Jehane Desrosiers

“Severus,” I said quietly, still stirring. He rolled off the bed instantly and stood blinking.

“Look.”

The potion, red as a Chinese wedding, swirled enticingly in the cauldron. He let out a long breath, closing his eyes.

“Give me the spoon and go check the sky,” he said. Dawn was supposed to occur at 5:21, but for purposes of potions brewing it required the observation of the wizard, as it had long before the mechanical measurement of time.

The clear Saturday night had held until Sunday morning. From the corridor window I saw the first glow of canteloupe-colored light through the screen of trees. A wisp of smoke told me that Hagrid was up early, heating water for tea. I hurried back to the dungeons, grinning like a fool.

“It’s dawn,” I said. “What next?” Severus withdrew the spoon and oak rod and laid them on the table. Expressionlessly, he measured a half-liter of the potion into a graduated beaker and held it up to the lantern, checking the color and opacity. It seemed to me like some sort of fruit nectar, velvety and rich.

Only then did he look at me wryly and raise the beaker in my direction with a slight bow.

“Your health, Madame,” he said, and drained it in one draught. It took me aback.

“That’s it? You drink it just like that?”

“Would you have preferred me to transfer it to a crystal goblet?”

“No. I suppose I expected a little more ceremony, that’s all.”

“The last twenty-four hours have been ceremony enough for me. I’d prefer to get on with what is likely to be an unpleasant interlude in my life. Now, if you will bring me that stack of labels and a quill, I will bottle the rest of the supply and then we may get to bed.”

There were thirteen half-liter bottles, one a day for two weeks. He filled and labeled them with the same attentive precision he had bestowed on the rest of the process, setting them in a rack to carry to the house. I took the rack while he wrapped Albia in the comforter and lifted her in his arms.

Pierce was asleep on the sitting room couch when we arrived, covered with a crocheted throw. His soft boy’s face looked very young.

“Let’s not tell him, okay?” I whispered. Severus nodded, heading for the stairs. I followed, shedding sweaters, hat and robes as I went. He stopped in the doorway of Albia’s room, gesturing with his chin.

The bed covers had been carefully stuffed with toy animals to resemble a sleeping four-year-old, and peeping out against the pillow, as if she had worn it to bed, was an orange knit cap. Severus raised his eyebrow at me.

“All right, ten points to Slytherin,” I whispered.

We had two hours of sleep before Albia woke us. I groaned at the touch of her hot and none-too-clean little hand.

“Wake up, Mummy. Wake up. It’s morning. I want ceweal and milk, pwease.”

“Go read a book, darling,” I rasped. Albia began gently but persistently to peel up my eyelid. “Stop,” I said. “You’ll scratch my cornea. Please read a book and let Mummy sleep a while more.”

“But I don’t want to wead. I want company,” she said sadly, still poking at my face. He hand smelled like fruit candy and sour milk.

Severus grunted and raised his head. Well, he should be sleeping off the red stuff, so, filled with self-pity, I sat up.

“Go back to sleep,” I said. “I’ll take over now and get a nap later. Come on, sweetie, let’s go to the kitchen.”

“I want to pway ponies with you.”

“Not until I have my coffee. Coffee first, ponies later.” I maneuvered her out of the room and closed the door behind me.

I was sitting on the floor with her an hour later, my second mug of coffee in hand, casting Animo so that the pink, green and yellow ponies frisked about their stable and spoke to each other. “Let’s get some hay,” said Yellow, in a squeaky voice. Albia held her favorite, Blue Raindancer.

“No,” she said. “Wet’s go to the swimming pond.”

There was a knock. I considered my tired coral chenille bathrobe, my unwashed face and morning nimbus of hair. It would be someone who had seen me at my worst in any case, so I opened the door.

A complete stranger stood smiling at me. Medium height, very handsome, with large, heavily lashed eyes and a neatly trimmed beard.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Caduceus,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m to assist Professor Snape with his brewing.”

