Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. The plot is mine. well about as much mine as any other thought I've had can claim to be original and mine -but that's an entirely other debate and therefore suffice it to say that I'm just playing with JKR's characters and world. Thank you.

Pairings: HP/SS *NOTE that this means relationships of a male/male pairing. I would ask that if this is not your cup of tea, then please don't read.

Summary: Harry Potter-Snape, resident medi-wizard of Hogwarts and successor of Mme Pomfrey, married Severus Snape five years ago, at age 20. The war raged on since his seventh year and ended six years later with only a handful of Death Eaters escaping. As the wizarding world tries to rebuild itself, Harry feverishly researches a cure for Dextrystic (Dex): a rare hereditary disease that has four phases. The last phase is fatal. Everyone thinks he's crazy to waste his time. is he?

Author's Note: at the end of the chapter.

The Danger of Silence By Ekkentros

"Sev, you're working too hard again." Harry admonished as he hugged the stretching Potion's Master from behind. With a contented sigh, Severus leaned back into the warmth of his husband.

"I have yet to finalize the exact quantity of ashfondle needed, and the meeting with Yorick is in two days!"

Reluctantly, Sev bent back over his bubbling cauldron and continued his research, effectively tuning out the rest of the world in the process. Harry shook his head and smiled fondly at his oblivious lover in his element.

"You missed dinner again, so I brought you something up from the kitchens. It's on the workbench behind." He paused to check and see if Sev was listening. After a pause, Harry gently but firmly reached over and turned the engrossed Potion Master's chin towards him.

"What's that?" Distracted momentarily, Sev focused on the other man.

"Dinner. Behind you." Harry clarified and gave him a kiss on the nose for good measure. "Try to make it to bed tonight, please. Your back will thank you."

Severus nodded, already tuning out gain, so Harry cut to the chase.

"Have I told you how much I love you today?" That got his husband's attention and a warm smile.

"I love you too, Harry. I'll be done soon." Sev reassured.

"I'm so proud of you." Harry gently kissed his lover and let go his hold on Severus' chin. Sev smiled softly and turned back to his cauldron. As Harry turned to leave, the scroll in his left hand caught his attention and he suddenly remembered the other purpose of his mission to seek out the Potion Master. He looked back at the hunched over form and then at the piles of parchment littering the workroom.

"Sev . . ."

He was met with a grunt. After a pause, Harry took the grunt as acknowledgement and tried again.

"Could you . . ."

Glancing at the piles of parchment again and the haggard slump in Sev's shoulders, he lost his nerve.

"It's nothing, love."

He turned to leave again, when a wave of pain washed over him. He stifled a gasp and turned back to Severus, emboldened by the fresh reminder of his condition.

"Sev . . ."

"What Harry!" Sev snapped, a tinge of impatience slipping into his voice.

"D-did y-ou," he cursed himself for stuttering. "Did you get a chance to look at the research I gave you on the Dextrystic disease? Because I have more findings here, and I know that you could come up with a cure for the second and third phase if you just took a look . . ."

"Harry, we've been over this!" Severus whirled around exasperatedly. "Fred is fine. Cured. By YOU! Dextrystic is a terrible disease but it is incredibly rare. The fact that Mr. Weasley had it does not mean the rest of that clan will get it!"

"Yes, but . . ."

"In fact," Sev continued undaunted, as he strode across the room to the distressed medi-wizard, "he, along with a handful of his generation, were the only ones affected. And you recognized the signs of that first stage and cured them, practically ELIMINATING the disease altogether!" Pausing for a second to gaze hard at Harry, Sev stalked back to his workbench.

"This, on the other hand," indicating the bubbling potion, "may save countless lives by providing a natural barrier against magical depletion spells. . . the leading cause of most serious ailments I might remind you!" He watched as Harry's shoulders slumped a little, and relented.

"Harry, love, I promise to look into your findings once this potion is approved. Now, get some rest and I'll join you shortly." He turned back to his work when he saw the young man turn to go.

"Oh, and Harry," he called out suddenly, "no one you love will die from Dextrystic. I promise you that."

Harry stopped in the door and smiled sadly his engrossed husband. Another wave of pain made him lean again the doorway.

"No Sev, someone you love may die." Sighing softly, Harry walked out of the room.


One week later found a very stressed and sleep-deprived medi-wizard, running down the corridors of the castle to the front entrance, to catch up to the departing Headmaster.

"Headmaster! Headmaster!"

