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Secretly Slytherin	By : Veresna Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 12269 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 22: At the Infirmary
"Just wait until my father hears about this!" Draco’s tone managed to somehow be both whining and superior at the same time.
"You needn’t fear that he will," responded Snape, dryly. "Madam Pomfrey usually sends a report to the parents of any patient she has treated. And she is required to immediately report all injuries to the Board of Governors," he added. "So, I am sure he will be informed of it by day’s end," he assured him. "One way or another."
"Look, I’m going to bleed over my new set of school robes!" the boy complained. "Potter better be prepared to buy me a new set!" he threatened. He tried, unfortunately, to add a snort unto the end of his last comment. Which was not the wisest thing to do when one’s nose is profusely bleeding.
Some of the spray hit Snape’s sleeve, and with difficulty he bit back a remark asking if Malfoy was prepared to buy him a new set of robes as well. In the end, he contented himself with noting, "We are almost to the hospital wing."
As he looked ahead, he was surprised to see that there were a large number of students milling about the office door. As they approached, he saw several of them snap their heads in his direction, and he could hear murmurs begin to run through the crowd.
"Look, Snape’s coming too!"
"She must really be hurt!"
"Maybe she needs a special potion?"
No one seemed to notice that Malfoy was holding a wet, bloody handkerchief to his nose until they were right at the door. And the few who did were content to make snide, rude comments rather than show any sign of concern. As Snape reached down to open the door, he saw the handle begin to move. And Professor Flitwick’s head popped through the open doorway.
"Albus?" he squeaked. Staring at Snape in confusion, he blinked and continued: "Oh, Severus, have they called you too?"
"What are you talking about Flitwick?" Snape asked, impatiently. "I am merely escorting Mr. Malfoy, and his broken nose, to the infirmary."
"Oh," replied Flitwick, distractedly. A moment later, he squeaked again and looked past Snape, crying out: "Albus, hurry up!"
Snape turned to look behind him. The Headmaster was indeed hurrying down the hallway on his way towards them.
He paused briefly at the door and looked around at the students, giving them a big smile of assurance before his eyes moved to specifically seek out certain individuals. Snape’s eyes also flitted over the crowd, trying to figure out what was special about them. And, then he realized that they were all Ravenclaws. He ran his eyes over them again. Almost all of the seventh-year class, in fact. Except that Helena wasn’t with them.
"Mr. Crowl!" Dumbledore called out.
"Yes, sir?" Desmond looked puzzled.
"Since you are a prefect, please be so good as to inform the students in Charms that Professor Flitwick was called away, and they may use their class time today as a free study period?"
Dumbledore paused and looked over at Snape and Malfoy, giving the latter a second look before clucking his tongue in sympathy. "Oh, dear, it looks as if we have no shortage of patients this morning, do we?"
He turned back to Des. "I think you should also go to the dungeon and give the same message to Professor Snape’s class," he added. "Severus, I do believe your help will also be invaluable," he added, in a whisper, to his Potions Master.
Snape nodded, still puzzled as to what all the fuss was about.
Dumbledore gestured at Desmond that he should be on his way. Then he returned his attention to the rest of the students as Snape looked on in bewilderment. "Now, the rest of you should get back to your classes. I assure you that, although she definitely needs some immediate medical attention, Miss Harrison will be quite fine."
At the last comment, Snape’s heart took a sickening jolt. Not that anyone looking at him would have known it, of course. His years working as a double agent had prepared him well for concealing his emotions and thoughts under almost any circumstance. And that was a fact for which he felt eternally grateful at the moment.
The crowd reluctantly dispersed, except that Lewis Thurston was still standing there, as if rooted to the ground. Snape frowned over at him. And was rewarded, to his surprise, with the fiercest look he had ever received from a student. He was already aware of the hatred the young man bore him, of course. But, was he imagining it, or was there more than just a bit of jealousy in his gaze at the moment? And not, he was certain, simply for that fact that he himself was going to be allowed to remain with Helena in the hospital wing. That was a sudden, and unwelcome, complication at the moment.
Thurston abruptly snapped his eyes back to Dumbledore. "I’d like to stay, Headmaster," he declared, firmly, "even if I can’t be with her."
