The days just dragged on. He was not allowed out of bed except for the three hours in the morning where he visited St Mungo's for his daily dose of "telling the juvenile idiot to shut up". Upon returning, his lunch would be waiting for him and Poppy would supervise until he had eaten it. On the third day of this, Severus had asked why he could not order his own lunch as he had done for the last ten years.

"If I had known the condition you had got yourself into Severus Snape this would have happened a lot earlier!" was the response. "You cannot be trusted to look after yourself, so you cannot be trusted to eat the right foods! This is nutritious Severus, you need it!"

Often there would also be a lecture on how much it would aid his recovery if he actually opened up and accepted the help that was being offered. Severus scoffed at this every time, but decided not to risk the mediwitch's wrath any further by voicing his thoughts.

If he was lucky, he would be given his potions after lunch and then left alone. If he was unlucky, then Poppy would decide it was time to change one of his dressings, or it was time for another blood test or a plethora of other things that would mean she would take up his time. At night, he was expected to sleep eight to ten hours. If he didn't, and the damn witch always knew if he hadn't, he would be given a sleeping draught the following day and expected to nap to make it up.

After two weeks of this Snape was annoyed. He'd tried discharging himself, but he was told that he hadn't passed the fit to work evaluation and the monitoring band would remain active, but to go right ahead. So now he was bored. Really bored. It seemed that everything was just a chore. Even winding up the bloody mediwitch had lost its appeal. What was he to do? What could he do?

With nothing else to occupy his time, Severus worried over this problem constantly in his head but with no viable solution forthcoming. It became a bit of an obsession and as the days went by, he felt that he might just be about to implode with the stress of it all.

The following morning Poppy was going about her morning routine, just about to visit her least co-operative patient, when the man in question burst through the door to her private quarters. His pyjamas were covered with blood and the stuff was dripping off his chin onto the floor. His hands were cupped tight to his face and his eyes were alight with alarm.

"It won't stop" she managed to understand him say.

The puddle of drips on her living room carpet was growing rapidly. Alarmed, Poppy pried Snape's hands away from his face and saw his nose gushing blood. A strong clotting charm slowed the rate of blood loss to a manageable level.

"Sit Severus" Poppy commanded. "Keep your head up and breathe through your mouth. Now pinch the top of your nose with two fingers. Stay like that. Don't move."

Twenty minutes passed but no change seemed forthcoming.

"It should be stopping by now. Let's get you changed and back to bed."

Snape stood to leave but was overcome by a wave of dizziness. The first thing his groping hand found was Poppy's arm.

"What's the matter? Are you ok?"

Snape's response was to stare at her in panic and faint.

When he came around a few minutes later, he was in his bed and Poppy was standing over him, visibly relieved.

"Severus! How are you feeling? How long was it bleeding before you came to get me?" Poppy questioned.

"Only about five minutes."

"Only five?! You could have shouted for me Severus! Given the amount of residue here I'm not surprised you fainted. Blood loss is a dangerous thing. I've cancelled your trips to St Mungo's for now, it's obvious the travel isn't doing you any good. He's going to try and work out a time he can come here."

Snape levelled her a death glare. The instant that happened, he was out of here, consequences be damned.

"Don't be too happy about it" Poppy quipped.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was just short of a week later, when Poppy's ears caught the sharp sound of retching coming from Snape's room. She'd allowed him to get up and move about on his crutches just the day before, hoping that that might improve his mood some after spending three days in traction to reset his re-broken leg.

"Severus?" she called sharply.

She saw him sitting in a chair, a potions journal on his lap and using a bucket he'd obviously conjured in a hurry.

Poppy summoned and handed him an anti-nausea potion which he downed in one, relaxing somewhat as the cool liquid made its way down his throat.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I was just sitting here reading when all of a sudden I had the extremely strong urge to vomit."

"The bucket tells me that much Severus" Poppy chuckled.

The bucket was a bright yellow plastic affair, such as young children take to the seaside to make sandcastles in. It did not fit with the usual dour persona of the irascible Potions Master.

Snape glanced at it. "One of the few things my mother ever bought me. My father confiscated and broke it when he found out of course" he muttered.

Poppy stared. That was more personal information than he had volunteered in weeks. Her wand had been running over him as they had been talking and now she studied the results.

"Your diagnostic seems clear. Are you alright sitting or would you prefer to go back to bed?"

"I feel much better now. I'll stay sitting."

"Ok, if you begin to feel sick again or need anything else, just shout me."

"Of course Poppy."

Poppy walked back to her office, frowning. She was worried. These extra symptoms seemed to come from nowhere and then go as quickly as they came, leaving no lingering trace. There was no reason for why such a nosebleed should have occurred the other day, nothing different to any other day, and yet she'd had to give him five units of blood replenisher after he'd passed out. Then this vomiting, just totally out of the blue and gone again. There was no sensible connection. She supposed she would just have to be watch and wait.

So Poppy waited, monitoring her patient as extensively as she could. But nothing happened for a further two weeks; the plaster cast was removed from his leg and to Snape's great displeasure the sessions at St Mungo's were started again. They were no better than before and Snape always returned in a worse mood than when he left. However, loathed though he was to admit it, Snape did actually feel a lot better now than before this whole thing had started. He felt no pain and he was actually less grumpy now that he was getting enough sleep. But he was bored. And he missed his brewing. Brewing was his stress relief, he'd rarely gone this long without being stood over a cauldron. Maybe Poppy might let him brew in an unused classroom nearby if he asked? There was only a week left of the summer holidays after all.

An involuntary shiver came over him and brought him out of his musings. As he sat up, Snape realised he was cold. Perhaps a shower would warm him up. Making the most of having the use of both legs again Snape walked quickly over to the adjoining bathroom. He had barely got in the door when he heard the damned mediwitch's voice.

"What are you doing Severus?"

"Having a shower. I believe I do not require your permission for that any more."

"Your band has been blaring at me for the last ten minutes that your temperature is elevated. A hot shower would be a bad thing right now I daresay."

"Elevated? But I'm cold!" He let out another shiver as if to emphasise his point.

"A common symptom of fever. A quick spell will put this issue to rest Severus. If it comes back clear then you may have your shower. Just ten seconds to cast it."

Snape knew he had no way around this.

"Very well," he grumbled.

One minute later, Snape was tucked up in bed reluctantly drinking a fever reducer. Sometimes, he thought, you just couldn't catch a break.