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UnBroken	By : OddDoll Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 6172 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Part II
Unbroken
By Odd Doll
Chapter 14
It was no accident that the gateway to San Francisco's wizarding district could be found in Chinatown. The Chinese were always more accepting of that which was mystical, magical, or unseen, and although they too found the need to create their own version of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, Chinese wizards and witches mingled with their Muggle brethren much more readily than their Western counterparts.
So it was that Phoebe Apparated with Severus from her home in Pacific Grove to the street in front of a twisted wooden building adorned with red lacquer and gold paint. A heavy wooden sign above the door said with elegant simplicity 'Solace' in both English and Chinese. It was eight a.m. and the street was quiet. Now the last challenge was before them.
"Come on, Severus," she whispered to him as he leaned heavily on her shoulder. "It's just a short walk inside, and I'll get you into a wheelchair. Then you can rest for as long as you need." He dropped with relief into the first chair they found.
Despite its colorful exterior, Solace was as modern as any other fine wizarding hospital, and Severus soon was settled into a bed in a white, antiseptic examining room. An Asian-American healer entered moments after them, a clipboard in hand. Behind him came a male nurse with a cart.
"Mr. Shepherd, I'm Dr. Brian Quon. I'll be treating you during your stay here. This is your nurse, Jeremy Greenthumb. Are you Mrs. Shepherd?" the healer asked as he removed his wand from his white coat.
"Yes." They had agreed before arriving at the hospital that feigning marriage would engender the fewest questions. They had chosen aliases that sound similar to their real names, in case they slipped up. She was Bibi, and he was Silvius. When she suggested the name, Severus assumed she chose it in honor of Sylvester. Apparently, he had never read Shakespeare and did not recognize the lovelorn shepherd who courted the disdainful Phebe.
"Can you tell me what happened to you, Mr. Shepherd? Jerry, let's get him undressed." Together they used their wands to remove his clothing in the easiest, least painful way possible: they cut the dirty, bloodstained garments off of him and discarded the pieces in a heap on the floor.
Phoebe stood at Severus's right hand, watching them work in tense silence. Her hand hovered over the butt of her wand. Severus looked at Phoebe with a silent plea that she took as a request for her to speak for him while she watched.
"First of all, he's been kept prisoner for about fourteen months and subjected to physical abuse. He received his first treatment in a Muggle hospital, but he wanted to leave before he was recovered."
The healer looked up from the pant leg he had been about to remove. "Why ever would he do that?" he said with sarcasm.
Severus grunted softly, but Phoebe ignored the comment. She mentioned their failure to find a healer and went on to describe his symptoms and the treatments she had given him. When she mentioned the surgery, the healer went to Severus's torso and cut away his shirt.
"What's that?" Dr. Quon said, leaning forward to peer at the bandage they had placed on Severus' left arm to hide the Dark Mark.
Phoebe had her wand ready to lean forward and slip it between the bandage and Dr. Quon's hand.
"Don't touch that." To all appearances, she remained cool, but her heart hammered in her chest.
"Hey!" Jeremy Greenthumb shouted and started in her direction. He was tall, but slight, and Phoebe was armed.
"Don't get excited," she said sarcastically, as if they had overreacted to the sudden appearance of her wand. "He has a rather embarrassing tattoo." They had rehearsed this story, but it still sounded lame. "Graphic, if you know what I mean. And some other woman's name. I don't ever want to see it again." She gave Severus a scornful look. "Or her." That last bit hadn't been in the script, and it earned her the sight of Severus's lips drawn into a prim line that she suspected restrained a smile.
The two men exchanged an uneasy glance, half skeptical, half amused. "Whatever you say," Dr. Quon said, but they resumed their work in silence, regarding Severus with a cooler attitude. Phoebe relaxed a little. She glanced down at Severus and he nodded at her.
"When did you do this?" Dr. Quon asked, touching the skin alongside the incision with his forefinger.
"Yesterday afternoon."
