Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 03 : Epithalamium

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes
Chapter Twenty Three : Eau de Harry

25 October 2003 (continued)

5:00 pm

Magistra Carlotta Quiesta, Master Healer Specialist, Sanos Professor at St. John's College, author of 219 papers spanning her 35 year career, two time recipient of the Order of Merlin (First and Second Class) for her work during both halves of the war, and poet laureate, was nervous. When the fire-call from Madam Pomfrey came in, she'd just emerged from a long leisurely bath, having forgot to seal her Floo against unwelcome callers. She supposed she should be grateful it was Poppy who'd called her and not that rogue of a headmaster, harmless though he was.

She blamed her lapse of routine security (not to mention modesty) on a last-minute rearrangement of her schedule, having received a mysterious Owl Post from Severus a few days before. Not seemingly urgent, his note had piqued her curiosity (as she was sure it was meant to do) and so given the amount of time she suspected he would grant her after the ceremony, and given her normally tight schedule, she thought it best to talk to the Potions master before he got married. Besides, she had thought it might also provide him with a timely 'distraction' from whatever nerves the normally stoic man could possibly suffer.

Almost two hours ahead of what would normally be expected when attending such an event, she'd just dropped her bathing sheet to cross the room when a disembodied female voice floated across her bedchamber.

"Carlotta, are you... OH! My! I am sorry about this," Poppy had stammered without her usual grace.

Somewhat amused once she pulled her heart back from under her toes, Carlotta would be damned before she let on even the smallest hint of embarrassment over her blatant state of undress. Moving at a normal pace, she nonchalantly crossed in front of the fireplace to retrieve her dressing gown off the back of the chair at her dressing table. Slipping on the silky garment, she faced Poppy, pulling the ties closed. "Considering I expected you to be knee-deep in last minute preparations for tonight, I assume this is not a social call."

"I wish it was, Carlotta. We've an emergency and need your services urgently."

Quiesta tilted her head at the green fire bearing Poppy's head and shoulders. "And this is something beyond Mr. Potter's abilities?"

"No, he's perfectly capable of it, but--" she hesitated, obviously uncomfortable. Quiesta's interest was piqued. "Look, I'll fill you in on the particulars when you arrive. The patient is Professor Snape and the headmaster has expressed the opinion you would, perhaps, be better suited for the task than Mr. Potter."

Quiesta raised a perfectly shaped brow. "Indeed. I can see where the headmaster might have some concerns. Let me dress and get my things together and I will be over straight away. Which Floo?"

Poppy sighed with relief. "Thank you, Carlotta. I know this is short notice, but I'm sure you understand the need to finish before this evening. Use the infirmary Floo; we're holding it open for you."

With a nod she said, "Very well. I will be there as soon as I'm able."

Within seconds, the fire resuming its normal colour, Carlotta secured it and went about getting ready. As she donned her working robes she contemplated what little she knew. Severus Snape was injured and she was expected to heal him. Quickly. In time for the ceremony tonight. A most daunting task given how little information Poppy had been willing to give her over the notoriously unsecure Floo network.

Gathering the jewelry already laid out on her dresser, she scolded herself for the inappropriate but inevitable irritation she was feeling that it was now most unlikely she would find out what Snape had wanted to talk to her about until well after his return from his honeymoon; Carlotta did not deal well with delayed gratification at the best of times.

Preparing a small case on the bed, she shrank and packed her formal robes for later along with all the personal items she deemed necessary to make herself presentable. Knowing it would not help her or Snape if she arrived flustered and unable to focus properly, she automatically fell into the routine she used to prepare herself for work. As part of her discipline she examined the unusual panic for its source so she could remove it. Normally when she did this she would find it was nothing more than a basic fear of the unknown, something she could easily discard; after all she was a Master, her skills secure. However, this time she found the time constraints combined with whom she was expected to heal at the root of her mixed feelings. Digging deeper, she realised the rest of her uneasiness was caused by a single question, one she could not answer, and therefore one she must ignore for now.

Why was Harry Potter not healing Severus Snape himself?

