Severus might have whimpered if pain had not long ago locked his throat. The hands touching him were gentle - though even a blow would likely have felt gentle now - but his entire body was wrecked with the combination of Cruciatus and Verbere ec Salem.

Severus couldn't even make out the words he thought the wizard touching him was muttering - then again, they could only be in his head. Severus laughed wretchedly, his upper body burning with pain. It had been years since he a meeting left him so badly off; he was too valuable a piece to risk crushing, usually.

The hands demanded movement, though they took over rather than encouraging him to move himself, and Severus must have blacked out in the process, as the next thing he knew he hurt considerably less and was no longer on a cold stone floor.

"Don't fight me." This time Severus recognised his friend's voice, and could have wept as Lucius' icy magical signature extended, washing over him like a soothing balm. He might rarely admit to it, but Lucius' most powerful talent lay in healing, and the familiar sensation was blessedly welcome as it smoothed away pain and eased damage.

Severus did his best to open his shields and allow Lucius' magic to twine with his own, increasing the efficacy. The intimacy of it was so raw and intense it was almost painful, and he heard the tiny catch of Lucius' breath above him.

Then an elegant, uncallused hand curled around his own - Severus' hands had thankfully been spared the broken bones the rest of him had not, for a Potions Master with even lightly damaged hands was of less worth - and Lucius' magic flared, easing Severus back into sleep. "Rest, Severus. We need to speak when you wake, but rest."


Verbere ec Salem translates roughly to 'lash of salt' - for an even more painful spell equivalent of whipping.