"Tell me exactly what you did." While she spoke he leaned over the wound and said a diagnostic spell similar to the ones Phoebe had used.
"I didn't want to do the surgery. But I was afraid he would suffer heart failure before we could get here, and he absolutely refused to go back to the Muggle hospital."
The healer straightened and looked at Severus's face. "I'm not saying you would have died, but given your emaciated state, and the sheer number of your other injuries, I'd say it is very likely that your wife here saved your life."
"I know." He kept his eyes on the healer, avoiding Phoebe's.
Only his underwear remained, and the nurse hesitated before removing them. "Would you like your wife to remain during the examination?"
"Yes."
"Why don't you have a seat." The nurse indicated an armchair in the corner. "This will take some time." He went to the cart and set out a number of colored papers. Taking up a quill, he said, "I'm ready."
Dr. Quon held his wand level over Severus' chest and began. "Temperature, one hundred one point one. Pulse, ninety-eight. Blood pressure..."
Severus closed his eyes and lay still, while Phoebe sat back in the chair and listened to the drone of medical jargon. She should call the office. During the flight she had shut off her phone, telling herself she needed to save the batteries because her charger was in her suitcase back in Plymouth. In truth, she had been physically and mentally exhausted, and more than a bit overwhelmed by the pressures of danger and intrigue. Even with hours of sleep on the plane, her limp limbs felt glued to the chair. And Severus had wanted her to remain.
The sheer number of injuries the healer found was daunting. Many were healed and simply recorded as part of his medical history. Others had not been properly treated and would require further care. The healer commented on at least four broken bones that would have to be reset.
When he came to the broken ribs, he looked up at Phoebe. "The incision will require no further treatment. You did an excellent job."
"Thank you," she murmured.
"It's part of the healer's mystique," he said with a wry grin, his normal examination routine having soothed him into a more relaxed attitude toward her. "Many surgeries are not that difficult. Cut, fix, seal. The real challenge is deciding what is wrong and what course of action needs to be taken."
"I discovered that. I also had a little trouble at one point figuring out exactly what I was looking at inside there."
"Yes. That's where practical experience comes in handy." He turned his attention back to Severus and did not speak to her again until the exam was complete.
"Well, Mr. Shepherd," he said as he tucked away his wand, "you must be one tough son-of-a-gun. You've got a lot of older injuries that need to be reworked, in addition to the fresh ones. I can't really start working on you, though, until the infection has abated, but I do intend to work on your face today. The sooner we get your jaw and teeth back in order, the sooner you can get some real food into you. And that eye socket needs to be seen to. It really is only a small misalignment, but in that part of the body even a small fracture can cause a huge amount of pain. Judging by the healing, you've had it about four months."
"Yes."
"Well, you won't have it for a day longer. We have a few things to prepare before getting to work. We'll do it in here and move you to your own room afterward. You are welcome to remain, Mrs. Shepherd. We won't be opening him up, so a sterile environment is not necessary."
"Thank you. I intend to remain here until he no longer needs me."
*****
Four hours later, Severus gagged over his second gulp of Skele-gro in his private room. Phoebe rested her arms on the wheeled tray-table, her chin cradled in her hands. The curtains were drawn, and the warm glow of a lantern gave the room a snug, cozy atmosphere. Both were mellow and exhausted, feeling relatively secure at last.
"Drink up, Shriner. The doc said one-half bottle every four hours."
He grimaced. "What did you call me?"
"Shriner. It's a Muggle men's organization. A fraternity. They do good works, hospitals for children."
He scowled, but it could have been from the latest gulp of Skele-gro. "I don't see how..."
"It's a saying. Fraternities like that are known for their, um, uninhibited social events. Didn't the Death Eaters occasionally meet for purely social reasons?" As soon as she said it she regretted it. Tactful, Baher.
His face froze into the most fearsome look of cold anger that she had ever seen. Even with the renewed swelling around the jaw and eyes from the healer's work earlier in the day, his facial expression was daunting. Phoebe sat up straight, lifting her head from the tray-table in a reflexive movement of self-preservation.
