Walking over to the fireplace, he sprinkled some power from the urn on the
mantle, and popped his head in. Momentarily, Albus Dumbledore stepped out
of the fire and into the infirmary. Professor Snape filled him in on the
morning's talk, and they were discussing this when Madam Pomfrey came over
to talk quietly with them.
"She is still very tired, and weak. She's drinking a bit, which is good, however I don't think we should allow her to eat yet, as it could make her very ill. That is, if she is even willing to eat. Her blood pressure is still very low, and I need to talk to you both about what to do for preventative medications for her seizures. The information I read stated that once the child has their first onset, they need to be medicated for life."
Snape shuddered involuntarily, vivid images of the ordeal flashing across his mind. "I wonder what it is like for her when it happens." He wondered aloud "It looked so extremely painful"
"I have no idea. She is resting again Severus, but when she is a little more coherent, you should try and chat with her a bit more. She seemed really surprised when I told her that you had stayed with her all night long and throughout the week. She's still a little confused, and thinking slowly from the Phenobarb and Valium, but other than that there doesn't appear to be any permanent damage, thank Merlin!" Madame Pomfrey happily filled them in.
"Well, in that case, I am going to my chambers for a bit, to get tidied up. I will return shortly." With a nod, Snape swept out of the room, trying desperately to hide his extreme relief at Poppy's information on the drugs causing Cassandra's changed speech and thought patterns. It would not bode well should either of them see the overly bright state of his eyes at this moment.
Madame Pomfrey looked at Dumbledore "He's taking this all very personally, don't you think Headmaster?"
Dumbledore looked down the hall, watching the dark figure retreat. "I believe that the affairs of his students are a personal matter, don't you Poppy? Thank you for your invaluable work this week - that was a difficult situation and the child is recovering nicely" He smiled.
"Thank you Headmaster. I felt inept and useless for most of the events, I am afraid." Poppy looked down. "I thought we were going to lose her, and I have yet to lose a student in all my years of this calling."
Placing a reassuring arm on her shoulder, Dumbledore thanked her again and then left the room, saying "Please continue to watch her closely, Poppy - she'll be in your keep for a while more."
Snape was relieved to get out of the sterility of the hospital wing, vowing to spend the remainder of the day in his chambers to rest a bit. Each of the past nights had been as tiring as the many he'd spent acting at the Death Eater Meetings, and he was not only exhausted but confused as well. Now the imminent danger appeared to be over, his mind rolled back to the lack of weight and general health of the child. 'What the hell is wrong with the girl' he mused to himself 'and what the hell is wrong with me not to have noticed?'
Flicking his wand angrily at the stone wall ahead of him, it shifted and changed into the arched door that led to his private quarters. Passing through the living area, he moved into his bedroom, throwing his robes onto the bed, and continued into the bathroom. He desperately wanted to take a shower, have another cup of tea, and sit undisturbed for a bit. Standing under the hot blast of water, he closed his eyes, supporting his head on the cold stone wall. Images came unbidden, and suddenly he was 20 years younger, in one of his most difficult periods at Hogwarts.
Hiding in an alcove off one of the lesser used staircases he hid, curled into a ball head between knees. The pressure had been building all day, and had reached a fever pitch. Raking his nails through his thick black hair, he held his breath, wondering if he could die by sheer willpower alone. It would be so much kinder, so much kinder than this. He couldn't see clearly, hadn't been able to all day and the world kept tilting at nauseating angles. Every breath he took roared through his skull like a bludger, crippling him even further. His right arm had ceased working properly hours ago, and his leg wasn't much better. It seemed an eternity that the pain had been there, and after struggling through exams all day, his ability to fight had waned. 'Just kill me' he moaned to himself. 'Gods know I don't have the strength to do it myself right now.' Head reeling, he groaned as slammed his forehead into the stone wall and blacked out.
Reaching for the soap, Snape shuddered at the recollection of his first ever true migraine episode. It had been a blessing that Dumbledore had found him there that night. Glancing at the multitudes of barely perceptible hair-thin scars on his arms, Snape shook his head, grateful that he had come up with a better method of pain release in his 6th year. Had he kept on with the other behavior, he probably would have wound up killing himself in a fit, and then what? Yet, on occasion after a particularly Cruciatus filled evening with Voldemort, he had been tempted to try it again, it was really such a release, watching the red lines appear.lifting him so far away from the pain of his body and his heart.
Drying off, he quickly did up the rows of buttons on the sleeves of his robes, disgusted at himself for even thinking of it. As he looked into the mirror, Snape reached over to the bottle of hair lotion on the counter, pouring an ample amount into his hands. Rubbing them briskly together, he ran his hands through his hair, sculpting it back off his face. Ever since he had snuck into a Muggle movie theater with his friend when they were 12 he had styled his hair this way. It had been a great show - popular guys with the fast cars.street racing. Stopping for a moment, he tried to think about the title of the movie. some kind of lubricant, as he remembered, brow furrowed. No matter. He remembered how they did their hair (It looked so slick), and that was the point. Coifed enough, he went into his study, and sat down on a leather chair facing the empty hearth as a cup of tea materialized beside him. Lost in thought, Snape sat back into the chair and closed his eyes.
