Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 03 : Epithalamium
Part One : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall
Chapter Four : This is Getting Old
11 September 2003
Dumbledore's office was cheery in the midday sunlight. The sunspot to the left of Severus highlighted the rich colours of the plush rug under his feet, warming the air around it, making the room cosy and luminous.
"Severus, be reasonable." Albus looked pained as he sipped his almost-cold tea. A quick warming spell took care of the chill of it but could do nothing for the knot in his stomach nor for the uncomfortable pressure above it. He almost reached for the potion, but knew Severus would have no difficulty noticing the level was dropping faster than it should.
Severus noted the aborted movement and, having observed several similar motions since he'd arrived, suspected he knew what it meant. He chose to ignore it for the moment as he replied, "I am being reasonable. I've looked at the guest list you propose. There are at dozens on it who, at one time or another, would have paid good money to have front row seats to watch me play 'Spin the Bottle' with the Dementors. Septimius is adequate payment for having to smarm over Fudge, but the others require a separate negotiation. It's not like they're a matched set--although, they are all linked by lips and arses."
Dumbledore almost choked on the last bit, the remark bringing to mind--well, it didn't bear thinking about right now. He knew the worst was coming.
Severus' voiced dropped until there was venom dripping in the honey of his tone. It was his most dangerous voice, one previously reserved for Death Eater meetings and heard by Albus only on the occasion of his informational dalliance with Draco over four years ago. Dumbledore winced as Severus continued, "I am curious, though. Why on the rings of Saturn did you think, in any way, we would accept the presence of the Malfoys?"
He stared at Albus, watching the varying expressions flit across his face. He realised either his ability to read him was improving or else Albus was getting worse at hiding. Putting a few things together, Severus said without preamble, "Let me see the bottle."
Like a reluctant child, Dumbledore put his hand in his desk drawer and pulled out the bottle of the potion Severus had made just last week for him. It was almost empty. Severus raised a brow at the level and sat back in his chair, silent for once, as he let the evidence roll around in his head for a moment. Something was happening here other than the wedding. With his usual irony, he said, "I find myself with something of a conundrum. Should I just refuse to ask you what the problem is and continue setting obstacles to whatever your devious mind has planned and watch you eat your stomach out with the potion? Or should I just accept your guest list at face value, none the wiser, and let your other problems resolve themselves in the way you want? Somehow, neither option is palatable."
Albus' face brightened a bit at the last question.
"Hmmm. I thought so." Severus sighed. Resigned to the inevitable, he said, "Talk to me, Albus. Even with constant indigestion, that potion should have lasted at least a month. Why are you drinking it like water? What has you so upset that your stomach is making more acid than the potion can handle? And have you seen Poppy for it?" Another thought rose to the surface. "No, I suppose you wouldn't have. She'd want to know why and would fuss--"
At Albus' mute acknowledgement, he threw up his hands. "Oh all right, I see your point. Pain in the arse having a healer as a lover, isn't it? I know the feeling well. However, that does not mean you couldn't have Harry look you over, nor does it enlighten me as to the real problem." He waited, silent.
Dumbledore cleared his throat and, since Severus already knew, took a large swig out of the bottle, emptying it. He suppressed the groan of relief as the knots untied and the burning receded, but they did not go away completely. Reluctantly he replied, "There have been rumours of continuing Death Eater activity in central and eastern Europe. As you know, we have been unable to catch more than a fraction of them at any one time. Some of them are acting on their own misplaced agendas, but the ones holding my concern are the cells who have sworn allegiance to Malfoy."
He winced slightly and sighed noisily. "There have also been some substantiated rumours that Lucius and his followers are looking for opportunities to destroy key members of the Order. We've already seen one potential attempt with what they did to Perrin; we should heed this as a good indicator of the ruthlessness with which they will pursue this goal. Your wedding would be the perfect time since it will be one of the rare occurrences where most of the core members will be in one place at a time. At first I'd thought that if we could make the wedding public enough, Lucius would stay away, but Harry was quite eloquent in his refusal."
He took another sip of his tea, the burning in his gut starting again. "I think, if we are creative enough, we can protect the ceremony itself, although I am not happy it is necessary. I still think the public route is the best one. Lucius does not have that many followers yet and a large number of people would stay his hand." A wave of fire passed through his stomach, worse than anything to date and he was helpless to stop his natural reaction to it. The damn thing just never let up and he felt his heart speed up, then skip a beat. Then another. He couldn't get enough air, but this was nothing new; it was just getting most inconvenient and not something he'd wanted to share with anyone. Resigned, he knew it was futile to hope Severus, damn his eyes, would ignore it, or, better yet, have not seen it at all.