"My past is not open for discussion." His voice held a menacing chill, an almost deceptively silky coolness. He must have been one hell of a scary teacher. She saw a hint as to how his students could have hated him and asked herself once again who was this man she had tied to her future. His reaction stunned her too much for her to frame a proper response, but she knew she would not let him get away with it a second time.
He recognized his blunder by the length of her silence. "I'm not used to needing people." The cold look fled, replaced by the expressionless mask she had seen for the last three days.
It was her excuse to speak. "And I was tactless. I'm sorry." He either could not, or would not, look at her. "Severus, you will have to talk to me, sooner or later. In case you forgot, I'm in a bit of trouble myself. I believe you have the experience or expertise, or what have you, to get me out of this in one piece. That is what I need from you."
He lay still, but his eyes moved, as if seeking answers in the sundry items that lay about the room. Phoebe sighed and settled back on the tray-table, her chin on her forearms. She watched him this way until at last he said, "Phoebe, I have not properly thanked you for everything you've done." He still could not meet her eyes. She wondered how difficult this must be for him. Humble pie was never a tasty dish.
"And I'll never be able to repay you, no matter what I do." At last his face turned toward hers. "You have earned the right to walk away from me at any time you choose, but as long as you remain, I will do what I can to help you." For an alarming instant Phoebe caught a glimpse of how important she had become to him in such a short time. He had no reason to care whether he lived or died until Phoebe had come along and inadvertently handed it to him. He would keep her alive and, incidentally, keep his own flame lit. Once again she saw the image of him clinging to her like a drowning man but this time chose to embrace it.
Schooling her voice to express as much dignity as possible, she said, "Then, I guess we'll just have to look after each other."
He gave her a solemn nod. They looked at each other, and she sensed something pass between them, a new awareness of each other as a person.
Then she put on an impudent grin and said, "Drink up, Shriner."
*****
Narcissa Malfoy was in trouble. For the Dark Lord's convenience, she had been summoned to Hogwarts; it was where he happened to be at the moment he chose to speak to her. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her and her head lowered in obeisance. Her Black-Malfoy pride prevented her from groveling, but she could not permit herself to display her usual haughty bearing. Behind her, to either side, stood two Death Eaters. They had already taken her new wand, leaving her feeling naked and vulnerable for the second time in two days. One was the Transfigurations professor who had taken Flitwick's place. The other she didn't recognize. The corps had grown immeasurably over the last eighteen months. Witches and wizards of no particular political convictions flocked to Lord Voldemort after the fall of Hogwarts, seeking to ally themselves with what they perceived to be the winning side.
Before her the Dark Lord sat coiled behind what once was Minerva MacGonagoll's desk -- even after eighteen months no one had been able to break the wards on Dumbledore's old office -- and hissed in rage.
"You went off like a randy teenager having his first fuck!" he screamed with uncharacteristic vulgarity. "We are not yet strong enough to protect you from the Ministry. Do you know how many bribes it will take to get you out of this? Do we have to kill an Ello agent on your behalf and have the whole Ministry come down on our heads? What's more, you've spoiled your own reputation, leaving me without a valuable Ministry contact."
She could feel his reptilian gaze upon her. It made her flesh creep. She shivered.
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
She did not look up. Even if she were permitted to look her master in the face, she preferred not to see his hideous red eyes. "The American witch knows more than she was saying. I am sure of it." Now for the humility. She produced the lie she had prepared. "My thirst for revenge against my husband's killer overcame me. I beg for your forgiveness."
Lord Voldemort did not like to waste time or words. "Since you can no longer travel openly in England, your lust for revenge will be put to good use abroad. You will follow the witch and use whatever means you wish to question her. Take your son with you. He needs some field experience. The two of you may leave as soon as you've recovered from your punishment."
She blanched as he waved a hand in dismissal. Each Death Eater took one of her elbows and led her from the room.
- 13
- 14
- 15
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UnBroken