The night before the surgery was the longest night Draconius had ever spent with him. Scabior was restless, fitfully tossing and turning in his sleep. He stopped breathing several times, almost losing consciousness once when Draconius had difficulty getting him to start breathing again. His fever spiked, rising to 103°, and he spent half the night alternating between shivering and sweating, until he finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep some time after three in the morning.
He awoke at half past eight in the morning, his lashes lifting to reveal tired, glassy grey-blue eyes. He lay still, gazing around the room in the dim light of the cold December morning.
Scabior didn't see his wife, and for a moment he wondered where she had gone. He knew she'd been beside him throughout the night, but now she was no where to be found.
Maybe this was a dream. One very real, agonizing dream that had trapped him and made him suffer for countless nights. Maybe everything he'd experienced yesterday was a dream, maybe none of this was real...
Scabior slipped one hand out from under the blankets, massaging his throat as he stared up at the ceiling. 'If this is all a dream, then why does my throat 'urt so much?' he thought. 'Why is it still so 'ard for me to breathe?'
He turned his head as he heard the bedroom door creak, and saw his wife enter the room. She had a tray in her hands, and in the pale morning sunlight Scabior saw a roll of gauze, an oversized pair of tweezers that slightly resembled muggle forceps, and a bottle of some dark, sinister looking potion on the tray.
"Oh no..." Scabior moaned, closing his eyes and turning away from the sight of the objects on the tray.
Why couldn't he wake up from this dream? Why couldn't he escape this nightmare?
"Scabior, you're awake," said Draconius, setting the tray down on the nightstand.
He opened his eyes, his pulse accelerating from nervous anxiety as he looked back at her. "I don't want to do this," he whispered.
"I know, sweetie," Draconius soothed, her tone sympathetic and kind. She sat down on the side of the bed, and took his hand in both of hers.
He was feverishly hot to the touch, his hair drenched with perspiration. She ran her fingers over the back of his hand, gently caressing his warm flesh in an effort to keep him calm.
"I promise it'll be okay," she told him. "It's really not that bad. And afterwards, you should be completely free of sore throats. You'll also be able to breathe easier and sleep better at night." When this didn't seem to improve his mood, Draconius added, "You can eat all the ice cream you want, Scabior." But her husband still looked discouraged.
Draconius sighed. Nothing she tried was working. Scabior remained despondent, not even looking at her as she spoke.
She let go of his hand, placing it atop the covers on the bed. He hesitantly glanced over as she reached for the bottle on the tray. Scabior hadn't noticed the spoon on the tray before. And as he watched, she uncorked the bottle and poured some of the potion into the spoon.
"Sweetie," Draconius said softly, holding the spoon infront of him. "I need you to take this. It's a sleeping draught. It'll put you to sleep for the operation."
Scabior looked at the spoon in her hand, then back up at her. He was silently debating in his mind whether or not he should go through with this.
"Please, Scabior," Draconius said, the look in her eyes pleading with him, almost begging him to take the potion. "I promise I will take good care of you. All you have to do is take this. Then it'll all be over when you wake up."
'If I could just close my eyes,' Scabior thought. 'If only I could wake up somewhere else...'
Slowly, ever so slowly, his lips parted, allowing her to feed him the potion. She slipped the spoon into his mouth, and he could feel the potion beginning to take effect just seconds after swallowing the dark, murky liquid.
'I want to close my eyes,' he thought, as the images before him blurred and began to fade in and out of focus. 'I want to wake up somewhere else... Somewhere far, far away...'
The room was growing dark. His eyes began to close as he felt the potion pulling him down into a deep, dreamless sleep. He was tired of fighting, tired of always being sick and miserable. Whatever lay on the other side of this couldn't possibly be worse than the suffering he had endured for so long.
'Just let me sleep...' he thought. 'I'm so tired. Let me wake up somewhere else...'
Scabior closed his eyes, and within a matter of seconds he was sound asleep.
Once he was asleep, Draconius began by conjuring a bubble filled with clean, fresh oxygenated air that floated lazily in the air over the bed. She then waved her wand at it and said, "Spiratio cuniculatus."
The bubble began to flex and stretch, changing shape as it morphed into a long, slender tube-like shape. Draconius motioned with her wand, sending the slender tube into Scabior's left nostril, effectively creating a breathing tube to help him breathe during the operation.
"Aeris fluent," Draconius said, moving her wrist in a circular motion. The lower end of the tube that had been threaded into Scabior's airway opened, allowing a constant stream of oxygen to flow into his lungs.
Draconius held her wand over his mouth and softly murmured, "Hiulcus." The spell caused Scabior's mouth to open wide, giving her a clear view of his swollen, infected tonsils.
She picked up the roll of gauze, and cut off a piece of it using a cutting hex. Draconius then used the long pair of tweezers to pack the gauze into Scabior's throat, just below the base of his tongue. This throat packing was used to prevent blood from seeping into his stomach, which could easily make him sick and cause vomiting after surgery.
The breathing tube remained intact as Draconius carefully tucked the wad of gauze into his throat, which was no easy task seeing as how his tonsils were so badly swollen they almost completely blocked his airway. The tube was durable enough that it wasn't likely to tear if she accidentally poked it while packing Scabior's throat.
Now that everything was in order, it was time to begin the operation.
She began by using the oversized pair of tweezers to grasp his left tonsil, gently pulling the swollen lump of flesh medially. Draconius slipped her wand into his mouth and muttered, "Diffindo antias."
Using a severing charm, she began to carefully cut away the inflamed tissues that were crowding his throat. She moved her wand with the skill and precision of a muggle surgeon, her wand acting as a scapal as she worked to remove the ailing Snatcher's inflamed tonsils.
