it made him happy to have someone fuss over him, even if he would never admit it. When I had finished he picked up his fork and knife and began to pick at his dinner, tines down. I never understood that tradition.
This evening I had brought him a selection of steamed carrots and broccoli, a breast of chicken, and a dinner roll. "I was going to bring you some stew but you can see the mess that would have made of the napkin," I joked. He smiled as he continued to eat. I headed over to a large tapestry that sat behind the desk, directly under one of the many sconces that adorned the walls, and slid it back to reveal a wine rack. After careful deliberation I decided that a nice Riesling would go well with the chicken. I brought the bottle over to the desk and conjured a nice crystal goblet. I opened the bottle and poured his goblet full. He took a long drink before he spoke next.
"You need to stop all this foolish fretting over me," he admonished as he took another bite of his chicken. I smiled knowingly.
"Whatever you say," I answered as I took my seat at the workstation in front of him. To entertain myself I picked up the book he had been reading. It's title was "Curing the Incurable; A Modern Magical Medical Grimoire". I opened it to the page he had been reading and skimmed.
"One of the best known effects of the phoenix tear is its ability to heal wounds. Even if the victim is an inch from death the tear of the phoenix will restore his stamina to a level above that which it had been before receiving the injury. While not much is known about how it actually effects the tissue of the skin and muscle, it is known that the offended areas seem to knit themselves back together instantaneously. Some limited work has been done with phoenix tears in the area of scarring. Those patients who received a therapy of three parts phoenix tear to two parts oil of aloe experienced a 65% decrease in the appearance of the scars, however no healing was done past the 65th percent mark.. One leading theory in the study of healing with phoenix tears is that if the wounds are reopened and then given an undiluted dose of phoenix tear, they will heal just as they had prior to healing and scarring the first time, and the scar will be wiped away. This theory has not been tested."
Snape had highlighted the last two sentences on the page. I looked up at him, questions dancing in my eyes. He nodded his head as he finished his final bite of chicken and took another swig from his goblet.
"I'm sure you understand the implications," he questioned me with something near excitement in his voice.
I nodded my head, but remained silent. I feared that if I expressed any sort of hope that I might someday be free of these horrid scars I would jinx myself.
"What do you think?"
"I think it sounds too good to be true." I turned my attention back to the book in an attempt to avoid his gaze.
"Acacia."
I looked up.
"I think we need to look further into this theory of reopening the wounds. I really think this could be the answer."
I said nothing for a moment, but eventually the little girl in me regained her voice and I asked, "Does it hurt?" I sounded almost meek. I hated it.
He put down his knife and fork and reached out to take my delicate hand in his. "I won't lie to you. We would have to open the wounds in the same way that they were created. And phoenix tears have been known to cause a bit of an aversive feeling in some patients, while others feel numbed, and still others feel as if the area being healed has been touched by Merlin himself." I looked down again, so that he couldn't see the resignation in my eyes. "But there are ways to skirt the pain," he went on, and I looked back up into those kind eyes of his. I seemed to question him with my gaze.
"I could brew a very potent analgesic, of the narcotic variety," he went on. "It would contain a very high dosage of Opium, and would kill any pain that you may feel during the procedure. However, when its effects have worn off you may go through a good deal of pain. I shall leave it up to you."
I considered this for a good long time before I looked back into his eyes, this time with certainty in my gaze. "Lets do it," I answered.