Well, she would never find out and never get done if she didn't get going. Holding her case securely, she threw some Floo powder into the fireplace, calling out, "Hogwarts' Infirmary," and entered the fireplace. She hated going by Floo, but since Apparation was out of the question from both her end and at her destination, and time was of the essence, she saw little choice in the matter. Dozens of grates later, she stepped out of the infirmary fireplace to be greeted by a house-elf, who promptly sealed the Floo behind her and, with a snap of her fingers, cleaned the residual soot off her clothes and skin.

"Magistra Quiesta will please follow Farly to Madam Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore?" she asked politely.

"After you, Farly," Quiesta said, falling behind the infirmary's house-elf. She looked around as they made their way from the back, noticing the layout had not changed much since the end of the war except there were far fewer beds. Carlotta had spent far more time here than she'd ever wanted. Had it really been over four years since she'd been here last? It seemed like yesterday.

As Poppy and Albus rose from their chairs to greet her, she could see Snape on the bed beyond them. From a distance, he looked merely asleep, the faint rise and fall of his chest normal and regular. Nearing them, she observed two green bottles sitting on the table by the bed. If she recalled correctly, the distinctive flagons held a potion of Snape's devising from years ago which was usually quite effective against Dark Art spells. Ah well, it wouldn't do to guess now when she was only seconds away from finding out what she needed to know.

Inclining her head at each of them in turn, she said without preamble, "Albus. Poppy. You indicated some urgency, so forgive me if I dispense with the pleasantries. What's happened to our esteemed Potions Master and why do you need my services when you have a perfectly competent Sanos Healer at hand?"

"It's a Confundus Desparo Curse," Poppy said calmly as if the simple statement explained everything.

And it did. "Hmm. Not any easy one by any means. I see you've used Severus' potion," she said, pointing to the bottles on the table.

"Yes, we gave him a dose of the Infensus Curatio Potion, which seemed to at least ease his ongoing discomfort. Afterwards, Albus tried to break the curse, but was only marginally successful. You should know that when they brought him in, he was suffering from deep shock from physical torture and the lingering after-effects of arrested hypothermia and dehydration. Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody had already attempted rudimentary in-the-field healing, but he still had multiple lacerations as well as deep bruising, and a deep knife wound, easily healed, in his left shoulder. And of course, over all of this was the curse."

Ah, that's right, she'd forgot the name, but not what it did. Going back to task, she mused, "Shock and hypothermia? You have removed all traces?" When Poppy nodded, Quiesta said, "Thank you. As usual, you make my job so much easier." Addressing her next question to the headmaster, she asked, "How far is the curse mitigated?"

Dumbledore spoke up. "I managed to shrink its influence, with Harry's help, but was unable to contain it enough to break the cycle of despair. Severus makes it worse by fighting us because he's been stripped of all hope with a Draught of Despair. And, of course, the Marks carrying it are permanent. While the spell itself is appalling, I'm sure you'll understand when I say the workmanship in this case is exceptional and perfect."

Squelching her curiosity, Quiesta nodded her comprehension. "Perfect, you say? I know of only three practitioners who can do so and one of them is comfortably dead, one of them is too infirm, and the other--" She thought about it a moment, then sighed. "It doesn't matter. In any event, I'm familiar with his methods."

She approached Severus and visually examined him. Reaching a hand out, she lightly traced the eyes on his chest. "You know, Severus, most people just settle for tattoos," she murmured. "Beautiful work in an awful kind of way, though." Running her fingers lightly between the two Marks, she felt the edges of a third. "Hello. What's this?" Frowning slightly and bending closer to look, she touched it again, surprise flitting across her features when the clean magic tingled against her skin. Straightening, she turned back to face the silent Medi-witch and headmaster, saying matter of factly, "Most intriguing. What was the sequence of events?"

Dumbledore considered her a moment, saying slowly, "After the curse was 'set', a certain someone prepared Severus by using a Draught of Despair while telling him Harry was dead. Sometime later, the Confundus Desparo was activated by the one who cast it after he'd incapacitated Severus with a throwing knife."

It would never be said that Quiesta was a slow, stupid woman and such were her own experiences healing and dodging the sometimes deadly results caused by Voldemort's minions, it took her less than 10 seconds to deduce what Albus was trying not to tell her outright. "Malfoy always did like hedging his bets when playing his little games of chance," Quiesta muttered half to herself. "Why is nothing ever simple?" She shook her head, ridding it of old memories. "Albus, if Severus is actively fighting us, any attempt will ultimately fail even if it were Harry doing the work."