Clutching tighter to the various scrolls in his arms, Harry burst into an all out sprint.

"Headmaster! Dumbledore! Albus!"

The last finally caught his query's attention. The Headmaster and his entourage of aurors stopped momentarily and waited for the frantic young man to catch up. When Harry finally caught up, he doubled over breathing hard- much to the amusement of the rest of the group.

Eyes dancing merrily, Dumbledore laughed, "My, my Harry, what can I do for you, that has got you in such a frazzled state?!" Peering closer, he noticed the sunken bags under the medi-wizards eyes and frowned.

"You look terrible, my boy. . ."

"Thank you. . ." Harry breathed out in a midst of gulping breaths. Once his heart rate was semi-regular, he began again. "We had a meeting a 4 o'clock regarding your help on my research."

"I'm deeply sorry Harry," the old wizard cut in jovially, "but word of the remaining Death Eater rabble's whereabouts has been heard and I must be off. This is the last remains of Voldemort and his threat to be dealt with!" Patting Harry on the back, Dumbledore continued, "Leave your research on my desk and I'll look it over when I return."

"Yes, but I'm missing the final link -which I'm sure you could spot- and we'll have found the cure for the second phase of Dextrystic!" Harry pleaded.

"You've already eliminated Dex, Mr. Potter-Snape. Why worry about the complete cure?" an Auror spoke up.

Ignoring him, Harry implored the Headmaster. "I'm so close, Albus. If you could but spare 30 minutes before you leave. . ."

Dumbledore merely shook his head and signalled the group to proceed ahead.

"Leave it on my desk, Harry, and I promise to take a look upon my return. The end is finally here! No one will fall to Dextrystic anytime soon." Dumbledore said to the distraught young man. And with another pat on Harry's shoulders, the Headmaster strode out of the main entrance.

Frustrated, Harry slowly made his way to the stone gargoyle while rereading over his notes. He whispered the password absently and proceeded to walk to the steps and into the Headmaster's office. A warbled few notes met his ears from the preening phoenix on the wood desk. Sighing pitifully, he placed his notes among the other parchment and scrolls hiding the wooden surface of the desk, and turned to the phoenix.

"Hey Fawkes," he said, "don't suppose you could look these over and tell me what I'm missing." He mentioned to this stack of notes, but only got a confused look from his audience that promptly went back to preening.

Silently, the medi-wizard turned and left the office, heading to his work space in the hospital wing. The raid would bring in a lot of casualties and he was sure his research would suffer. Sighing again, and glancing back at the Headmaster's desk one last time, Harry continued his journey, leaving behind him a preening phoenix, a pile of research notes, and one letter of resignation on the desk.


The hospital wing was silent, not an abnormal occurrence during the summer months. The sun gaily shone down on the white pristine sheets of the unoccupied beds and the various multi-coloured sun-catchers cast soft palettes of colour around the room. The sun-catchers were Harry's idea, reminiscent of his muggle upbringing. When doing the dishes during the summer months, the sun-catchers in Aunt Petunia's kitchen windows washed calming waves of colour over the oppressed teen. The warm coloured lights dancing across his skin reminded him of a mother's touch -or what he imagined a mother's touch would be like. From then on, wherever Harry inhabited, a sun-catcher marked his stay.

It was in this calm but cheery atmosphere that the apprentice medi-wizard -could have been official medi-wizard as Harry constantly reminded him, but he didn't want to leave Hogwarts- strode into, to apprise his mentor of the wounded that were starting to come into Hogsmead. He had been shopping for a birthday present for Harry when an injured Auror apparated in the middle of the town with news of the raid: the Death Eaters were defeated! The casualties were high but the war had finally ended! Bouncing along the rows of beds while making sure they wing was ready, he sung out,

"Never fear! Gabe Mortell, medi-wizard extraordinaire is her... AHH!"

A projectile launched by the frustrated figure behind the desk in the office Gabe had just entered, caught the exuberant man between the eyes.

"You know, in some countries this could be considered assault!" Gabe groused as he picked up the crumpled parchment. Noticing the continued frown on the other man's face, he tried again.

"Lemme guess, Severus just sent word that instead of having been on the raid for the past two weeks, he actually ran away with you Godfather to make hot-monkey love, and with me being as gorgeous as I am," he posed, "the sexual tension mounting these last two sexless weeks has come to a head and you can't restrain from jumping me!"

