Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 03 : Epithalamium

Part One : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall
Chapter Five : A Right Softy

11 September 2003 (Continued)

They'd said nothing to each other on the way back to their quarters, although, in a rare public display, Severus had taken Harry's hand tightly and not let go despite the strange looks they'd received from those few they passed. Severus knew neither one trusted themselves further, so they waited until they were private. Severus had no more closed the door behind him when Harry walked into his arms, his restrained tears absorbed by Severus' robes. Holding Harry and his own emotions fast, he almost regretted coercing the examination on Dumbledore. Almost. 'Not because of Albus though, but because of what it will do to Harry. It's better in the long run to know, but gods how it hurts.'

Calmer, Harry eventually pulled back, his forehead on Severus' chest. Although he'd always thought Harry's occasional vulnerability was one of his greatest strengths, Severus knew from long experience that Harry hated to be seen this way, even by him, so he patiently waited for Harry to pull himself together before he would face him. He smiled privately at the faint sniffles coming from his lover, so old and so young at the same time. When all was silent, Severus kissed the top of his head, murmuring, "Better?"

Raising his head, his cheeks flushed as much from his emotional purging as from embarrassment, he smiled tiredly. "Yeah. Sorry 'bout that."

"I'll tell you what--I'll accept your apology for making such an emotional spectacle of yourself, if you'll accept mine for caring about the old bugger in the first place." As he'd hoped, Harry gave him one of those boyish grins that made his heart turn inside out. Gods, how he loved this man--there were not enough words sometimes, not enough air to breathe when he felt this way.

Harry knew it, though. Severus could tell from the softening around his eyes, the way his grin transformed into a happy smile, the way his head tilted, just so, to reach up and capture his mouth in a serious kiss, his lips moulding to his like an embrace, their tongues stroking like tender hands on willing flesh. With Harry's body pressing to his, arms wrapped tightly around him, anchoring him, defining him by a circle of closeness--it never got better than this because Severus knew one could never improve on perfection.

They needed nothing more for now.

Returning from his workroom, Severus sat next to Harry on the sofa in the sitting room. Slumped over, his elbows on his knees, face in his hands, Harry made a perfect picture of thoughtful worry. Scooting closer, Severus put his arm around his shoulders and nudged his ear with his nose. When Harry raised his head, Severus handed him a small bottle with the clear amber restorative. "Here, drink this. You'll feel better for it."

Harry held it loosely in his hand but made no move to open it. Severus raised a questioning brow when Harry said, "We need to talk and this will just make me sleepy."

Severus knew sleep was what Harry really needed, but far be it from him to tell him what to do. He walked into his study and a few moments later came back with writing materials. Making himself comfortable in the corner of the sofa, his feet stretched out, he said, "Very well. I am assuming you wish to discuss the Panacea properties?" At Harry's noise of assent, he continued in his best professorial manner, "While the base of the potion is fairly stable, I will need for you to dictate the 3rd, 4th, 6th, 9th, and 13th ingredients for me, in order." He poised the dry quill over the parchment, waiting.

Flummoxed, Harry blinked fatuously for a few moments while he mumbled to himself, "I know this. I know I know this." But he was just too tired, the thoughts were pudding in his head. Then one came forward unbidden and his eyes narrowed. Glaring at Severus, he was about to scorch him when his humour reasserted itself and laughing lightly, he began to see the point he was quite sure Severus had intended all along. He shook his head, looking down at the innocent vial in his hands. Damn, the man was as sneaky as Albus. No wonder his life was so convoluted; between the two of them, Albus certainly had more practice, but Severus had the greater talent and more access. With a small chuckle, and a quick sideways glance at the amused man sitting next to him, he ruefully asked, "Am I always this easy to manipulate?"

Severus hid his smile; the confounded looks flitting across Harry's expressive face were too delightful for words. "No, not really; however, it is absurdly simple to do so when you are too tired to think straight." He waited and was rewarded by Harry laughing through a huge yawn. "Just as I suspected. I think we can discuss this later this evening after you've had a good rest; with your concurrence, I have some suggestions for the initial ingredients." He couldn't help thinking that it was a good thing they were working this evening as Harry held the last dose of restorative and would probably need at least one more dose by the morrow. When he'd gone to pick this one up, he'd taken the time to start the first phase on a new batch, which would be ready for him to finish later when they made Albus' potions.