Dumbledore smiled and shook his head sadly, "I’m sorry, Mr. Thurston, but there really isn’t anything you can do now. You have already done the best thing for her by getting her here so quickly," he assured him, soothingly.
The young man opened his mouth to protest again, and Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You have my permission to absent yourself from your classes. And, if you like, I will make sure that you are notified as soon as possible when Madam Pomfrey will allow her visitors." He patted his shoulder reassuringly.
Lewis nodded reluctantly and turned to go, and Dumbledore returned his attention to Professor Flitwick.
While he did so, Snape looked back to Thurston. And was certain, by the venomous glance he was rewarded with, that the young man had found a reason to hate him more than he ever had before. The door closed behind Thurston and Snape turned back to the others.
"What injuries does she have, Filius?" inquired Dumbledore.
"A concussion and a very badly broken leg, but Poppy’s more concerned about possible internal injuries and bleeding," whispered Flitwick in a distraught tone of voice.
"What about my nose?" whined Draco. Although, considering its current state and the placement of his hand upon it, it sounded more like "Whad aboud by dose?"
Snape clenched his teeth in anger and narrowly resisted the temptation to raise his wand and deprive Malfoy of the appendage altogether. "What happened?" he inquired.
"She fell down a steep flight of stone stairs, I’m afraid. Must have twisted her leg badly and thrown her full weight on it as she fell, causing the broken leg. And also ended up with a nasty blow to her left temple," he explained.
"When?"
"Just a few minutes ago. It was right by the Ravenclaw Common Room, and luckily Mr. Thurston kept his wits about him and sent for help right away."
"I see." He felt a slight relief and cessation of guilt that it hadn’t happened on her journey back to her room in the middle of the night. Before his own endless and usual jealousy of Thurston surged forth in a most irrational way.
"Now, then. Filius, I think that you should go and send an urgent owl to Miss Harrison’s parents, informing them of the accident and offering to help them travel here immediately," began Dumbledore.
The tiny Professor shook his head and blinked back tears. "They were just here last night for the party," he whispered sadly.
"Whad aboud by Farder?" screeched Malfoy.
Dumbledore looked back at the young blond man with a touch of interest. "Yes, indeed, Mr. Malfoy, Professor Flitwick can send an owl to him also. Tell me, what happened?" he inquired gently.
Snape snorted. "Mr. Malfoy’s nose seems to have hit Mr. Potter in the knuckles," he retorted, angrily. "So, I am sure you had better call Mr. Potter into your office and examine his hand to make sure that it is not too badly damaged. We wouldn’t want him to suffer an injury that would compromise his Quidditch playing, after all." As much as he disliked Draco’s current attitude, he was sure that he was due more sympathy than Dumbledore was likely to give him. And, he admitted to himself, being angry on behalf of Malfoy kept him from dwelling on how much he was concerned about Helena.
"Ah, I see," chuckled Dumbledore. "Well, now, I think I am quite capable of performing some first aid on Mr. Malfoy if you would like to see you can help Poppy?" he said to Snape. To Flitwick, he added, "Please also send an owl to Lucius and to the Board. About both incidents, I suppose. Without," he hesitated and looked at Snape in an almost apologetic way, "bringing Mr. Potter’s name into it until I have had more time to investigate this matter."
Flitwick nodded and turned to leave as the others headed on into the infirmary.
Madam Pomfrey had placed curtained barriers around one of the nearest beds, and they could hear soft murmuring sounds from within it. A moment later, Poppy’s head peered around a corner of the partition.
"Oh, good, Albus you’re here." Her eyes swept past the other two. "Oh, my. Broken nose, Mr. Malfoy?"
"I believe so," answered Snape.
"Yes, I can attend to Mr. Malfoy for a few minutes if you would like Severus to assist you?" interjected Dumbledore.
The Mediwitch nodded and pointed towards a bed in the opposite corner of the room. "Yes. Take him over there. The cupboard next to the bed has bandages, and I assume you know how to make a cold compress?"
"Yes, we will be fine," assured Dumbledore, as he gestured towards Malfoy to follow him.
"Jusd wade undil by Farder hears aboud dis," Malfoy muttered as he allowed himself to be swept away.