With a dramatic sigh, he stretched himself out on the chair in front of the desk, encouraged by the small quirk of Harry's lips.

"If you must," with this he opened his arms wide, "I offer myself up as the proverbial pure lamb to sacrifice my virginity to appease your greatness."

Another wadded piece of parchment found its way in between Gabe's eyes.

"Virgin? You?" Harry asked incredulously, frown gone.

"You dare accuse me of being promiscuous?!" Gabe gasped in mock horror. At the slight raise in Harry's eyebrows, he conceded. "I prefer to call it sampling. I'm a Ravenclaw. We're highly curious by nature."

Harry rolled his eyes. No one could ever accuse Gabe of being dull, he thought to himself. Standing just over 5'11", the 23 years old former Ravenclaw, was smart as a whip and equally as quick. Harry sometimes wondered how Gabe had ever ended up in the studious Ravenclaw when he could put the boisterous Griffindors to shame. But despite the carefree smiles and goofy antics, Gabe was on of the smartest and studious people he knew . . . almost surpassing Hermione.

He had known Gabe for six years now. Mme Pomfrey had died during the first attacks of the war and her two-year apprentice had been forced to take the reigns. Harry proved himself superior to his mentor with his instinctual natural skill and powers and kept the Light warriors on their feet. During one particularly nasty battle, when the casualties started to stream in, a seventh year Ravenclaw -looking more like a Californian surfer with his dark tan, blond hair and blue hazel eyes- offered his assistance to the young medi-wizard. The next three years of war solidified the apprenticeship of Gabriel Mortell to Harry Potter. Gabe proved himself good on his feet and innovative, and when Gabe's mother and younger brother were lost in a Death Eater raid, Harry became the older brother Gabe looked up to. The younger medi-wizard had finished his apprenticeship last year, and with this experience during the war, was asked for by many schools and hospitals; but, he stayed at Hogwarts. Why, Harry had never managed to get it out of him, only that this was his home.

Harry smiled softly at the memories, and it was a moment before he realized the buzzing in his ears was actually the younger man's voice.

". . . won! And they'll be here in a . . . thirty seconds."

"Huh?" Harry replied eloquently. Gabe rolled his eyes.

"Raid done. We won. Casualties come. Ho Hum." Gabe summarized.

"Funny." Harry dead-panned. "How much time?"

"In ten, nine, eight, seven, six . . ." Gave droned on while leaving the office. He had made Harry relax but hadn't had any delving time. He stored his questions away for further investigations.

". . .three. two." Harry summoned all the potions and equipment he though he would need and hastily locked his research into the bottom drawer of his desk.

". . .one. . ."



"You look like hell."

Harry looked up from his patient slowly, glowering at the smirking blonde behind him. The hospital wing was quiet for once; the remaining patients were blissfully asleep. Wincing slightly from another wave of pain that was coming more frequently and more intensely, Harry straightened his cramped back.

"I knew it was a mistake to save your life." Harry bit out.

"You wound me!"

"Is it mortal?" That got them both chuckling.

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter loved to hate each other. It made for an interesting friendship. Draco became one of the most decorated heroes of the war, his contribution as a spy and warrior were invaluable.

"You do look like hell though, Harry," Draco began a bit more seriously after their bout of chuckling. He had noticed Harry's little grimaces of pain for a long time. They would be in the middle of a verbal spare, when Harry would grimace and pause for a bit, or they would be racing for the snitch in a shinny game of Quidditch and Harry would pull himself out of the race. The bouts of discomfort didn't last long and didn't appear to cause him anymore harm then mere annoyance. At first, he had been scared that Dex had infected his friend; but, ever since Harry had refined the screening for the disease, passed the law for the mandatory testing of Dex in every magical person and each new baby, and created a vaccine and cure for the first phase, Dex had become non-existent. To this day, Draco had no idea how Harry has diagnosed Fred Weasley, only that he had recognized the barely traceable signs of the first phase of Dex and had thrown himself into researching the cure. He succeeded, but hadn't stopped his obsessive research. Not that Draco could blame him; Harry had lost too many people in his short life.

Draco had cornered his friend about his mysterious ailment, but Harry had assured him that it was a condition he had had since childhood and that it was nothing to worry about. Being the resident expert on medicine and diseases, Draco trusted Harry's self-diagnosis and left the matter alone. But what if Voldemort created a new disease and infected Harry before he was destroyed? What if it's a muggle disease? Can Harry diagnose and cure muggle diseases? What if . . .

