She was cleaning. Not that the clinic was dirty, but she felt like everything needed to be in its place. Organized. Ginny straightened the exam room and moved into the front lobby. She moved the children's toys back to the children's area. She didn't want her patient to be tripping over anything. She rolled her eyes when she realized she hadn't been this flustered over a patient since Draco. And she'd seen him naked.

Ginny grimaced when the thought crossed her mind. Ugh. Now she was thinking Snape naked, that just wasn't going to do. She made her way into the receptionist's area, mentally reminding herself to get that ad in the Prophet for a receptionist as soon as possible. She started a folder for Snape, filling out what information she knew. Which, not surprisingly, wasn't much. His name. His occupation. That was really it.

Greg Goyle. Potions overdose. Draco Malfoy. Attempted murder. Severus Snape? I have no idea.

The fact that she wasn't sure what her former potion's professor was coming in for was unsettling. It could be anything. The anything part of that had her terrified. Maybe it was something simple. Something normal. She shuddered again, thinking of having to give him a full body exam. He would be here soon. She looked up at the clock before going back to the exam room, making sure everything was tidy.

As he entered the relentlessly cheery waiting area, Severus felt himself physically recoil. The change from the outer facade was so drastic that he felt almost as if he'd been portkeyed to somewhere entirely different from where he was supposed to be. Taking in the beige seating in some cheap imitation of leather, and the gaudy display of tropical fish, he found himself wondering if he'd need attention for burned corneas before the visit was over.

Ginny heard someone come through the front door and almost dropped the glass jar of gauze she'd been holding. She fumbled with it before setting it back on the counter, making her way towards the front. She paused in the doorway, flicking her wand at the table and casting a quick antiseptic charm on the table. She entered the lobby, giving him the best smile she could muster. "Professor Snape. Welcome." She marvelled at how he hadn't changed in the 4 years since school. He looked exactly the same. Sneer and all.

"Healer Weasley," he said with a nod. She still looked like a child, with her freckled face and sunny expression. He was out of alternative options, however, unless he wanted to waste a day sitting in St. Mungo's or traveling to the continent. "I trust you do not expect to conduct our appointment out here."

At least he can't give me detention. "Yes. I mean, no. Right through here." She motioned with her arm towards the hallway. "It's the second room on the right."

Snape halted in the indicated doorway. He'd only ever seen a table like that in pictures. "Am I expected to sit on that muggle contraption? Or perhaps one of those flimsy chairs transfigures into something suitable?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I assure you, the table is fine. It will not buckle, if that's what you're afraid of."

"Tell me, Miss Weasley, is it your deliberate intention to make your traditionally-minded patients uncomfortable, or is it merely a lack of thought?" Severus looked down the length of his nose at her, just as if the intervening years had never occurred and she was still a recalcitrant pupil not living up to her own intellect. "From what I recall of your own mother's outlook, and decorative preferences, I doubt she would be any more enthused than I about the possibility of abandoning tradition, not to mention dignity, for the sake of muggle fashions."

Ginny bit her tongue. She had almost forgotten what he was like. She was so used to not letting others get the better of her, she'd almost retorted. However, St. Mungo's wouldn't heal him. She didn't know of any other competent healers in the area, so she really was his last resort. Some might see that as a reason to demand respect, but he was Snape. Snape didn't care that she was his last resort.

She flicked her wand past him and transfigured the table into a simple cot, with clean white sheets. "Is this suitable enough for you?"

With a disdainful sniff, he gathered his robes and sat gingerly on the edge of the cot. "I suppose it will be adequate."

"Good." She walked into the room, casting a cleaning charm on her hands before turning to look at him. She paused, trying to tell by sight why he'd needed to come in. "What seems to be ailing you?"

Snape looked uncomfortable and pulled a vial from his robes. "I was recently accidentally exposed to the fumes of an experimental potion, and I wanted to confirm there would be no harmful effects in the long term."

Ginny grabbed the potion from his hand and looked at it. "Why type of potion was it? What effects have you already experienced?"

Feeling like he'd rather go a few rounds with either Death Eaters or the Order, Severus choked out, "It... had an effect on my personality. I was steeping a variant of a relatively obscure pain potion - I can provide a list of ingredients - and the fumes leeched out into my living quarters."

She nodded, turning and grabbing a vial from the cabinet. "If it's a pain potion there's a slight chance there could be side effect of lasting placidity. Have you been feeling more charitable as of late?" She was glad her back was to him because she couldn't help the smile on her lips as she grabbed another vial from the cabinet and an empty beaker.

"Yes." Snape's mouth was pursed as the word practically forced itself past his lips. "I was... Making the best of things. Finding the bright side. It was quite... disturbing."

"Yes. I could see how that would be disturbing." She poured a bit of the potion into the empty beaker, adding two more substances before shaking it around. The mixture turned green. "The good news is the potion and it's fumes weren't poisonous, so you don't have to worry about that. It seems as if the effects have passed." She turned, leaning against the counter. "Have you experienced any dizziness, blurred vision or nausea?"