Harry nodded, pleased, and after uncorking the vial, drained it. Placing the empty container on the table next to him he crawled up and stretched out half on top of Severus, who'd already dropped the quill and paper to the floor. Within moments, Harry lightly dozed comfortably ensconced in his arms. Severus had known it wouldn't take long--the combination of the healing and the subsequent emotional upheaval would be enough to wear anyone out. He held Harry loosely for some minutes, relaxing himself from the unexpected stress of the day.

With a series of long sighs, Harry's body gradually became dead weight as he fell into deeper sleep. Unable to join him just yet, even though he felt exhausted, Severus adjusted their position slightly to pull Harry closer, grateful the restorative was working properly. Once assured he'd have circulation later when Harry woke, he let his thoughts wander, studying what he'd seen over the better part of the morning and afternoon.

Once Albus had settled and Harry started his diagnosis, Severus had watched his lover's face move through a myriad of quickly repressed emotions, the most common being sorrow, and he'd understood in full why Harry was loath to work on 'family'. Near the beginning, before Harry completely succeeded in pushing his Mastery to the fore, he'd failed to stop a single tear tracking down his face. Severus had noted it, though, a sinking feeling in his gut. A long look at Dumbledore had revealed the man deep in meditation, eyes closed, his pale face lax and expressionless. It had bothered Severus greatly at the time; Albus had too much resembled a corpse, albeit one sitting up. It had come as something of a shock; he'd never before seen him in repose--not even asleep.

And it had been odd. When Harry had healed Kalani, he'd been intimately aware of Harry's use of the Sanos magic, perhaps more so than the others present, he'd thought, because of his own training. Now he was not so sure of that assessment. While they'd only spoken of it once, he grudgingly allowed that they'd become 'connected', for lack of a better word, during the few times they'd used the Sanos magic on each other. Harry had started it when he'd healed Severus in his Sixth Year and deepened it when he'd pulled the old Dark Magic out of the scars on his body. The first time, Harry had wielded instinctive, raw power, much like using a sledgehammer to crack an egg, and while he'd exerted far more control the second time, he'd been influenced more by his emotions than his common sense when he'd done so.

He himself had done it unintentionally over the weeks it had taken to reunite Harry with his memories when he and Dumbledore had almost killed him in that ill-fated duel and again when ridding Harry of Draco's poison. And, if he were honest with himself, he had to admit the strong emotions he'd felt for Harry both times probably drove the connection deeper. With a shudder, he remembered how he had almost drained himself with the Sanos he'd poured into Harry in the infirmary, not only because of the extent of the injuries, but also due to his lack of skill; he was a Potions master and Legilimens, not a Healer. No, he'd not wielded the Sanos with anywhere near the finesse he'd witnessed today or in Hana.

'Hmmm. I wonder--did an inadvertent Sanos connection early on cause us to set aside our differences to eventually feel the way we do about each other, or did our then unknown and unrealised affections cause the Sanos to connect us in the first place? Given that one cannot heal if one hates and, if Harry is to be believed, that love of some kind has to be present for the Sanos to work, it's probably the latter. Or at least I hope so.' He shuddered. Heaven only knew what the consequences would be to them if Harry actually made that close a connection with every patient he healed.

He sighed. It was all so complicated, even more so after today. His previous experiences of 'knowing' things about Harry through some nebulous connection and the brief interval of yet another link made through the wards they'd cast through the glyph had in no way prepared him for the impact the handfasting would have on it all. It had been less than a month since their loose binding, scarcely time for his cold brand of logic to adjust to the capricious nature of Harry's state of mind.

He snorted thinking of the hodgepodge of images that would just pop into his head at the most inopportune times if Harry was somewhere within a proximity they'd not yet been able to establish. With limited success they could read each other across the room and deliberately send pictures to each other and had even managed it a couple of times when on opposite sides of the castle, but more often than not, there was no rhyme nor reason to it.

Take today for example. This morning he'd awakened to an image of Harry in the bath. Thinking he would join him, he'd gone to the pool only to find no Harry there--until out of the corner of his eye he'd seen a flash and suddenly found himself airborne, splashing into the pool, dressing gown and all--the little sneak. The payment he'd exacted for the prank brought an evil smile to his face; revenge had been sweet indeed.

