Shattered

"Normally I don't discuss the results of examinations when the spouse of the patient is present," Healer Mugwort said, looking from Hermione to Severus and back. Smiling wryly at Severus' instant scowl and the brown bristling of Hermione's hair, she added, "But in your case, I'll make an exception."

"Thank you," Hermione murmured. Severus didn't speak, but his expression softened.

"Let's talk about Severus' condition first. The good news: It is a rare affliction, but not without precedents. The medical term is 'Barrie syndrome'. After the mediwizard who first researched." Muriel smiled at Hermione. "You may have read about it – Barrie described it in one of his novels that were also published in the Muggle world."

For a moment Hermione stared at the Healer. Then she blinked and gasped. "Peter Pan?!"

Muriel nodded. "That's the one."

"So what is this – this 'Barrie syndrome'?" Severus asked. "What do I need to know about it?"

"That would be the bad news," Muriel replied. "We don't really know much about it. It seems to be connected with near-death experiences. And there don't appear to be any negative effects on the patient's health." She hesitated, and there was something in the way she looked at Severus that made the tiny hairs at the nape of Hermione's neck stand on edge.

"However," Muriel went on, "there are also much older sources that deal with the same symptoms at least. And these sources …" The Healer sighed. "They intimate that the cause for these particular symptoms may be a – hmm – a fracture, if you will, of the soul. The legends claim that they are the result of a wizard selling his shadow to the devil. That's rubbish, of course."

"But you think that it is possible that –" Hermione paused and had to swallow. "That Severus – that his soul is –"

"Shattered." Mugwort nodded, her gaze warm with sympathy. "That is at least an option I cannot exclude at this point in time."

"What does that mean?" Hermione asked. Her voice sounded too high, and unsteady with fear. Blindly she reached for her husband with her right hand. He did not draw back, but simply sat motionless, his eyes fixed on the Healer.

"Soul magic is one of the most arcane areas of magical theory," Muriel stated. "Rife with superstition and dread. Few wizards ever hear of it outside of fairy tales. Fewer still can be considered experts in the field." Muriel paused. Her gaze flickered to Severus, then back to Hermione. "You knew three such experts, and you are married to a fourth," she added dryly.

"Severus, did you know all that already?" Hermione turned to her husband. Frustration, fear and fury fought within her. "Why did you keep that from me?"

Severus shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I didn't keep anything from you. I'm a Necromancer and Potions Master, not a Healer. I know that Mr. Barrie was an eccentric mediwizard and a writer, but I had no idea about the details of his work. And while I do know the legends Muriel mentioned, I simply did not think of them. Hermione, I am virtually certain that this is the result of being immersed in the metamorphic waters of the Fifth Precinct. If the only damage my soul sustained there is that my shadow doesn't stay put, I can count myself lucky."

"But is that the only damage?" Hermione whispered wretchedly. "What if there are other – injuries?"

Severus leant over and drew her against him. "Voldemort existed for many years no less and no more insane than he already was, although his soul was thoroughly fractured. There is no reason to believe that this condition – if that's what it is – should affect me beyond the Splinching of my shadow."

Mugwort nodded. "Still, I want to see you here once a month for a check-up. I will also inform Headmistress McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. If you notice any changes at all, I expect you to report them immediately."

Hermione felt Severus stiffen. She drew back. "He'll do that. I promise."

"Severus?"

"Very well," he agreed grudgingly.

"And now …" Healer Mugwort flicked through a sheaf of parchments. "Your test results. I'm not completely happy with the blood tests. The two of you don't eat enough and your stress levels are too high." Muriel looked up. "And then there are the results of the tests concerning your magic."

Hermione froze. She didn't dare to look at the healer. No. She couldn't look at her. She couldn't move her head. Suddenly her heart was racing, and her chest felt tight. She tried to swallow, but something constricted her throat.

"The level of your magic is back to normal, Hermione. You have fully recovered from the Leeching Curse that infused the wards of your prison cell. As you are probably very much aware of. The levels of Severus' magic, however, are not at all normal."

A pause. "Hermione?"

Her heartbeat was thundering in her ears. She felt curiously lightheaded, and although she was clinging to the armrests of her chair with a vice-like grip, she could barely feel her icy fingers. She couldn't breathe.

Oh God, I can't breathe.

"Hermione –" Muriel went on, her voice very gentle. "Severus cannot continue to siphon off the excess of your magic forever. One soul cannot contain the magic of another soul for longer than a few months. Hermione?"

"Hermione?"

That was Severus. Why did his voice sound so far away? She tried to inhale, tried to reply. But she couldn't. She just kept shaking her head, gasping for breath, tears streaming down her face all of a sudden.

More questions. Movement. Severus holding her and helping her drink a thick liquid that she dimly recognised as Calming Draught.

Suddenly Muriel's face slid back into focus. Hermione drew a shuddering breath and slumped back against Severus.

"Better?"

Hermione nodded mutely. "I'm so sorry," she mumbled, her voice hoarse and thick with tears. "I'm such a coward."

oooOooo

A/N: J.M. Barrie was the author of "Peter Pan", a boy who didn't want to grow up and once in a while lost his shadow. The legend Mugwort refers to is the story "Peter Schlemihl's Remarkable Story" by Adelbert von Chamisso.