His grimace of pain was not lost on Severus, who sat back and waited for it to run its course. Severus felt a frisson of apprehension at Albus' paling face shining with a thin film of sweat. Relieved when it passed and Dumbledore was more relaxed, he stated gently, but implacably, "We'll talk no more of this until you've allowed Harry to give you a check-up and fix whatever is plaguing you. None of this will work, old man, if you are not well and whole and I refuse to be a reason you are ill." He was almost alarmed when Albus nodded and wordlessly agreed.
Severus rose from his chair and, using Dumbledore's fireplace, Floo'd Harry, asking him to join him in the Headmaster's office. Harry took one look at the austere seriousness on his partner's face and told him he'd be there straight away. Putting away the progress notes he'd been writing, a sixth sense made him unconsciously pick up and pocket a small metal ball he sometimes used when he treated patients. He left immediately to go meet Severus and Dumbledore.
After Severus made a second Floo call to McGonagall to arrange for the rest of his day's classes to go to the library, something he was sure would be most welcome to his students, or at least would be until they saw the price for the missed lesson, he sat back down opposite the Headmaster who was still sitting serenely at his desk.
"There's nothing he can do, you know," Dumbledore calmly told Severus while they were waiting for Harry.
"Oh? And you already know what the problem is?" Severus asked with asperity.
"Of course I do--I'm old," Albus stated with a small twinkle as if this should have been very obvious.
Severus shook his head. "You're not that old--154 if I recall correctly. There have been others living longer than you." And then the thought occurred that few names came immediately to mind. He really did not want to think in this direction.
"Ah yes, but--how is it the Muggles say it? 'It's not the years, it's the mileage'?" He chuckled.
The door chimed and Severus rose to open it. Harry stood there just having come off the moving stair. He searched Severus' face for an instant and, not liking what he saw, he schooled his worried features into a pleasant blank mask. "Hullo, Severus, Albus. What can I do for you?"
Albus eyed his casual clothes of shirt and jeans and realised that somehow Severus had conveyed some kind of urgency to him for him to have left their chambers without his robes. It was urgent, but not for the reasons Severus thought. The stomach problems were the least of his concerns as they were about to discover. He admired Severus' adroit use of blackmail even as he regretted what was about to happen.
All this flashed through his mind before Severus could draw breath to speak and so he beat Severus to comment, "My dear boy, I hope we have not disturbed your work." When Harry waved his hand in dismissal, he continued. "Severus seems to think I need your services for a little tummy trouble I am having and, knowing I do not want to have Poppy fussing over me, suggested I ask you to look at it instead." At the stern look Severus threw him, he sighed, saving Severus the effort of countering him. "Oh all right. He wants you to give me an overall check-up as well." He stuck his tongue out at him--so there!
"As I can't see you volunteering for this, it must have been some spectacular kind of blackmail Severus used," Harry remarked dryly.
Both Severus and Albus laughed. "The truth hurts, old man," Severus choked out.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, still chuckling. "Well, yes, I suppose it does." Another spasm of pain crossed his face.
Harry noted it immediately and felt an urgency to start. He'd become adept at reading pain in patients' body language and knew what was passing through Albus at this moment was more than a tummy ache. Once he saw his face return to normal, he gestured to Albus, saying as if everything was ordinary, "I need you to conjure one of your infamous chairs. Cushy is all right, but I need it to have no back for me to do this in the quickest manner with the most comfort for you. I have no need for one."
Albus wordlessly complied. An armed bench with a thick bottom cushion appeared out of thin air in front of the fire, replacing one of his squashy club chairs that normally sat there. He stood away from his desk, asking, "Do you need for me to disrobe?"
Harry nodded his approval of the bench and said, "No. Unless there is something on the surface I need to see, you may leave them on--but the hat needs to come off." Albus sighed with some relief and, placing his hat on his desk, sat down facing the small fire he had behind the grate.
At the same time, Severus rose to leave, expecting they would want privacy. Albus surprised him by waving his hand. "There is no reason for you to go, Severus. Take the other chair by the fire and make yourself comfortable."
His eyebrows raised, he did as he was asked. He had wanted to stay if only to see for himself what was wrong. Severus knew that had he left, Harry would not tell him unless Dumbledore gave him leave to; Harry took the confidentiality part of his work very seriously and could hold a secret as well as himself. Just another reason he trusted him as he did.
Harry felt the metal ball in his pocket and, mentally shaking his head at his instincts, pulled it out handing it to Dumbledore. "Take this. It's used to focus your attention if the fire proves insufficient for you to do so. I usually work on people who are unconscious," he chuckled, "so I need you to empty your mind as much as possible and keep that magic of yours dormant. If it should get to be too much, I'll bleed some of it off through the ball. It's designed to dissipate magic harmlessly away from both of us."