And yet later, when he'd called by Floo, he'd attempted to 'tell' Harry without words the gravity of the matter with Dumbledore. Given the alacrity with which Harry had responded, he was certain Harry had understood his urgency; however, he was convinced it was more from his facial expressions than anything he'd managed to send otherwise. Normally when he 'sent' something to Harry successfully, there was a crispness about it, rather like the first pungent crunch of fresh cabbage. This time, it had felt more like boiled cabbage, soft and tasteless, not really there at all. With a dawning realisation, he wondered if it had something to do with the Floo itself and made a mental note to discuss it with Harry later when things settled down.

With Harry fully concentrating on his art, a series of confusing images had floated through his head at irregular intervals all through the morning and afternoon. After the first one of a pale pink background with dark grey splotches, it had taken him a few minutes to realise he was 'seeing' Harry's progress and a few more moments for him to process the information enough to make some small sense of it. When he'd received several of them, he'd known Harry was 'travelling the pathways', as he called it, the Latin and Greek of the mumbled diagnostic spells going a long way in helping him know 'where' he was. Despite the imagery's visual clarity, his uncertainty remained as to 'what', exactly, he'd witnessed.

He'd sat there, not even daring to move while he quietly concentrated on the confusing diorama passing through his mind, silently appalled with the frequency with which he heard the Sanos ring as Harry traversed Dumbledore's body. At a few, odd intervals the little ball in the old man's hands had flashed, usually emitting a shower of golden sparks as Dumbledore's natural reaction to Harry's invasion was dissipated harmlessly into the fire. One time, near the end, the Sanos notes had soured, then righted themselves back into a steady tone as a veritable fountain of magic had spewed violently into the fireplace. He'd felt Harry struggling and knew then, with a fearful certainty as the sparks continued to fly unabated, that Harry had entered one of Dumbledore's shielded places. He'd not been able to tell exactly where 'they' were--the heart he'd thought, given the pulsing, lurid red he'd briefly envisioned, but the long duration did not bode well for the old man.

Which brought him right back to where he'd started--Albus--the most stubborn, devious, ingratiating, insufferably cheerful, cunning, irritating, rule-breaking, Hufflepuffish Slytherin rogue he'd ever loved.

He absently stroked Harry's hair, his head thrown back, finally letting his own sparse tears leak out to stain the cushions beneath his head. They didn't last long. They never did. He was having a hard time envisioning a world without Albus. He also knew, with a wry thought, the old man would shamelessly use the knowledge to his advantage. 'After all, it's what I would do were I him. However, I want the old bugger around as long as I can. I suppose it would not be such a bad trade to let him have some of his way about the plans for the wedding. I'll have to talk to Harry about it, but if allowing the Malfoys to come to the reception reduces his stress, then I see no other way around it.'

He also had the random thought that Minerva should also probably be told and knew he'd gained a small bargaining chip of his own. He briefly wondered if they could get him to retire, but he quickly dismissed the thought--he knew it would never happen--Albus Dumbledore was as much Hogwarts as the walls themselves. 'Still it will do no harm to have McGonagall prepared to take over--maybe sooner than later'.

He finally let the exhaustion take him and started drifting off into slumber himself. The late afternoon sunlight in the windows drew a small smile of memory of long afternoons spent lounging in bed in Hana, sleeping off the day's heat, and waiting for the revitalization of the cooler evenings. With this happier thought, he closed his eyes and followed Harry into his dreams.

A knock later in the evening while they were in the Potions lab took Harry by surprise, but not Severus. He'd been half-expecting the late night visitor and had removed the wards in anticipation.

They were making the potions for Albus; the Digitalus was fairly simple to make and had been finished for quite some time as had Harry's restorative. While Severus brewed the third one, they quietly discussed the incident with the Floo earlier. After carefully measuring the doses in Severus' gold scales, Harry rolled the pasty Digitalus into hard little balls, a mindless task compared to their thoughtful conversation. About the time they decided they really should study more 'their way' of communicating, Harry finished transfiguring, from one of Severus' spare bottles, a special metal case with which Albus could carry the medication. All he would need do was to place one of the doses under his tongue whenever he felt distress. Harry made a second, smaller container for Poppy to keep just in case.