I took his hand. This was Caduceus? I’d pictured a wizened chap at least a hundred years old. This fellow looked to be twenty-five and better suited to wielding a Bludger bat than a medical wand.

“Healer Caduceus,” I said. “You’ve been had.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We brewed last night. You’re sure Professor Snape said today?”

“Tomorrow at dawn, actually. This was to have been our planning meeting.” He had beautiful pale skin, a fine, aquiline nose and light brown hair worn slightly long. His mossy green eyes now crinkled at me in amusement. “Your husband likes to have his own way, I think.” He peered past me into the house.

“I’m sorry, please come in. Yes, that would describe Professor Snape.”

“I thought so. How is he feeling today?”

“I don’t know. We went to bed right after he took the first dose. He’s still asleep.” Without thinking I led him into the kitchen and put on the kettle.

“Ah, well, now that I’ve gained the castle, I can examine him at leisure.”

“I hope you do scold him thoroughly for misleading you. It won’t mean anything from me.”

“No, I won’t. I thought something like this might happen. At least he agreed to work with me, and I expect to gain a great deal from our collaboration. When I was called to the case, I did hope it was the Severus Snape.”

“Who is this?” said Albia, trotting into the room with a pony in each hand.

“I’m Asclepius,” said the healer kindly, leaning forward to look into her face. “A friend of your father’s. I’m here to help him with his potion.”

“We bwewed it alweady,” she replied. “Too late for you.”

“I am too late, aren’t I,” he said. “Too bad that I missed it. Will you fill me in?”

“I can’t. I fogot. It had coffee and moths, but I don’t know.” She pressed her finger into her chubby cheek, a parody of Deep Thought. “It had cwayons and juice and hippogwiff blood.”

“I see. And how did you help?”he asked. I stood with kettle in hand, enjoying their conversation.

She shook her head. “I just helped. Do you like my ponies? Will you pway ponies with me?”

“I will play ponies with you in a while. Right now I’m getting to know your mother.”

She looked at him appraisingly. “You come in five minutes. Okay?”

“Twenty-five minutes.”

“Okay. I will give you an extensin.” She returned to the cardboard box stable in the sitting room.

”She’s a bright little girl.”

“She drives us crazy.”

“Her name is --?”

“Albia.”

“Ah.”

“She was born after Headmaster’s death,” I explained.

“Those must have been hard shoes to fill.”

“I was terrified,” I said, surprising myself. Feeling slightly guilty, I went back to the tea preparations. “Milk or lemon for you, Healer Caduceus?”

“I’d rather you call me Clepe. And lemon, please.”

“’Clepe?’” came the icy drawl from behind me. Jealous! My heart swelled as I turned to see Severus in the doorway, black hair ruffled in all directions like the feathers of a dead crow. He had pulled on trousers and a shirt, leaving the tails out. He slitted his eyes at Caduceus suspiciously. “Are we to be on a first name basis now that you are in my kitchen?”

“Only if you wish,” Caduceus smiled.

Severus grunted and poured himself a cup of tea, giving Caduceus a sideways look.

“I’m Jehane,” I told him. “If you bring him through this you may call me anything you like. Give me that.” I took the teacup from Severus. “I’ll get you coffee.”

“He’ll bring himself through, I believe,” Caduceus told me, then turned to Severus. “Did you go with the arsenic or the sardonia?”

“The sardonia. The facial spasm seemed more correct.”

“Yes. Otherwise as we discussed?”

“In the main, yes.”

“’In the main?’”

Severus looked down his nose, challenging the younger wizard. “My wife, the renowned hippogriff trainer and riding instructor, had some suggestions, which I incorporated.”

“May I know them?”

“There was an addition of pearl with an oak rod.” Severus stared him down while accepting a mug of coffee.

Caduceus’ eyes traveled from Severus’ face to mine and back to Severus’.