"She is still very tired, and weak. She's drinking a bit, which is good, however I don't think we should allow her to eat yet, as it could make her very ill. That is, if she is even willing to eat. Her blood pressure is still very low, and I need to talk to you both about what to do for preventative medications for her seizures. The information I read stated that once the child has their first onset, they need to be medicated for life."
Snape shuddered involuntarily, vivid images of the ordeal flashing across his mind. "I wonder what it is like for her when it happens." He wondered aloud "It looked so extremely painful"
"I have no idea. She is resting again Severus, but when she is a little more coherent, you should try and chat with her a bit more. She seemed really surprised when I told her that you had stayed with her all night long and throughout the week. She's still a little confused, and thinking slowly from the Phenobarb and Valium, but other than that there doesn't appear to be any permanent damage, thank Merlin!" Madame Pomfrey happily filled them in.
"Well, in that case, I am going to my chambers for a bit, to get tidied up. I will return shortly." With a nod, Snape swept out of the room, trying desperately to hide his extreme relief at Poppy's information on the drugs causing Cassandra's changed speech and thought patterns. It would not bode well should either of them see the overly bright state of his eyes at this moment.
Madame Pomfrey looked at Dumbledore "He's taking this all very personally, don't you think Headmaster?"
Dumbledore looked down the hall, watching the dark figure retreat. "I believe that the affairs of his students are a personal matter, don't you Poppy? Thank you for your invaluable work this week - that was a difficult situation and the child is recovering nicely" He smiled.
"Thank you Headmaster. I felt inept and useless for most of the events, I am afraid." Poppy looked down. "I thought we were going to lose her, and I have yet to lose a student in all my years of this calling."
Placing a reassuring arm on her shoulder, Dumbledore thanked her again and then left the room, saying "Please continue to watch her closely, Poppy - she'll be in your keep for a while more."
Snape was relieved to get out of the sterility of the hospital wing, vowing to spend the remainder of the day in his chambers to rest a bit. Each of the past nights had been as tiring as the many he'd spent acting at the Death Eater Meetings, and he was not only exhausted but confused as well. Now the imminent danger appeared to be over, his mind rolled back to the lack of weight and general health of the child. 'What the hell is wrong with the girl' he mused to himself 'and what the hell is wrong with me not to have noticed?'
Flicking his wand angrily at the stone wall ahead of him, it shifted and changed into the arched door that led to his private quarters. Passing through the living area, he moved into his bedroom, throwing his robes onto the bed, and continued into the bathroom. He desperately wanted to take a shower, have another cup of tea, and sit undisturbed for a bit. Standing under the hot blast of water, he closed his eyes, supporting his head on the cold stone wall. Images came unbidden, and suddenly he was 20 years younger, in one of his most difficult periods at Hogwarts.
Hiding in an alcove off one of the lesser used staircases he hid, curled into a ball head between knees. The pressure had been building all day, and had reached a fever pitch. Raking his nails through his thick black hair, he held his breath, wondering if he could die by sheer willpower alone. It would be so much kinder, so much kinder than this. He couldn't see clearly, hadn't been able to all day and the world kept tilting at nauseating angles. Every breath he took roared through his skull like a bludger, crippling him even further. His right arm had ceased working properly hours ago, and his leg wasn't much better. It seemed an eternity that the pain had been there, and after struggling through exams all day, his ability to fight had waned. 'Just kill me' he moaned to himself. 'Gods know I don't have the strength to do it myself right now.' Head reeling, he groaned as slammed his forehead into the stone wall and blacked out.
Reaching for the soap, Snape shuddered at the recollection of his first ever true migraine episode. It had been a blessing that Dumbledore had found him there that night. Glancing at the multitudes of barely perceptible hair-thin scars on his arms, Snape shook his head, grateful that he had come up with a better method of pain release in his 6th year. Had he kept on with the other behavior, he probably would have wound up killing himself in a fit, and then what? Yet, on occasion after a particularly Cruciatus filled evening with Voldemort, he had been tempted to try it again, it was really such a release, watching the red lines appear.lifting him so far away from the pain of his body and his heart.
Drying off, he quickly did up the rows of buttons on the sleeves of his robes, disgusted at himself for even thinking of it. As he looked into the mirror, Snape reached over to the bottle of hair lotion on the counter, pouring an ample amount into his hands. Rubbing them briskly together, he ran his hands through his hair, sculpting it back off his face. Ever since he had snuck into a Muggle movie theater with his friend when they were 12 he had styled his hair this way. It had been a great show - popular guys with the fast cars.street racing. Stopping for a moment, he tried to think about the title of the movie. some kind of lubricant, as he remembered, brow furrowed. No matter. He remembered how they did their hair (It looked so slick), and that was the point. Coifed enough, he went into his study, and sat down on a leather chair facing the empty hearth as a cup of tea materialized beside him. Lost in thought, Snape sat back into the chair and closed his eyes.