The sun had set over the monumental castle that was the Hogwarts School for the Academically and Artistically Gifted and the activity within the walls was slowing down. Classes were over for the day and the encroaching darkness impeded any sort of outside activity. Severus Snape, Hogwarts’ resident literature professor, was just reclining in his quarters with a mug of cider, when a heavy, hurried knocking sounded upon his chamber door.

Irritably, Severus sighed.

“Severus!” came the voice of Minerva McGonagall, his once-teacher, now colleague.

“Yes Minnie?” Severus drawled upon opening the door. McGonagall huffed.

“Your assistance is needed immediately,” she told him, with a worried look on her face. Minerva hardly worried about anything.

“Is it an emergency?” Severus inquired, heaving a sigh.

“I would not say that your assistance was needed immediately if it were not an emergency!” She really looked quite perturbed.

Without another word (which was quite a feat for the ever-mouthy Severus), he followed her out the door and down a long hallway. To Severus’ surprise, they passed the office of the school’s headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, without so much as a glance, and instead made their way to the schools Hospital Wing.

“Oh, marvelous,” Severus muttered, although his initial thoughts were slightly tinged with worry. What if it were one of his students? Or worse, his godson, Draco?

Upon entering the Hospital Wing, Severus saw Albus conversing with the Head Nurse, Poppy. “Ah, Severus!” the old man declared. “I do apologize for disturbing you but this matter, I found, was most pressing.”

Severus rolled his eyes as discreetly as could be managed. “Yes, yes,” he said. “What is the ‘emergency’?” (What he really felt like saying was, “What ‘emergency’ is so dire that I be drug away from my private quarters at the beginning of the end of an excruciatingly long day of pounding information into the empty heads of young, up-and-coming imbecilic wretches?” He possessed some reverence, though, so he did not make that remark.)

With a grim expression on his usually merry countenance, Albus pulled back the curtain enclosing the bed closest to the group. In it lay one Harry Potter, the son of the rival he so bitterly feuded with in his own schooldays.

“What has the boy done now?” Severus sighed. He really did not have the time (or the patience) to be dealing with the aftereffects of a reckless teenager’s antics.

Minerva sent him a strong glare and opened her mouth to speak. The headmaster, however, intervened. “Suicide, Severus, the attempts of which I am certain you are not unfamiliar with.”

“Is dredging up the long-past truly necessary, Albus?” Severus hissed. He did cast his eyes upon the sleeping boy, though. After a long moment of silence, he uttered a simple, “By what means?”

“He tried to drown himself,” Albus answered. The man produced a crumpled bit of paper from the breast pocket of his flamboyant shirt and extended his arm to Severus.

“ ‘The calm,

Cool face of the river

Asked me for a kiss.’ ” Severus read aloud. With a muffled snort, the paper crumpled in his hand. “He didn’t not even cite this work! ...even when attempting death... plagiarist!”

“What in heaven’s name are you talking about Severus?” Poppy asked, bewildered.

Severus rolled his eyes and smoothed the paper. “This little ‘note’ that Potter has left is a short poem by Langston Hughes,” he explained in exasperation.

Minerva snorted and muttered something about how that “was a comment only you could make...”

Severus gave Albus a pointed look. “And please, dear Headmaster do refrain from remarks about my doings as the time of my own downfall; you have brought up enough unpleasant memories for one night.”

Albus gave a slight sigh but did not look irritated. He was used to this sort of behavior from Severus; he had known the ‘boy’ for years. “I would like you to help the boy get back on his feet,” he said.

“Absolutely not!” Severus and Minerva declared simultaneously.

Severus went on to sputter indignantly, “How can you even suggest such a thing? The boy hates me!”

“Only because your derogatory actions leave him no other choice,” Albus said, with a slight shine in his blue eyes.

“Albus, do you really think this wise?” Poppy asked. “Harry has just gone through a difficult ordeal and Severus is not known for his patience and softness...”

“I know, Poppy,” the headmaster responded. “I feel that Severus is the best person to look after Harry, though.”