"So I understand, which is why I have sent for something which will provide great assistance eliminating at least this part of the problem. Remus should be here any moment with it."

Quiesta raised a brow. "Can I assume that, as usual, you're going to leave me in suspense as to what 'this' is?" Expecting and getting no reply, Quiesta muttered under her breath, "You're such a drama queen."

Bristling at Albus' outright laughter, Quiesta huffed, "You do realise that, even if you are successful with whatever Mr. Lupin is bringing, the most I could accomplish with the Sanos is a containment to prevent the curse from affecting Snape too much until such a time Potter can eradicate it?"

"That is all we expect. Severus must be sufficiently healed to make vows with Harry tonight," he replied with utter seriousness.

"I understand," she said. Then something he'd said earlier caught up with her. "How is it you were able to involve Harry in the first stage?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I think that is best explained by reading Severus. Perhaps now would be a good time for an initial exploration," he replied in his usual cryptic fashion.

Quiesta glanced at Poppy, who shrugged and rolled her eyes; they both knew better than trying to wring an answer out of the cagey headmaster when he chose not to reveal something. "Very well, let's see what we can see, then."

Quiesta moved to the head of the bed, where Poppy had cleared a space for her to work. She placed her fingers on Severus' temples and with little effort sank into the pathways. It took her only a few moments to find her objective and, moving around the core, she studied it in great detail, paying attention to how the second ward she sensed, the one in the middle, elegantly held the curse at bay. She could see Albus' temporary (at best) shoring, but as the second ward was doing its job admirably and given the nature of the Sanos, she quickly mapped out a course of action to tie the curse and the ward together to make her 'container' all the stronger.

As she was about to pull out, satisfied she knew what to do (assuming Albus could pull off his other 'miracle') she felt him--Harry's light presence residing in the ward. 'Oh ho, Potter. So that's how you were able to help Albus. You've kept the ward steady. Nicely done, if I may say so.'

She could feel his startled reaction. 'Magistra Quiesta?'

If she could have bowed she would have done so. As it was, her humour came through as she replied, 'One and the same.'

'You're ready to start?' Harry asked.

'Not yet. I'm came in only to reconnoitre; I wanted to see for myself the curse's manifestations. Albus says Severus has lost all hope--it's a serious complication and I am waiting on some 'mystery' solution. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, hmmm?'

'One Hope on the way.'

'Oh? How so?' She could feel Harry chuckle. When she got no other explanation, she commented, 'You, young Harry, have been associating with the headmaster far too long.'

'Insults are not the way to get answers, Magistra.'

'I'm leaving now. Someone has just arrived--I 'hope' it's what we need. Until then...'

When she received no response but his amusement, she pulled out and away as quickly as she'd gone in. Before turning to greet the newcomer, she murmured, "Cheeky brat--'hope', indeed." Moving away from the head of the bed she joined the others and Remus Lupin, whom she knew well from the war as she was one of only a handful who could treat and cure injured werewolves successfully. She'd seen him more times than either one of them cared to remember.

He'd only just arrived. In one hand he carried an empty, dark blue velvet pouch, in the other he raised a small crystal vial of potion up to the light, watching the substance within sparkle as it rolled and curled languidly. Quiesta knew immediately what it was and was about to caution him not to drop it when Remus spoke up. "What is this, Albus? I've never seen anything like it before."

Dumbledore stretched out a hand as if to catch it should it fall, saying calmly, "An Ipsemet Potion."

Closing his fist over the vial, Remus gaped, his startled face changing to queasy then awed. He'd obviously heard of an Ipsemet Potion, but Quiesta knew that unless one was a Healer administering it, most people never saw one. Each one unique, the potion carried a bit of the very essence of the potion maker--in this case Harry--his body, his heart, his soul, his being. The 'cost' of that tiny vial was dear, not only in money and risk to obtain the ingredients (which included such things as fresh basilisk milk and unicorn tears) but also to the potioner, who (among other things) literally cut a pound of flesh from themselves to form the matrix of the brew.