“Ah,” he said softly, nodding. I felt sorry for him, so thoroughly and harshly relegated to the tertiary role in our drama, but he himself seemed unconcerned.

“Were you interested in Potions at school, Jehane?” he asked.

“Not really. Just what you need to know to get through.”

“Then you must be a wise observer of human nature,” he said. “Those are subtle additions.” I smiled at him. He was a damned charming fellow.

“Now that we’ve handed out compliments all round,” Severus growled. “Might we move on to something more substantial? Or else I’d like to have some breakfast.”

“I don’t think I heard any compliments from you, darling,” I said, slipping my arm around his waist. “But I can manage eggs and sausages for the four of us if you’ll wait.” Severus grunted assent and sat across the table from Caduceus.

“Professor Snape,” Caduceus said earnestly. “I’m thinking about your choices. If you added pearl, I wonder if the unicorn hair might have worked after all. Rather than the phoenix feather. If you kept that in your formulation?”

“I did. And I did consider the change you suggest. But the phoenix being regenerative in the sense of rebirth, rather than healing --”

“And you had mummy dust, as I recall --”

“Precisely. Destruction preceding rebirth is a more refined paradigm for an invasive carcinoma. A complete razing of the city, if you will.”

I froze, tongs in hand, at the phrase “invasive carcinoma.” I tried to breathe deeply and quietly. Severus had not used those exact words with me and somehow, tossed off so casually, they seemed newly dangerous.

“Yes, I see.” Caduceus nodded. “Still -- and I wouldn’t have seen it at first -- I wonder if that aspect of purity and single-mindedness -- the pearl -- might have been as powerful, with unicorn. I use phoenix very cautiously, for the reasons you’ve mentioned. Of course, the patient might consider himself equal to the most potent remedies -- ?”

“You have had other patients brew for themselves, have you not?” Severus was not going to be drawn into speaking about himself.

“No, actually, you’re the first. Would you mind if we went over your formula again? And I’d be grateful to hear about the brewing. You too, please, Jehane.” I nodded and turned the sausages as Severus gave an exacting account of the previous evening.

“You didn’t acquaint the batwing with the hippogriff and Luna Moth?” Caduceus asked.

“Not necessary,” said Severus. “Because it is a decoction, no parts remain in the fluid. No harm in acquainting them if you like, but it’s not needed; I’ve not done it since my student days.” He was caught up in his explanation and met Caduceus’ steady gaze with a look that might have been interpreted as friendly. It occurred to me that Clepe had found the way to charm his patient after all. I set out plates of food and poured orange juice for all.

“And the mummy dust? No problems with that?”

“Jehane had a memory reaction, but no, no problems with the addition.” Caduceus glanced at me, and I could see him storing his question for the future before returning to Severus.

Albia wandered in, still clutching her ponies. She was about to make a claim on Clepe’s attention, but spotted the sausages first and climbed into her chair. Scanning the adults, she judged us likely to ignore her manners and attacked them with her fingers.

Clepe turned again to Severus. “When I’ve brewed with mummy dust myself, I’ve found the post-addition period of tension quite uncomfortable. Really, I felt I might jump out of my skin. How was that for you?”

Severus caught my eye. “More tolerable with a companion.” Really, it was quite pleasant to be wooed like this, so aggressively and indirectly.

“I expect.”

They reviewed the timing, the stirring, the emotional climate and the reaction of the potion for each ingredient. Clepe asked the kind of intelligent questions that gladden a professor’s heart. I wondered at him. I expected someone at the top of his field to seem prouder, more self-promoting. Clepe was not merely taking advantage of Severus’ knowledge, but respectfully building a relationship with him as well.

Before long, Severus was dressed and taking Clepe to the potions lab for a tour. He even allowed him a brief physical examination in the kitchen, although I didn’t witness this, as I was catching Albia before she could get her greasy hands on the couch. I came in as Clepe set down his wand. Severus was straightening his collar.

“Is it -- ?” I asked. “I know it’s too early to expect a change -- But is there anything -- ?”