"Draco! Houston to space cadet! Come in!"

"Space cadet?" Draco asked confused, coming back from his hysterical musings.

"Muggle term," Harry explained. Just then, an alarm startled the two men.

"Damn!" Harry muttered and started to run to another section.

"Who is it?" Draco called out after the retreating medi-wizard.

"Ford. Thought I had him stabilized. I'll see you later, Dray." The sound of muttered spells filled the silent wing.

Sighing, Draco left. Perhaps there really was nothing to worry about. Puzzled, Draco sought out his Godfather.


Gabe gave a contented sigh as he leaned back from the large Head table. The house elves had really outdone themselves on the roast and potatoes; he would have to remember to swipe some leftovers from the kitchen for a midnight snack. A gay atmosphere flooded the Great Hall as all its occupants indulged in their first celebratory feast since the raid. Black told yet another joke, invoking peals of laughter from the already doubled over crowd. Even Snape cracked a smile. The appearance of the Potions Master was courtesy of the continuous nagging of one stubborn medi-wizard. How Harry managed to drag the antisocial wizard away from his experiments and Death Eater testimonials was a mystery to remain forever unsolved. Gabe suspected the exchange of sexual favours and the employment of the infamous Puppy Dog Eyes were used to persuade the ever stoic man to dine. Or maybe Snape just felt like coming . . . and maybe Snape preferred moonlighting in drag at The Dancing Frog -that last singer had a striking resemblance .

Shaking his head of that last disturbing image, Gabe noticed -not for the first time- that the chair beside Snape remained unoccupied. Harry had been called away at the beginning of dinner due to a medical emergency, but promised to find his way back soon. That was over an hour ago. Snape seemed to have followed his train of thought too, because his eyes kept darting to the doorway periodically. Taking in the Potions Master's weary slump in the shoulders and under eye baggage, he decided to forfeit his night off and play doctor this evening.

"Excuse me, Professor," Gabe said, while leaning across the table, "I'll make you a deal."

Ignoring the weary look shot his way, he ploughed on.

"I'll go find that wayward husband of yours that has picked up your annoying traits of working to death, and send him home, if you promise to meet him there and not show up in public before lunch tomorrow."

In typical Gabe style, the young man took off before an answer was given. The momentary look of gratitude in Snape's eyes was enough for him.


There were no alarms ringing when Gabriel Mortell strode into the hospital wing. There were not cries of pain or the rapid muttering of spells. Only the peaceful tranquility of healing permeated the air.

"Harry? Mon capitaine?" Gabe called out as he made his way towards the back to of the wing. "I'm here to rescue you from yourself and whisk you away to a certain dungeon. . . Harry?"

The office was in shambles; papers were everywhere and the crunch of glass under his feet spoke of thrown objects. Only the slow rise and fall of the slump on the desk bespoke of any life in the room.

"Harr. . ."

"What are the four phases of Dex?" The slump asked.

"The first phase is the building up of toxins in the respiratory, nervous and circulatory systems -basically every part of the body- that affect strength and physical activities. This process could be rapid or slow depending on the exertion of the victim. Some people live their entire lives in the first phase. Symptoms are almost untraceable or were almost untraceable until a certain Harry Potter refined the testing."


"Right. As amounts of toxins increase, the victim exhibits increasing un- coordination, fatigue and an affinity for injury. No one can predict when the victim will pass onto phase two, which is characterized by pain and an overall aching feeling caused by physical activity. The third phase increases the physical pain as well as affects the magical properties of the person and causes intense pain to the point of paralysis if the victim overexerts themselves physically and/or magically. The fourth and final phase is characterized by the sudden absence of pain. The toxins attack the magical core of the person, slowly draining the victim to death. Each phase varies in their duration."

Gabe paused to breathe and assessed the slump.

"Known cures?" Gabe cracked a smile at this.

"Recently, a cure for the first phase of Dex has been found, as well as promising experimental potions for the second and third phases by medi- wizard Harry Potter. The fourth phase if considered fatal and incurable. Did I pass, Sir?"

At this, the slump finally moved. A mop of unruly black hair first made its appearance, then a smooth forehead decorated with a lightning bolt scar followed, and finally, bloodshot green eyes.

Gabe gasped. "You're a bloody fine medi-wizard Gabe. Hogwarts is getting the best."

"I don't understand. . ."

"I just entered phase four."



~So what did you think? Hope you enjoyed!

Peace luv and all that jazz!