The folk who made them, such as Aurors and Unspeakables and Curse Breakers who could afford it, kept them well hidden, usually in Gringotts, until needed for emergencies should they ever be separated from their minds. While it would not restore memories, a single dose could restore the person. She'd urged Harry make one his first year working with her; all Dark Arts Healers kept one, often trading services for the more obscure ingredients. She remembered he'd been very familiar with the potion without her having to explain it, saying at the time that he'd found and used his mother's to help defeat Voldemort.

However, just from looking at it, Quiesta knew this was not the one he'd made all those years ago; it was very different, the crisp flashing colours deeper and richer with his greater life experience. No, this one was obviously only days away from the cauldron. 'A gift then,' she thought, astounded. For one to give it freely to another was the ultimate gesture of trust between wizards. Obviously never done lightly, it was hardly done at all. 'A small piece of Harry for Severus.' Knowing intimately what Harry did with his art and the risks he took, the gift took on a special meaning as it was obviously meant to console should anything ever happen to him.

Remus seemed to understand as well and hastily, but with the utmost care, handed the potion over to Dumbledore, who with equal vigilance, moved to the head of the bed beyond Severus' sight. Watching Poppy, he said quietly, "As we discussed, my dear. Wake him, please."

Quiesta tensed. This was, perhaps, the most dangerous part to the patient as any untoward movement could undo the work of hours if the person was not controlled immediately. Poppy held her wand at the ready and in rapid succession cast an "Evigilo" and a "Ligo", the first waking the man on the bed, the second binding him, leaving him the ability to move his face but not his head. Severus woke abruptly, surprisingly alert, but Quiesta supposed it was probably the habit of a lifetime to wake quickly and fully given what he'd done for the Order. All too soon, his face turned dark with the furious effort of breaking the bonds holding him fast.

He glared at those standing at the bed. "What is the meaning of this? Why am I bound? Where is Albus? Does he have more lies to tell me?"

Quiesta was taken aback by his unleashed fury. This was not despair, it was raw anger. Confused, she moved to the opposite side of the bed and, sitting down on the edge, bent close to him, saying quietly, "The bindings are for your own protection, Severus. You cannot be healed right now without them. Don't you remember? Avery marked you with a Confundus Desparo curse we've been unable to break." She moved an errant strand of hair falling in his face, the gentle gesture and words at odds with her normal acerbic wit.

His voice breaking on a cry of sorrow, Severus said roughly, "I don't know why they bothered bringing you here; you're wasting your time. Go away. I don't want to be healed. I don't even want to be here. Release me." His voice sank to a whisper only she could hear. "Please, Carlotta, help me join Harry."

Appalled, she asked him gently, taking his hand, "You would take your own life, Severus?"

His words forceful, he cried, "Damn it! He's dead. Will no one leave me be?" He closed his eyes, saying piteously, "It's not my life anymore if he's not in it."

Quiesta glanced up at Dumbledore, who nodded. "Harry is alive, Severus. I spoke to him myself a few minutes ago."

He stared into her eyes trying to read her; she knew it would be futile--she had too many blocks against just such an invasion. Defeated, he declared emphatically, "You lie like the others. Why, Carlotta?"

Stung, she retorted without thinking, "Yes, Severus, I'm lying to you. I enjoy lying. Do it all the time."

Severus' eyes opened wide, then narrowed. "You dare mock me?"

"Only when you make irrational, stupid statements like the last one. Really, Severus, your brain cells haven't been damaged, so use them. Have I ever lied to you, even when it would have been infinitely more convenient to do so?"

Using their exchange as a distraction, Albus stretched out his hands, holding the vial under Severus' nose. Seeing what he was doing, Severus tried to move, but unable to escape, his chest rose and fell rapidly as he began to hyperventilate in panic, his eyes tracking wildly. Quiesta reached over and with a quiet, "Albus, a little warning is never remiss--your bedside manner leaves much to be desired," placed her hand on Severus' chest, whispering a spell that soon had him breathing deeply despite his visible fear. Looking at him kindly, she said dryly, "It's all right, Severus, Albus was just playing doctor." She smiled when Severus snorted with derision.