“No change, but that’s good,” he said. “In many patients it would have advanced since I’d seen him. He has cells in the lymph nodes of his neck and underarms. I’d like to do an eradication spell, but --”

“For some ridiculous reason I object to putting my power in harm’s way,” Severus interjected coldly.

“The spell does have a fairly high chance of reducing magical power temporarily or even permanently, I’m afraid.”

“But so does the potion,” I said.

“I brewed the potion personally,” my husband said. “If I’m to be reduced to a shell of my former self, I’ll do it by my own hand.” That about summed Severus up, and I couldn’t argue that it wasn’t right for him. “Caduceus might return to dine with us this evening, if you’ve no objections.”

“That would be fine,” I said. “But I thought we’d go to the Great Hall tonight. They haven’t seen you in several days, and -- oh, morale or something. The students miss you.”

“I doubt that.”

I turned to Clepe. “They do. It’s one of Professor Snape’s little conceits that he is universally feared and abhorred. We try not to spoil his illusions by being too friendly.”

“Oh, might we dine at school?” Clepe’s face lit up. “I’d like that immensely. I might even sit at the Ravenclaw table -- if that’s permitted?”

“Not,” said Severus. “Or we’ll have students getting notions about equality between the generations. I could, however, arrange for you to visit the Ravenclaw common room if you’d like, for a tête-à-tête with the members of your old House.”

“Yes, I’d enjoy that.”

“Albia,” Severus called peremptorily. “Let us show our visitor the lab.” As always, she brought her full cooperation to bear when given the opportunity to go with Daddy. She even found her shoes, although I noted silently that she was still in pajamas.

Severus stopped in the doorway and looked at me for a long moment, black eyes glittering.

“Get some sleep,” he said.

I woke briefly on the couch in the late morning to a duet of voices in the kitchen, Severus’ deep bass viol saying, “Only the completely intact moth --” and Albia’s indistinct answer, a piping piccolo. Then I drifted off again.

At dinner in the Great Hall that night, I noticed a number of surreptitious looks at Severus. Naturally, since his illness and treatment were private matters, every member of the staff and most of the students were following them with anxiety. Libby Wateringcan, a young second year, caught his hand on the way out of the Hall. When confronted with the stern headmasterly visage, however, she could only quaver, “Have a nice day.” Severus nodded.

Clepe planned to spend a few hours with the Ravenclaws, then meet us back at the house. While Severus gave Albia her bath, I took the opportunity to sit on the front steps in the late twilight. It was a bit cold, in March, for steps-sitting, but I hadn’t been outside much in several days and I was beginning to feel it. I wore my winter cloak. A chill wind pulled my hair across my eyes and I viewed the indigo sky through strands of orange and, I noted with dismay, some white.

“Hi ho,” Clepe said softly, coming up the path and sitting beside me.

“Ravenclaw as you remember?” I asked.

“Much the same. They seem so young.”

“Everyone says that when they come back. You have the perspective of an adult now.”

“Willingly or not,” he said wistfully. “I suppose I do.”

“Adulthood has not been good to you?” I asked. He seemed subdued, and I wondered if this were a more authentic Clepe or another form of charm.

“Oh, yes, it has. I’ve been very lucky in my profession. I have work that I love, although it can be -- sad. I’m a lucky man.”

“But?” A sort of soft spell had fallen on us, brought on by the intimate tenor of his voice and the darkening sky.

“That’s all. I live alone. I’d give a lot to have -- this.” He gestured at the house.

“Oh, but surely you will. I mean, you’re young. You haven’t met the right person yet, but I’m sure you will.”

How did I know? But I said it anyway.