Every now and then she would pause in her work, using her wand to siphon off any excess saliva or blood that accumulated in the back of his throat. This made the operation progress slower than it would have gone in a muggle hospital. For although her wand was all she needed to perform the the operation, the lack of various surgical tools and equipment slowed her progress.
It took some time, but after about twenty minutes Draconius finally completed the process of removing Scabior's tonsils. And as an added precaution, she went ahead and removed his adenoids as well, just to make sure this sort of thing wasn't likely to happen again. She then uttered a brief incantation that caused the tip of her wand to burn with intense heat, so that she could cauterize the bleeding areas where his tonsils and adenoids had been.
When it was all over, Draconius removed the packing from his throat, as well as the breathing tube, then waved her wand over him, removing the spell that held his mouth open for the operation.
Melody was sitting on the floor outside her parents' bedroom when the door opened, and her mother walked out into the hall.
"It's all over, Melody. Do you want to come see him now?"
The teenaged witch scrambled up off the floor, moving past her mother and into the room where her father was asleep in bed.
"He's going to be asleep for a while longer," said Draconius, turning and following behind her daughter. "But you're welcome to sit with me while we wait for him to wake up."
Melody looked down at her father as she slowly approached the bed. He was sleeping peacefully, his chest rising and falling with deep, easy breathing, and that alone was a relief, considering all the nights he'd struggled and fought to breathe.
"It's really over?" Melody asked, glancing back at her mother.
He'd been sick for so long. Practically every memory she had of him growing up was of Scabior being sick with something. From her fifth birthday party to the summer barbecue with the Malfoys, he'd missed out on so much because of his frequent illnesses. It was going to be very different now that Scabior wasn't going to be sick all the time.
Draconius nodded. "It's over, sweetie. However he's going to be in a lot of pain for the next several days. It's going to feel like the worst sore throat he's ever had, and he won't be able to talk for a while. So it's going to be a lot quieter around here while your father is recovering."
Melody sat down on the foot of the bed, watching as her father relaxed in deep, peaceful slumber. Several minutes passed. Scabior shifted slightly in his sleep, then rolled over onto his side and continued sleeping.
"When do you think he'll wake up?" Melody asked.
"Hard to say," Draconius replied. She eased the covers up under his chin, then fluffed his pillow to make him more comfortable. "He's very tired. His body is exhausted from constantly being ill. It wouldn't surprise me if he kept sleeping even after the potion I gave him wears off."
"Does he get to eat ice cream? I've always heard that people who have their tonsils out can eat all the ice cream they want."
"That isn't exactly true," Draconius said at length. "He can have sorbet and other water and juice based ice creams, but no dairy products because they create phlegm, which causes the patient to cough and clear their throat. Your father doesn't need that while he's recovering from surgery."
Their attention was drawn back to Scabior as the Snatcher started to move and stir beneath the covers.
"Scabior?" Draconius said gently. "Are you awake, sweetie?"
He could hear them, but their voices lingered on the edge of his consciousness, somewhere far away. He was still deep in the distant land of sleep, and couldn't make out exactly what was being said.
"Scabior."
There it was again. Closer this time. That sweet, delicate voice he recognized as belonging to his wife.
"Dad, can you hear me?"
And Melody too.
They were getting closer. He thought he could just make out what was being said. The blackness slowly began to fade, and Scabior opened his eyes to see his wife and daughter gazing down at him.
"Yay! He's awake!" Melody cheered happily. "Welcome back to the land of the living, dad."
Scabior's gaze drifted from his daughter to his wife, who was smiling at him as she stood beside his bed. He was still feeling rather groggy, and it took him a minute process what was happening around him.
"There's my brave man," said Draconius. "How are you feeling?"
Scabior opened his mouth to speak, but not a single word escaped his lips, not even a whisper. He tried to swallow, and immediately regretted his decision as he felt an intense, burning pain in the back of his throat.
Draconius saw him grimace as he closed his eyes against the pain, his mouth opening slightly in wordless torment, and it was enough to answer her question.
"That's what I thought," she said, her care and concern showing in her sympathetic tone. "I'll get you something to help relieve the pain in a little while. You can't have anything right away due to the nauseating after effects some sleeping potions have."
Scabior had no idea how much pain he'd be in after the operation. It hurt just to breathe, his every breath burning like acid against the raw edges of his throat. He could neither breathe nor swallow without making the pain worse, and already he wished that he was still asleep, that he'd never awoken to this nightmare.
His wife started stroking his hair, speaking softly in an effort to take his mind off his discomfort.
"There there, sweetie. I know it hurts, but you'll feel better in the long run from having this done."
Even if he could speak, words were not enough to describe the sheer agony he felt. However the look on his face spoke volumes to her. She knew that inside he was screaming, and that the worst part of it was that he could not give voice to his pain, to release the torment that was welling up inside. Even victims of the Cruciatus curse could scream. But Scabior had no way to vent his misery.
Nothing in the world could have prepared him for this. And to think, his wife had told him it wasn't that bad.
'Wha does she know?' Scabior thought bitterly. 'She's never been through this. She doesn't know 'ow it feels to 'ave 'er guts ripped out through 'er throat.'
His daughter scooted sideways on the bed, crawling across the mattress on her hands and knees, then laid down beside Scabior so that she was facing him in bed. She too saw the expression on his face and read what it meant. She could see that he was miserable.
"I'm sorry you feel so bad, daddy," said Melody. "We love you, though. We just want you to feel better."
Scabior moaned, the sound coming out as no more than a breathy sigh. He couldn't take anymore of this. He closed his eyes, letting the peaceful blackness surround him, pulling him down and taking him away from his pain.