Working the stopper, Albus ignored them and closely watched the steady rise and fall of Severus' chest and, when the moment was right, broke the seal. A fine vapour sparkled out of the vial, it's foggy whiteness curling and twisting in the air for an instant before disappearing into Severus with a single inhalation. His body convulsed once, a deep shiver running through him as if he were violently cold, the trembling ceasing as abruptly as it started, leaving him limp on the bed. Albus looked thoughtful as he walked back around to the side of the bed near Poppy, replacing the stopper in the vial.

Severus' eyes warily tracked Albus' progress.

"Feel better, my boy?" Albus asked uncertainly.

"That was Harry," Severus replied incredulously, "I could smell him, feel him." He looked around at his friends ringing the bed. "He's really alive?"

Breathing a heartfelt sigh of relief, Quiesta removed the spells binding him, ready to reset them if necessary. "Congratulations, Albus. It looks like you pulled off another miracle." Poppy's chuckle was echoed by Remus'.

Slowly, with Quiesta and Poppy's help, Severus sat up, his shaking hands loose in his lap, still covered by a sheet. His face tightening in pain, he took several deep breaths to master it. Once he realised they were still holding onto him, one on either side of the bed, he shook them off, strangely silent.

Smiling, Dumbledore said with his usual cheer, "Yes, Harry is alive. Finished the Ipsemet Potion himself just two days ago. He made it for you as a wedding gift, only I don't think he knew you would need it so soon."

Severus nodded and closed his eyes, concentrating. After a few moments, the despair was evident as he opened them. His brow furrowed with determination and perplexity, he asked, "If Harry is alive, why isn't he here? I'm having difficulty understanding why he's stayed away--and why I can't find him now."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. He glanced guiltily around at the other three people near the bed before saying apologetically, "Harry's absence is my doing, Severus."

A grimace passed over the Potions master's face before he said, "Why am I not surprised. Hurry, Albus, and tell me why. I don't know how much longer I can ignore this damned thing."

"There are two reasons Harry is not present, the first one being he would not have been able to help me activate and strengthen your personal wards had he been here. He still needs to be near the object to do so and right now, until Carlotta can get to work, those wards are the only thing holding Avery's curse at bay. The protection they afford is tenuous, at best." Eyeing Severus' growing scepticism, Albus continued hastily. "Lucius was mistaken when he said Harry was dead, but he did not lie in that he thought Harry dead; he tried to have him killed last night. Between the extra spells I cast and the wards you both share, he will be safer in your quarters until the appointed time."

Dumbledore sat on the edge of the bed and took Severus' hands, saying softly, "It's good to have you back, my boy. And I am sorry you have been so sorely hurt; I had no idea the mission would be so brutal. Please forgive me that I keep Harry away from you until later this evening, but until then, you must fight the feelings the curse is giving you. Just keep reminding yourself that Harry is alive and will meet you soon, otherwise this," he placed the empty vial in Severus' hand, folding the fingers over it, his own keeping them closed, "will have been used in vain. And you, of all people, know the true cost of this potion."

Severus nodded his understanding, but narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "How do I know you didn't find the potion after he died?"

Remus stepped closer. "Ah, Harry was concerned you might feel that way." Seeing that Snape was listening, he went on, "He asked me to pass on a few messages, the first being that he loves you and he'll be there, waiting for you, at the appointed time. That he wanted to be here when you woke." If Remus was surprised at the softening in Severus' face, he forbore to mention it. "He also wanted me to tell you that the person who gave me the potion wants to know what happens when you cross a squid with a cock."

It started as a small chuckle, building until Severus shocked them all by tipping his head back and, for the first time since he'd left the castle the night before, laughed long and low. His arm wrapped around his stomach, Severus fell back on the bed, shaking his head.

"I think I missed the joke somewhere," Remus mumbled. "All right, out with it, you auld sod. I've been wracking my brains for the last half-hour trying to figure it out. What the hell does it mean?" Remus asked with a mock growl.

Wiping laugh-tears out of his eyes, Severus gasped, "Squick."

"What?"

"You get a squick." Looking around at the people standing stoically by the bed, Severus muttered, "Never mind. Private joke." He eyed Dumbledore, the smile disappearing as quickly as it came. "I believe you, but I don't know how long I can hold out against this. The feelings are strong and already I am beginning to doubt you even with the proof you have brought."