"I'm aware of the lack of poisonous effects, and that the effects are no longer as obvious," he said acidly. "What I would like from you, Healer Weasley, is a scan for any signs that the potion has seeped into my lungs or bones. As for your questions: dizziness, no, blurred vision, no, nausea, only when I think of how I acted."

"I can do a scan to see if there are traces of the potion in your lungs and bones. How long would you say you were exposed to the fumes?" She pulled her wand out of the pockets of her robes and waved it in front of him, casting the charm, although a bit begrudgingly. He acts as if I wasn't going to do an examination. Preliminary questions are procedure. She dropped her hands, studying the insignias.

Shifting his arms to give her freer access to his torso, he said, "The potion steeped for seventy eight days. It was locked away, but not held in stasis. I spend approximately twelve hours in the upper building for most of the seventy eight days, but only slept in the adjoining bedroom for the last night."

She nodded, shaking her head slightly. "It's in your hair and your lungs, but being around a potion for that long it's not surprising. It doesn't seem as if it's doing anything detrimental." She frowned, her wand flicking out again, the spell crossing her lips in a whisper. "Have you had any chest pains recently? Any shortness of breath?"

"Nothing new." Severus frowned as he tried to think when those episodes had started. "I get what my mother used to call 'funny turns' if I have to exert myself excessively. Signs of aging, I suppose."

Distracted, she hummed in agreement. "Possibly." She took a step back, trying to remember what that specific rune meant in that configuration. "Besides the exposure to the potions, have you undergone anything physically draining to the point-" She stopped, letting her hands fall to her sides. She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "It looks as if you have a heart murmur. It's minor, but it's there. That might explain your episodes. You were most likely born with it, but since it wasn't a health risk they didn't worry about it." She frowned. How was she supposed to explain this?

"Certain curses can expedite the damage done to the heart if they're done often enough and with enough force."

"Such as, perhaps, the Dark Lord's favorite amusement? The answer, if I'm properly divining the delicate question you're trying to convey, is that yes; I was subjected to the Cruciatus more than once." Severus's expression dared her to feel pity for him at her own peril. "What can be done about this murmur?"

She nodded, unsure if she'd seen anyone who had experienced the Cruciatus curse enough to cause heart damage, yet retained their sanity. She remembered seeing Neville's parents. She didn't wish that on anyone. Not even Snape. "The murmur hasn't caused you much pain. Unless you'd like someone to go in and repair the damage, there are simple potions that can be prescribed to help maintain the murmur so it doesn't grow worse." She pulled a piece of parchment out of her pocket and scribbled on it with a bic. "I can have Blaise make the potions." She looked up, blushing. "Not that you'd be unable to make them yourself."

"Animus Pectoris, I'd assume, or perhaps Armarium Renovum." The appropriate potions rolled off his tongue without any conscious thought, the automatic habit of years. His mind was busy processing the new information and trying to decide what to do with it. "Young Mister Zabini can provide the first dose, as I've sold what I had in stock to St. Mungo's, and it'd be best not to wait for the required brewing time."

After a moment of quiet, he prevented her from speaking by cutting in. "If I were to consider having the repair done, who would you recommend as having the capacity to perform it who would also... resist temptation, shall we say, to have an accident fortunate for the world at large and unfortunate for my own future."

She thought about his question. "You've said St. Mungo's won't treat you, so I really don't know. The repair isn't exactly invasive, but it is intricate. It would take lots of studying. Practice." She shook her head. "It would take preparations. Several potions to thin the blood." She looked at him. "The problem isn't finding someone who could do it. It's finding someone who would." She leveled him with a look, making it clear what she meant. She knew of people who could perform the repair. Who could leave St. Mungo's and perform it freelance, but she wasn't sure if they would perform it. For him.

"Of course." The sneer on his lips was truly an epic example of the breed. "I believe the mention of an ability to pay an astonishing amount might be helpful but, as I mentioned, my likelihood of survival is of the utmost importance. Until you can find someone to fit that description, I'll continue to rely on potions."

Ginny had an idea of someone, but she didn't think Snape would like her idea. Until it became absolutely necessary, she'd wait. It wasn't life threatening, and that is what would matter. "I'll let you know if I find someone appropriate." She took a step back. "I would suggest taking a carbonis potion for the exposure. It should help get rid of the rest of the potion in your body, though it may take a while."

"Very well," he said, sweeping to his feet in a single fluid gesture. "Thank you for your time, Healer Weasley. Please forward your invoice to Hyacinth Elixirs, and inform Mr. Zabini to see me or owl me at his earliest convenience with regard to the potions he might have in stock."

She nodded. "I'll do that. If you have any further medical questions or need anything in the future, I am alerted if someone arrives here at the clinic with an emergency."

Severus nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. And do be careful when meeting Narcissa Malfoy - she's not as kind as I am."

Ginny watched him leave, her jaw all but resting on her chest. What? WHAT? She turned, her eyes wide and headed back towards her office. Merlin. Merlin. Snape knows about... oh Gods. Oh GODS. Who- What- Gods. She collapsed in her chair. Well, fuck.


Summary: Ginny examines Snape and finds an underlying problem. The problem? He's a git.