"Useful toy," Dumbledore said, examining the smooth metal surface of the Snitch-sized sphere in his gnarled hands. Its iridescent surface swirled slowly like green oil in blue water. "I've never seen one before."
"Probably because it's the only one of its kind. A Metallurgy Alchemist at the University made it for me after I almost got scorched by one of my patients unconsciously fighting me." Harry shuddered at the memory--he'd been unconscious for over an hour afterwards and had scared ten years off of Quiesta's life at the time.
"Can it drain a person's magic?" Dumbledore asked cagily, a seed of an idea forming in his head. Severus looked startled.
Harry gave it some thought. "I suppose if the intent was put into it, it could, which is just another reason to keep quiet about it." He gave both Severus and Dumbledore a significant look and they both nodded in understanding--they would not mention it to anyone.
Harry took a few moments to sink into the place within himself he needed to be to do his work. He stood directly behind Dumbledore, the front of his body lightly touching the exposed back of the Headmaster. Dumbledore startled a little, but relaxed; Harry ignored the reaction, having expected it. He asked, "Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," Dumbledore murmured, his eyes glazed as his mind wandered off into meditation.
Harry's voice had the dreamy cast it always had right before he was ready to work. He said, "Contineo," and a vertical shimmering, much like a cushioned wall, formed behind him. "Lean back and let me support your weight. I need you to tip your head back and relax."
Dumbledore did as instructed, the youthful frame behind him surprising in its firmness. He admitted to a small amount of nervousness he could not completely dispel. In all his years, he'd never needed a Healer. Oh assuredly a Medi-wizard on the odd occasion when he injured himself; he had his own who would come to see him when necessary as he would not allow Poppy to touch him this way--she was his wife, not his physician. But a Healer? No, Healers were for when things were desperate, when you were dying, or at least that was how it was viewed by his generation. Wanting to get this done as soon as possible, he made himself go limp.
When he felt him relax, Harry placed his hands on the front of his shoulders for a few minutes while he waited for Dumbledore to sink into his meditation. His weight finally settling, Harry braced one leg back slightly into the shimmering, which was there to carry both of their weights, a little trick Quiesta had recently shown him so he could conserve his strength for the magic.
Placing his fingers on Dumbledore's temples, the thumbs and palms settling in his thick white hair on the sides and the back of his head, he began to sink into him. He travelled the pathways, murmuring the diagnostic spells as he went. On the periphery, Harry was conscious that Severus travelled with him, through their handfasting, he assumed. It was soothing and unobtrusive, lending him support when, with difficulty, he suppressed his personal reactions; he took a moment every now and again to recentre himself and hold onto his objectivity. What he was sensing overall dismayed him.
When Harry diagnosed the malady in Albus' stomach, he realised this was probably the least of his concerns. It was a mess, but he could repair it. The Sanos ringing, he destroyed with relish the small cancer he found there and repaired the torn and burned tissue caused by an obvious tendency to bury deep worry. Given that he didn't think he would be able to get Albus to change too many of what were probably the habits of a lifetime, he did his best to adjust the organ to minimize the amount of acid it would produce in the future. He knew this would curtail the man's penchant for rich food, but since there were other reasons he needed to do so, the alternatives were far more unattractive. Of course, it would never stop his sweet tooth. Harry almost chuckled at the random thought even as he killed it as unproductive.
He went deeper. Each time he found other spots of the cancerous tissues, he destroyed them; near the end, he was satisfied he'd got it all. It wouldn't save Albus in the long run, nothing he could do would as there were other things he'd found far more pervasive and destructive, but he was at least assured something so simple would not be the cause of his demise and would buy him, perhaps, a few more years.
The Sanos rang several more times, sometimes quite protracted, and then Harry was finished. Ever so slowly, he pulled out, his shoulders sagging with fatigue when he was finally separate. He took a moment to compose himself and without warning, bent down to kiss the old man's cheek, his arms wrapping loosely around his neck and chest, his cheek on top of his head, as he gave him a light hug from behind. Dumbledore patted his hands gently, like a father, and then settled his hands back into his lap. Harry straightened and dismissed the shimmering behind him.
Albus looked energised, his color better, his face free of the tiny lines no one had noticed were there as a result of a constant background pain he'd long learned to ignore. He conjured a chair between him and Severus for Harry to sit in while adding a back to the one he occupied. He settled into it and while Harry was seating himself, said, "Well?"
Harry drew a deep breath saying, "I'll need to check every few weeks to make sure the cancer stays away, but for now, it is completely gone."
Ignoring for the moment Severus' startled reaction, Dumbledore sighed with relief. "My deepest thanks, Harry. No one truly appreciates the absence of pain until it is gone. I feel wonderful." He challenged Severus' glare, "And my thanks to you as well, Severus. Although you will hardly credit it, your stubbornness is always appreciated." Dumbledore chuckled.