The Panacea was more difficult and Severus knew he would have to do this every fortnight, making adjustments as Harry directed, for the brew didn't have a long shelf life. He was keeping it fairly generic right now after talking to Harry over dinner, but he knew it would grow more complex and less effective with time.

He called out, "Come," and within moments Poppy was closing the door behind her. Her face was still slightly puffy and it had been with no surprise that Harry and Severus had noted her and Albus' conspicuous absence from the Head Table at dinner. Harry walked over to her and gave her a hug, one she returned with a fervour he'd not expected. She put him away just as quickly, dabbing her eyes and saying, "Oh, I can't afford to do that again. If I start, I'm not sure I'll ever stop." Severus motioned to Harry, who came to his side taking the watch over the brew steaming over its cold fire. They had a few minutes before the next step.

Severus wrapped her in his arms, his history with her longer, his compassion easier for her to accept. She buried her face in his chest and let the tears flow again. He calmly accepted them and held her fast for quite a while until she made the motions that she wanted to step back. He let her, but he did not loose his hold entirely. He handed her a handkerchief, which she used to blot her face and, with his arm still around her shoulders, he led her to the chair at his desk, sitting her down. He propped himself on the desk top. "You'll feel better after you talk to Harry as I did. We both think we have some ways to keep Albus around for quite a bit longer."

She nodded, somewhat reassured and turned to Harry, ready to listen. Severus went back to the potion, taking over. Harry pulled a stool over and sat down so he could see them both. "I'm sorry to have created such a fuss," he began, "Albus was very sick when I began, but he's much better now. There's just a few things left that I can't fix anymore. I'm sorry."

"Don't you apologise, young man," Poppy said, her face resuming its normal no-nonsense expression, her voice steady and professional. "I know you've done all you could and more than most, including myself. I knew this day would come and although he's not all that much older than me, he's squandered much of himself on others and the fight with Voldemort. It was to be expected, in a way. What exactly is wrong with him? He wasn't very forthcoming other than to say he'd had you look at him, that there were some problems which would require him to start taking some medications, and that the end was closer than farther away. He was very vague."

Harry tilted his head raising his brows. "A bit simplistic, but accurate--he knows what the problems are, though."

Poppy chuckled, "Yes, I know he does, dear. But he also knew I'd come here anyway. Saved him the bother of reciting it himself and he never has let me come near him that way. Oh, I admit, I've peeked every now and again, but there are areas he has blocked off by his magic where I could never see. Although he's never said as much, I always suspected those blocks were defences to keep Dark Magic out rather than hide anything from me."

"Yes, his shields are formidable, but I was able to worm around them." He thought to the arcs of magical energy he'd shot to the metal ball when they had threatened to overwhelm him. Severus gave him a glance, the question obvious and Harry nodded at him in response. "Fortunately, I had the means to blow off his steam, so to speak." Poppy laughed despite herself.

Wishing he could keep the mood light, Harry showed her the two containers of the Digitalus. She knew what they were on sight and paled. "One of these is for him to keep, the other is for you in case he forgets his." He placed them in her palm and gently closed her nerveless fingers over the vials, saying, "His heart is failing and will probably be what gets him in the end. It's greatly enlarged because of the high blood pressure he suffers from when under stress and from the clogs to his arteries; the muscle is tiring. The electrical system to it is weakening as well, which has caused some arrhythmia. There's nothing more I can do to repair the heart itself, but the medicine should ease him."

Poppy had closed her eyes to the litany of trouble he was calmly reciting. "Is there anything more?"

"Just a few things, but mostly it's a matter of the general systemic deterioration one finds in the aged--he's actually pretty healthy--well, he is now." She gave him one of her 'Well, get on with it' looks he was so familiar with from his time as her apprentice. He shook his head and chuckled--it didn't matter how old he got, she would always give him that look and he was calmed by it.

"I cleaned out the plaque I found clogging the arteries in his heart; that alone will buy him quite a bit of time. Although there was some serious hardening in some other arteries I cleared, less so elsewhere, his vascular system overall is still pretty strong as is his respiratory system. While I can continue to clean out any new residue forming in his circulatory system, I can't repair the damaged vessels themselves--they're too fragile."