Snape slipped past the narrow opening in the curtain and looked down at Helena as she lay in her sickbed. Her left leg was raised up on a pillow and wrapped in layers of clean linen, spotted here and there with blood. His eyes moved on up her body. Her face was deathly pale, and her eyes were closed, although now and then her eyes appeared to move underneath her closed lids and she occasionally seemed to be whispering something under her breath. He approached the right side of the bed, where Pomfrey was standing and saw that she was gently pulling bloodied gauze away from the left side of her head.
The gash was ugly and long, but the Mediwitch had already stopped the bleeding, and she was now moving her wand gently over the wound and murmuring a spell that was beginning to close up the wound.
"I’ll go back later and redo it," she assured him, "to make sure there’s not a scar. But, I want to get it bandaged up for now so I can concentrate on the rest of her."
"How would you like me to help?" he asked.
At the sound of his voice, Helena’s eyes abruptly twitched open. Severus held his breath, not sure of what her response was going to be upon seeing him. Or how well he could explain it to Pomfrey.
"Hullo, dear, do you know where you are?" asked Pomfrey, kindly.
Helena’s eyes traveled slowly over the pair standing over her and then up at the curtains surrounding the bed.
"Hospital wing?" she whispered. And then her eyes closed again.
"Yes, you had a nasty tumble down the stairs," Pomfrey told her, patting her hand. "But you’ll be all right," she assured her.
There was no response, and Severus doubted that she had heard most of Pomfrey’s words.
Pomfrey sighed and looked over at Snape. "She’s been fading in and out," she assured him.
"From the medication?" he inquired.
"She managed to swallow a little, but most of it came right back up," she sighed. "I think it’s mainly confusion caused by the concussion," she said, removing a fresh bandage from her kit. "When she first got here, she kept rambling on and on about ‘Someone took my pictures’, and things like that."
"Curious," he murmured, indeed wondering what that meant.
Madam Pomfrey returned to the task of using her wand to close up the wound, and then Snape helped hold the dressing in place as she wrapped the gauze bandage around her head.
"What next?" he asked. He gestured down at her leg, anticipating that Pomfrey would turn her attentions there.
The Mediwitch sighed and shook her head. "It’s a ghastly break. I’m not even going to try to set it. I’ve immobilized it and stopped the bleeding for now. But, I’ll have to remove the bones and use ‘Skelegrow’, I’m afraid."
He nodded and looked back up at Helena’s face. He doubted that she was going to be up to drinking a beaker full of that obnoxious medicine any time soon. He supposed that in the meantime Pomfrey was going to try and relieve the pain and keep the limb as still as possible.
"I think she may have some broken ribs, but, thankfully, I’ve already finished a quick check and I don’t think she has any internal injuries or bleeding," she began.
"OW!!!" It was Malfoy’s voice, screaming and reverberating through the large room.
"Ow," murmured Helena softly, and nodded her head, as if in agreement.
"Perhaps I shall attend to Mr. Malfoy and get him out of the way," murmured Pomfrey, shooting glares at her other patient through the curtained partition.
Snape nodded. "I can perform some healing and anti-bruising spells while you attend to him," he offered.
Pomfrey nodded her head and went past him. "If she shows any sign of difficulty breathing, call me," she said.
Snape waited for the curtain to fall back and to hear her footsteps march towards the other side of the room before he dared moved closer to the girl. He began to move his wand along the side of her face, uttering the same spell that he had used on her wrist the night before to heal the numerous scrapes and bruises that she had suffered in her fall. The swelling, cuts and marks slowly faded away.
He could hear cries of protest from Malfoy, reassuring murmurs from Dumbledore and some low, stern noises from Pomfrey. He judged that he had ample time remaining alone with her.
He bent over her and placed his lips right next to her ear. "Helena?" he whispered, very quietly.
There was a low, brief sound from her partially closed lips. But, he felt, it was simply in recognition of her name. He did not think she knew that it was he who was speaking to her.
He leaned further over and kissed her gently on her forehead, and then let his eyes travel on down her body. He had seen her school robe tossed across the chair at the side, but other than that she was still fully dressed. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he glided over to peek through the partition to assure himself that Pomfrey would be occupied with Malfoy for a while longer.
He saw Malfoy sitting up in the bed, vigorously shaking his head, Dumbledore trying to restrain him and Pomfrey gesturing angrily at him with her wand. Yes, it looked like he would have at least a few more minutes alone with her.