Severus snorted. Harry hid a smile--some things never changed and the complex relationship between Albus and Severus was just one of them.
Albus took one look at Harry's serious face and said lightly, "Go on, you might as well say the rest."
Harry continued soberly, his eyes not leaving Dumbledore's, "Severus, you'll need to start making your Digitalus Potion for Albus on an as-needed basis as well as a Tonos Panacea Potion on a regular schedule as he will need to start taking it every day, preferably at night so it can work while he sleeps."
"What properties do you want in the Panacea?" Severus asked, his voice as professional as he could make it--the potion Harry was requesting was strong and usually used as a last resort to ease dying patients. He'd not made it in years.
Harry's shoulders slumped. He eyed Dumbledore, silently asking for permission to speak fully. Albus calmly nodded and Harry said slowly, avoiding for the moment Severus' question. "There is nothing I can do to stop the general systemic deterioration I found. It's simply a matter of age. I'm sorry, Albus."
"Think nothing of it, dear boy. I AM old, you know," he replied with his usual twinkle and a small smile.
"Your heart is failing, as you are probably aware. The Digitalus Potion will help tone the muscle and keep the beat steady, thereby eliminating most of the arrhythmia and discomfort you have been suffering from for some time now."
Albus narrowed his eyes and acknowledged Harry's words with, "Yes, I knew there was a problem." Seeing the dawning anger blossoming on Severus' face, he continued, "Don't go there, Severus. The problem is fairly recent and had it gone much further, I would have sought a consultation." He defied Harry with his eyes to put the lie to his words. Harry's mouth quirked to the side away from Severus; he would keep Albus' little deception to himself--for now.
Harry finally looked at Severus and wanted to sink into the empathy he saw in his eyes, but knew he could not, yet. He mimicked Severus' apparent professionalism as he said, "The Tonos Panacea Potion needs to be a general formula--I have few specific properties in mind because there are few specific problems to overcome." He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Albus, for a man your age, you are very healthy--well, except for the heart and the cancers and we can take care of them separately. What I sensed is a general--fading--of your systems. The Panacea is only to keep them running smoothly until such a time," he took a deep breath, "they simply can't function anymore." He struggled to keep his voice calm.
"How long?" Dumbledore asked matter-of-factly.
"I don't know," Harry whispered. "Months? Years? I've never really worked with anyone your age." He hesitated and added softly, "You need to tell Poppy, though." At the irate expression dawning on the Headmaster's face, Harry continued, "You know I'm right. It would not be fair for you to keep it from her." He chuckled lightly as the thought occurred to him, "I'm just saying this to prolong your life, you know. She's quite skilled and is probably already suspicious. She'll kill you and save you the effort of dying naturally if she ever finds out you held something this important back from her."
The thought of Poppy's wrath was amusing to all three of them and did much to relieve the building tension. Looking at the clock, Dumbledore said, "I'm certain you can tell Severus exactly what it is you want him to do with the potion later, Harry. As for now, I hate to rush you, but Poppy is due up here in a few minutes and I need a few moments alone to figure out how I'm going to tell her. You're right; I will do so. Come back tomorrow, both of you, and we can re-open our discussion on the rest of your extortion for the celebration after your vows."
He stood and shooed them to the door, his hands waving. "Now away with you." When they hesitated, he sighed and embraced them both. "I am fine and will be here a while longer. Now leave me to Poppy." They looked at him long and hard before leaving the room.
He sighed again after the door closed behind them. He may be dying, but so were all old people, and he knew they were hurting. Harry especially, although one could never be too sure what Severus was truly feeling; he always hid it well and was a constant source of delightful surprise to him.
He'd felt the struggle Harry had made in the beginning and, once overcome, Albus remembered the sense of bottled pride he'd felt as Harry had tingled his way systematically through his body as he'd worked. He shook his head, bemused. Harry's healing had been soothing, calming, and painless--certainly easier than he'd ever imagined. He wondered briefly if that was because Harry cared for him or if it was just the way it was. Knowing Harry and his gentle nature, he suspected both. Pity most people would only see the boy as the one who had killed Voldemort, never knowing what he was truly like.
And while he felt better, stronger, than he had in years, there was also a sense of weakness that he knew came from knowing that whatever the dear boy gave him in time, it would never be enough to accomplish all the things he still wanted to do. However, such a small detail as his health was not going to stop him from protecting them in a few weeks when they got married. He chuckled wickedly. He had every intention of using this 'infirmity', and the concern it would engender, to his advantage during the coming negotiations with a certain sneaky Potions master who could con a Galleon from a Goblin. He would have to be subtle, but he would prevail.
Relishing the unaccustomed sense of upcoming victory over Severus, he sat back at his desk and waited for Poppy to join him for their usual afternoon tea.
TBC