He cleared his throat and suppressed a yawn. He was still tired, but had insisted on helping Severus with the potions. "When I fixed his stomach problems, I had to fiddle with the organ a bit so it won't produce as much acid--he had one hell of an ulcer. It might not be a bad idea for one of us to instruct the house-elves to make his meals a little simpler than they have been. He'll need to pile up the vegetables and cut out most of his meat--and of course, the heavy sauces and gravies have to go."

She interrupted him with a snort. "Oh, he'll be right pleased with that," she declared with some of her normal merriment.

Severus chimed in, the next stage of the potion finished. "Perhaps, but he won't yell at the house-elves the same way he would with us, nor will he with the students present. By the time he can get around to it, it'll be done and over. He can still have his teas, his mulled wine, and his sweets, so we can use those as the bargaining chips we need to keep him quiet about the rest of it. And I don't think he has to cut them out entirely--I suspect he'd rather die early than have to give up everything he likes."

Poppy stared at him and laughed. "The two of you are a right pair, you are. Aye, a compromise will be best or he'll do none of it. You let me worry about it." Turning to Harry, she asked, "You're concerned about the fats?"

"The fats, the salts, the acids--you know, all the good stuff." He hesitated and forged on, "He also really needs extra vegetables, especially the hard, coloured ones."

Her mind was working overtime. "Baldion's Syndrome?" she ventured, afraid of the answer. He nodded--Baldion's Syndrome--what the Muggles called cancer. Her heart pounded in dread at this veritable death sentence. With preternatural calm, she asked, "How far is it advanced?"

"Stomach, colon, spleen, and liver. We caught it early; I was able to destroy all of it with extreme malice."

She smiled broadly, beyond relief as she asked incredulously, "You can erase any other infestations?" Baldion's Syndrome was not something she could cure; she didn't know any other Healers who could either and suspected this was solely a Harry talent--one for which she was infinitely grateful.

He grinned back at her, glad to be finally giving her some good news. "I talked him into regular checks--if I can find it, I can get rid of it."

"Anything else?" she asked, relaxing a bit; the worst was over.

"Not really. You've been treating his arthritis, very well I might add, so there was nothing else for me to do. His mind is sharp and lucid, well, as much as it ever is for him." She chuckled and smiling, he continued. "His sight and hearing are excellent as are his other senses; everything else seems to be working pretty well."

She echoed his unspoken thought, "For his age." She smiled at his discomfort.

He flushed a little and cleared his throat. "Well, it seemed a little impolitic to mention it." He glanced over and Severus was chortling as he stirred the contents of the cauldron. It was starting to give off a pleasant lemony smell.

Poppy curtailed her curiosity a moment and turned back to Harry. "Thank you, Harry. He wouldn't say--how long did you work on him?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, "I wasn't keeping track."

"I was, though--six hours, Poppy," Severus spoke up.

"That explains why he almost fell asleep over his tea," she smirked. "Oh, and he asked me to give you this." She handed him his metal ball. "What is it?"

Harry hesitated and then shrugged. "A little device I use to dissipate a patient's magic when it tries to interfere with what I'm doing." He looked closely at it, surprised, his brows raising almost into his fringe.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Severus questioned at the sudden keen look on his face.

He replied, mystified, "It's changed colours. It used to be blue and green and now it's blue and yellow. Odd that. It's never done that before."

"I suspect it's never had to channel that kind and magnitude of power before," Severus commented. "It released several times while you were working on him. One, near the end, was sustained for several minutes. Useful device. Does it just channel the energy or do you have to direct it?"

"I have to direct it. I know when you're speaking of. It was when I was cleaning out the muck in his heart. His magic was most emphatic I not be there, so I had to--move it--so to speak." He made it sound so simple when in reality he'd struggled hard and had almost lost himself in the shielding Dumbledore had in place. He reckoned that all the years of sparring with the old man had helped him work around what, in the end, were only shields. He never even considered it was due to his own immutable power.

"And how are you, Harry, after all of this?" Poppy was eyeing him professionally. "Shouldn't you be sleeping, too?"

Severus once again beat him to it. "He took a nap right afterwards and I assure you, I'll see he gets more later on. He's stubborn, but I needed him here to tell me what properties to instill in the Tonos Panacea Potion."

"He needs it?" She once again paled.

