"Poppy?" Dumbledore asked.
She ran her wand over Snape's quivering form and said, "Merlin. He's become allergic to porcupine quills."
"Wh- what?" Snape said, looking at Pomfrey with a dazed expression.
"Don't try to talk," Dumbledore told him. "Poppy, how's his temperature?"
"A hundred point five. Let's get him into bed."
She levitated him out of the tub; another wave of her wand, and thick towels wrapped themselves around his body. She then settled him on the bed, and after making sure he was thoroughly dried, covered him with a thin cotton sheet.
"He's got that blasted rash all over now," she said, "and there's isn't a single thing in my potions cabinet that doesn't contain porcupine quills."
The Headmaster gazed at Snape and shook his head. "I fear, Poppy, that he's ingested so many medicinal potions over the years..."
"It sometimes happens to professional Quidditch players," Hooch said. "It's rare, of course. But even they don't get injured as often as Severus has."
Snape moaned. "Albus..."
"Yes, Severus? I'm here."
"I..." He opened his eyes half-way and closed them again.
Dumbledore patted Snape's shoulder. "Try to rest. There's not much else you can do, my boy."
The Potions Master shivered.
"Albus," Pomfrey said, "he can't just ride this out." She touched his temple. "He's getting warmer again. Feverosem reducio."
"Perhaps... some Muggle type medicine would help," Dumbledore said.
All eyes darted towards Snape, who didn't move a muscle in protest.
"It's serious, all right," Hooch said.
"Well, if that's what we're going to do, the quicker, the better," Pomfrey said, laying a cold compress on Snape's forehead. "Something to bring his fever down, and, let's see, whatever Muggles use for flu symptoms... A cream for that rash... Heaven help us when Severus is able to start complaining."
"I believe a short conversation with Miss Granger is in order," Dumbledore said.
[_]
Hermione staggered into the Hospital Ward, hefting two large plastic bags. "Madam Pomfrey, I've -I've got the medicine you wanted."
"Thank goodness you're here, Hermione," Pomfrey said. "You set those on the table by the door, lovely, let me take a look..." A few instants later, boxes of all shapes and sizes were stacked in front of the bewildered mediwitch. "My stars!" she said, peering at one of them. "Ah, the instructions are on the back. Now then, fever..."
"I think it might be best to start with a couple of Tylenols, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said. "That red and white box over there."
"Thank you, dear," Pomfrey said. After a minor struggle with the childproof cap, the mediwitch shook two tablets in her hand and headed towards Snape's bed. "Would you help me, Hermione dear? Oh, I do hope these work."
"What's the matter with the professor?" Hermione asked.
"A combination of things," Pomfrey said. "Professor Snape was ill this morning, and on top of that, he had an allergic reaction to one of the ingredient in the potion he took."
Hermione's eyes grew wide. "It wasn't -not porcupine quills, Madam Pomfrey? This is why the Headmaster asked me to buy Muggle medicine, isn't it?"
"You're right as usual, dear. Luckily, Professor Snape isn't in a position to fuss."
"Or scowl at me," Hermione said, and bit her tongue.
They approached the bedridden man and Hermione's footsteps became hesitant.
Her formidable Potions Master was immobile, and his cheeks were flushed. His arms were folded over his chest, all of which were covered with a rash.
"Don't worry, Hermione," Pomfrey said, beckoning the Gryffindor forward. "I doubt the professor knows you're even here." She slipped an arm beneath Snape's shoulders and raised him from the bed. "Severus, I have to give you some medicine now."
"P -potion... it'll burn... got... got to..." The words that followed were unintelligible.
"Hold his head, Hermione," Pomfrey said. "When I've given him the pills, hand me that glass of water on the bedside table."
Hermione swallowed and cupped the back of Snape's head.
"Open up, Severus," Pomfrey said gently. "Come on, Professor, good... Glass of water, Hermione..."