“I’m forty-nine.” I turned to look at him, trying to hide my shock. The same age as Severus. “I know. The person who put the Conservo curse on me thought she was giving me a gift. She was a crazy, lovesick witch, but a powerful one. My first real girlfriend. I had some other relationships after that, but -- nothing lasted more than a year or two, and then even that petered out.” Now I understood the hint of sadness I had felt in him at our first meeting that morning. So many people might pass through your life in several decades of being twenty-two. And what woman could stay with a man who would always be as beautiful and fresh as Clepe?

Severus suddenly spoke from behind. “What countercurses have you tried?” We started; how long had he stood in the door?

Clepe sighed. “Everything I or anyone has thought of. She died soon after, in St. Mungo’s insanity ward. She had a very original mind; the curse was cast with some key I’ve never found. I was just twenty-two; I didn’t grasp the implications at the time.”

Now I understood better his charm and his soothing manner; they were compensation for the authority and gravitas that would not sit convincingly on his boy’s face. It spoke of a commitment to his healing work and of a flexible intelligence that made me like him even more.

“It was so long ago,” Clepe said. How could I not have seen that an experienced and saddened man looked out of that unlined visage? “I’ve given up on it now.”

Severus came down the steps and faced him. “If the woman is dead, it’s unbreakable,” he said. “Hold still.” Severus leaned forward abruptly and caught a few hairs from the healer’s head, pulling them out sharply. Without comment he wrapped them in a square of paper and pocketed it. “Will you be returning to poke and prod at me? I expect I’ll be nearly dead in a week, if it would please you to see my animated corpse.”

My! Severus seemed to be making a gesture of friendship. Surely Clepe would recognize it.

“Ten days, actually, before you approach the abyss. But I’ll return in seven, to interview you while you can still speak.”

“Sunday, then.” Severus turned and went back up the steps into the house. Thus was Healer Caduceus dismissed, but not by me.

“How sick will he be?” I asked.

“What he’s put together is very strong. I would have compunctions about administering that potion to anyone. He is powerful, though, and I think he’s calibrated it well. He’ll be very, very ill and it will continue for several weeks after the treatment period.”

“What can I do?”

“He’ll need to eat and rest. He’s going to be sick to his stomach. Try to keep him free of worry and keep his strength up.” He saw me chewing my lip and rested his hand lightly on my arm. “The pearl and the oak rod were fine additions. They’ll activate positive healing aspects of his character. We all need to know our worth and feel our strength to be healthy.”

“Thanks, Clepe. Now that we’ve met I feel so glad you’re on the case.”

“Me too.”

“And -- I’m sorry for your trouble.”

“Thank you.” He looked away and changed the subject. “I’m going to walk into Hogsmeade before I Floo back to the city. I’ll see you in a week, then.” So we said goodnight.

Severus had a special trick for getting Albia to sleep and he was practicing it when I went upstairs, sitting by the side of her little bed and rubbing his thumb between her eyebrows. Her eyes were closed in bliss and I could tell she was about to drop off. I gave him a wave from the bedroom door and tiptoed away.

I was putting on my flannel pajamas when Severus came into the bedroom. Without prelude, he snuggled up behind me and slid his hands under them to cup my breasts.

“He reminds you of your ex-husband, does he not?” Severus purred, gently kneading the soft flesh in his hands.

“Oh. Yes, I suppose he does. I thought he seemed familiar. I don’t think it’s called ‘ex’ if the person dies, though. Oh!” He was doing a thing that drove me crazy, rubbing my nipples with the flat of his palms. “He’s a very nice -- uh --”

“Take off this execrable garment.” He left my breasts for a moment to tug at the elastic of my pants. “I intend to drive ex-husbands and handsome healers completely out of your mind tonight.” He turned me around and bent to suckle.

“It might be our last, for a while,” he said practically.

Notes

I stole this simile -- “his hair sticking up in all directions like the feathers on a dead crow” -- from Juxian Tang’s Lukewarm series. You can find this wonderful and touching story at http://juxian.slashcity.net/lukewarm.html (warning: slash!).

Thank you to Delphi for her Latin translations throughout. Her first-rate work is at her site: http://delphi.popullus.net/