Harry put his hand over hers in her lap. "Poppy, it's a prop more than anything else, although it will help with the high blood pressure. If we can adjust it regularly, it will bolster his systems to keep them from failing too soon and help prevent cascade failures. He's not actively dying." Yet.

She shook herself--the need for the Panacea Potion put the whole thing in a different light. Made it more real somehow. She took a deep breath against the tears stinging the backs of her eyes. "That's more than I could do. How long does he have?"

Severus replied gently, "Poppy, you know better than to ask that. We have no idea. I can tell you, this batch is more like a strong tonic than anything. It should give him more energy and help with digestion."

She looked over at Harry. He shrugged. "As long as we can keep his spirits up and keep him from dwelling on it, should be quite a while. But a number? No, I'm sorry, I fabricated all my Divination homework."

Some moments later (and still chuckling), Poppy reached into the pocket of her robe and handed him a vial of the restorative potion. "Knowing you usually work in the hospices where there is a ready supply, I brought you this in case you had none of your own." Before he could reply, she ruffled his hair affectionately and standing from the chair, walked over to the cauldron, cautiously peering into it. "You know, in all the years you've been doing it, Severus, I never have actually seen you make the potions with which you so amply provide the infirmary." She inhaled deeply. "This one smells good--what's wrong with it?"

Harry laughed at the sour look on Severus' face. He harumphed before replying, "It was Harry's idea. He wanted to add some sherbet lemons to it, hoping to make it taste better. It won't harm it any and if it makes it easier to take--"

"You're a softy, Severus," she chortled, clearly not believing him.

Severus looked between her and a smirking Harry, his brow raised. "There is no need to get insulting. I merely concurred that medicine is easier to take if it is less obnoxious." He levelled a scathing glare at Harry who was covering his mouth--he'd allow Severus his little deception as the idea had been solely his; Harry'd had nothing to do with it.

"A right softy," she repeated, laughing softly, her look affectionate.

Severus rolled his eyes in resignation and for a small, blessed while, in the jocular, desperate manner of people covering their fears and sorrows, the three of them continued in a happier tone, the Medi-witch and Healer teasing the Potions master unmercifully about his hidden clemency until it was time to decant the potion.

The smiles regretfully dissolved from their faces when Severus gave Poppy the finished bottle and a small cup, saying more seriously, "He needs to take one cupful right before bed, preferably at the same time every night. It will work better when he's not active." He rotated the bottle held loosely in her hands until the back label was visible. Tapping the neatly written words with one stained finger, he continued, "Just so you know, there are a couple of very mild soporifics, Chamomile and Valerian, in the brew to help him sleep. Right now it's mainly herbal with just enough magic to bind it." He ran the finger still on the label down its length. "Here's the full list of ingredients. I promise I will let you know when we have to start using the stronger formulas."

Nodding, she sighed heavily as she said, "Thank you. I know how much you care about him and it makes me feel less alone in this whole thing." She eyed them and in a brisker tone, went on, "Now, off to bed, you two." She thought about what she'd just said. "To sleep!" With a watery smile she gave them each a brief hug and was out the door before they could see her cry again.

Severus and Harry stared worriedly at the closed door for a few moments before glancing at each other, heaving mutual sighs of their own. Wordlessly, they set about cleaning up the mess, the spells flying as ingredients soared back to their respective shelves and bottles to their cabinets. When the last cauldron had been scrubbed and everything was secured, Severus captured Harry from behind as he was hanging up his ancient work smock. Kissing his neck, he growled softly, "A softy, eh, Potter?"

Turning around in the loose circle of Severus' embrace to face him, Harry pressed close, chuckling. "Well, not now." Running his hands up the arms enfolding him, he murmuring huskily, "What say you we go to bed?"

Removing his hands from Harry's waist to cover an unwelcome yawn, Severus stepped away, heading for the door. He tossed over his shoulder, "That's not a bad idea. We both need to sleep."

Harry caught up with him as he was about to turn the knob. "I need something else more--and I think, perhaps, you do, too." He put both hands on Severus' face and kissed him deeply. Severus groaned and folded him in his arms, the need irresistible. When he stood back, Harry gave him a charming smile. "We'll sleep better for it," he coaxed.

Even Severus couldn't deny Harry had a point. They went back to their quarters where Severus taught Harry the soft strains of a new lullaby.

TBC