"I think that's my cue to get started," Quiesta said, getting ready to move to the head of the bed. "Severus, I am going to need you to stay still, do you think you're capable of it?"

"I don't know, Carlotta. This curse causes more than just despair, the paranoia exceeds even my normal bounds," he replied grimly. "There is one thing, though. Albus, if I remember the Schema of the curse, Carlotta will not be able to heal it, will she?"

Dumbledore replied evenly, "No, she can merely contain it. Only Harry, after the ceremony tonight, can break it completely."

Urgently, he asked, "Will the remnants of the curse affect our binding?"

Quiesta hadn't thought of this. While it was out of her realm of experience, she had a few ideas. Slowly the words came, forming theories as she spoke. "I'm not sure. Although I can see what needs to be accomplished and can do it, I've never done it this way before. Usually the person affected is either already married, in which case I use their bond to break the curse, or if not, I use the Sanos to make them more comfortable until the end. I suppose it's possible, if the containment fails, that the curse could block the binding as it would change the intentions of one of the parties involved, but I can't see that happening unless--" her eyes widened in dismay "--unless you dwell on it; the memories of the act itself, of the words used in the spell could be enough to reactivate it. Or if Harry were to see it, he might inadvertently..." her voice trailed off, the thought unspeakable.

She could see Snape easily following her logic. "Hmmm. I wondered about that. What if Albus were to Obliviate me?"

Her mind working quickly, she said, "Yes, it might work. Albus?"

Dumbledore had been following the exchange, his face serious. "It's an excellent idea for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that it will make your job easier, Carlotta. Although I normally prefer to use the Pensieve as it is more precise, he might not remember what it is he has to remove after he takes the first memory out. A simple Obliviate is too crude and permanent, but an Obliviate using Legilimency with a Reversus modifier should serve us well enough. Once we remove the more distressing memories," he looked at Severus significantly over his spectacles, "I will hold them until you can retrieve them at your leisure."

Severus was starting to sweat, his face pasty. He dropped his head, breaking eye contact with the headmaster as he muttered, "Harry is alive, I know he is, so damn it, go away." Twisting the sheet in his hands, he raised troubled eyes to Dumbledore, saying, "I've always trusted you, Albus. It's harder now with all that is going on inside me right now. You will give them back?"

"You have my oath on it, Severus, Wizard's Honour. If you don't come to me tomorrow for them, I will seek you out to return them."

Remus and Poppy's simultaneous, "Heard and witnessed," caused Snape to relax slightly.

Nodding, Severus said, "Just do it--and hurry."

"Where do you wish me to start?" Dumbledore asked practically.

Severus thought about it only for an instant before saying, "With Avery's 'Lady' until the moment he activated the damned thing. I suppose that should be sufficient."

Quiesta cringed as she watched Albus cast the Legilimens, thinking of Avery's 'pet'. That Severus bore no visible scars from its recent use spoke of his good fortune that Avery had decided not to use Dark magic to seal the marks while he wielded it; he'd probably not had the time to do so. She'd always hated having to heal his victims during the war; his evil had clung to everything he touched and she remembered the heart-sickening 'feel' all too well. She wasn't looking forward to working on the Potions master.

Dumbledore's "Obliviate Quod Reversus," drew her attention back to the occupant of the bed. With the removal of the memories, Severus looked disoriented and confused. Small wonder, since he now had no knowledge of why he was feeling the way he was.

Before he could respond, she said briskly, "All right, let's get started," moving to the head of the bed. "Severus, lay down, and be still. If you're not, I will have to bind you and we both know how much you'll enjoy that."

Remus spoke, relief and humour in his voice, "You never know. He does live in a dungeon, you know." Quiesta stared hard at him, years of quelling students in her eyes. Remus looked to the side, saying sheepishly, "Sorry, it was only a joke." With Severus' snort of black amusement, Remus turned back to look at him and winked.

Quiesta took a deep breath, centering herself for the work ahead. When ready, she placed her hands on Severus' temples and paused. "Ready?" she asked, waiting.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Proceed," he replied, closing his eyes.

She looked at Dumbledore and Poppy, who nodded. Remus was watching Severus intently. Closing her eyes, she sank into the pathways.

TBC