He returned to her bedside, standing on the left side this time, and began to slowly draw the covers back. He reached down to pull her skirt up and then paused and made sure it sounded like the trio were still occupied with their own little drama. Then, he moved one hand to pull her panties down. Now, he was sure that Madam Pomfrey had seen a lot of unexpected things on the bodies of her naked patients. But, he’d just as soon not have her take a look at Helena’s thinned pubic hair and wonder why it was currently shaped into an ‘S’. He pointed his wand at her, and a moment later a smooth and sedate thatch of pubic hair grown back in its place. He quickly restored her clothes and the covers to their proper order, and by the time Pomfrey returned he was finishing up healing the bruises along her left arm.
"Good job," she noted, approvingly.
He heard the footsteps of Dumbledore and Malfoy retreating past them and going out through the door into the outer office.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," he heard Dumbledore say. "You may certainly be excused from your classes for the rest of the day."
"Thank you," Snape replied, in response to the Mediwitch’s compliment. He moved to the end of the bed and gently lifted up a corner of the cloth covering her leg. He grimaced at the sight.
"I told you," said Pomfrey, mild reproof in her tone.
"Yes," he replied, hastily replacing the covering. "I suppose," he began, and stopped. The Mediwitch had just performed a clothes-removing spell apparently, for now the chair upon which Helena’s robe was draped also held a pile of her clothing.
Pomfrey glanced back up at him. She was apparently ready to begin healing the broken ribs, and was trying, as best she could, to make sure that she kept Helena covered as she did so. That was rather ironic and unnecessary. Snape thought. For, after all, he was by now quite familiar with nearly every inch of her naked body.
"I assume you shall be needing an opiate-based analgesic for her?" he asked. "I could prepare a series with gradually diminishing doses if you like?" he offered. "And some more ‘Skelegrow’ if you require it."
The Mediwitch beamed. "Oh, Severus, that would be quite helpful. I do have enough for her, but I dare say I will end up using almost all that I have on hand."
He nodded.
She stood up and fished in her pockets for a ring of keys. "Here, take the ingredients you need out of my supply cabinet. I would think four days supply would be adequate, with a very low dose by the last day. She will heal quickly, once I am through ‘fixing her up’."
Snape took the keys. "Yes, she was fortunate, I suppose."
"Oh, but do you have time?" she asked, a trace of concern in her voice.
"Well, apparently my first class of the day has been canceled for me," he replied, throwing a hint of irritation into his tone. "And I actually have a free period before lunch, so I should have quite enough time to work on this."
He turned to go and then stopped, and forced casualness into his voice as he asked: "I suppose there’s always the chance of complications from a head injury?"
Pomfrey nodded and then shrugged. "Oh, her recent memories might be a little jumbled. But, even those usually return with time."
He nodded and went over to open the supply cabinet. He quickly selected the ingredients he needed and closed and secured the lock back in place. By the time he returned to the bedside, Madam Pomfrey was pulling the covers up to Helena’s neck again, apparently having already healed and wrapped the bruised ribs.
"I shall return this afternoon with the potions," he promised, handing the keys back to her. He forced himself to turn and leave the room without another glance back down at the girl in the bed. A moment later, he paused in the outer office and leaned against one of the tall chairs, taking in a few deep, reassuring breaths. She was going to be fine, he was sure of it. Her injuries, though not all minor, would be healed within the next few days.
And, after all, he smiled to himself as he opened the door of the waiting area and strode out into the hallway, it had worked out to his benefit also. He now had the whole morning free to prepare the potions. Some for Pomfrey, of course, but also the one he wanted to make for himself.
Actually, matters had been rather simplified in a way, hadn’t they? He had been a bit concerned that he didn’t have quite enough material from her own body to accomplish a completely effective elixir. He looked down and patted the pocket in his robe that now contained a small piece of the bloody bandage Pomfrey had removed from her. Well, that took care of one of his concerns.
As for the other issue, namely the fact that Helena was loathe to drink anything he gave her anyway-even before their last little argument-that seemed to be solved too, didn’t it? He smiled as he walked swiftly through the hallways on his way back down the dungeon. He was sure she’d be happy to drink his potion now. Since it would be mixed with her last dose of analgesic.
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Secretly Slytherin