The other three inhabitants of the room looked baffled.

“The child is not even a member of my House,” Severus added. (The student body of Hogwarts School for the Academically and Artistically Gifted was divided into four houses, based on comprehensive aptitude and personality tests. Severus was the head of the Slytherin House, while Harry was a member of the Gryffindor House.)

“That is of no consequence,” was Albus’ answer. “He will stay in your quarters with you.”

Severus was flabbergasted. “My private quarters? Really Headmaster, that is crossing the line between what is appropriate and what is not!”

“I feel it would be the best course of actions to take for Harry’s full recovery.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose with his long, thin fingers, a low sigh escaping his mouth. “I can only fight you,” he said to the headmaster. “I cannot refuse you.”

“Believe me, Severus, Harry is worth the effort.”

A snort. “I doubt that validity of that statement but I will refrain from any further commentary if I truly am to take this boy ‘under my wing,’ so to speak. I can’t be damaging his already delicate self-esteem, can I?”

“Severus, that is truly enough!” Minerva snapped. She turned to Albus. “How can you think it wise to leave Harry with such a jaded, bitter, vitriolic man such as Severus!?”

There was a short silence, during which Severus’ face went blank. Arching one eyebrow, Severus finally drawled sarcastically, “So is that how you truly feel about me, Minerva? Well, I must applaud you for having enough brainpower left in your old age to remember the meanings of such words as ‘vitriolic’.”

Minerva opened her mouth and hastily closed it when Albus slowly shook his head.

“I feel it is best,” Albus repeated. “We shall discuss this further tomorrow, once young Harry is awake.” The headmaster then exited the room, leaving three very baffled and agitated staff-members behind him.

The sun was once more setting over Hogwarts when Harry Potter finally awoke from a deep and fitful sleep. The room was fuzzy, the colors muted, the shapes blending together. Harry extended an arm and felt around on the small table next to the bed he lay in. As he slipped his glasses on, the world about him became coherent and defined with a sort of reason and purpose that he felt he was exempt from sharing.

"Oh!" The soft exclamation drifted to Harry’s ears and he turned toward the direction in which it came from. Hogwarts’ head nurse, Madam Pomfrey, had risen from her seat a few feet away. "How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?" the nurse queried, as she made her way over to the bed he was occupying.

Harry shrugged, pulling the blankets up around his arms. "I dunno..." he murmured. "Tired. And cold."

Harry took a moment to examine the woman who had personally tended to his many injuries over the years he had been enrolled at Hogwarts. She had fretted about his weight and stature when she had first seen him, always acting motherly and caring. She had laughingly admonished him for small scrapes and slight bruises acquired during mischievous mishaps and sternly reprimanded him when he had seriously hurt himself, like the time he had broken his arm playing football. (1)

Now, though, she was looking at him differently, as though he were a figurine of fragile glass, already cracked. She did not want him to break. It was irritating, really. He did not like the overly soft tones and drop-of-a-hat attentiveness. He would have preferred a stern reprimand right now.

Well, he thought sardonically, I suppose people will be apt to tread lightly around you when you’ve just tried to off yourself.

At that moment the door to the Hospital Wing opened, creaking ever-so-slightly, and successfully attracting Madam Pomfrey’s attention. Harry craned his neck to see who the visitors were.

"Good morning Harry!" Albus Dumbledore greeted, as cheerful as ever. His literature professor, Severus Snape, glowered from the background.

"Um... morning, Headmaster," Harry replied slolwy.

"How are you faring?" Albus queried.

Harry shrugged. "Ah, um..."

"Yes," sneered Severus, "how are you feeling?"

Harry gave him a pointed look in return. "Sir," he ground out flatly, "I feel a funeral in my brain."

"And mourners to and fro, no doubt?" (2)

Albus just smiled at the exchange between the two. "Harry," he began, "I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you."

Harry looked perplexed. "Okay... what about, sir?"

"The matter of your rehabilitation," Albus went on. "I am sorry but I do not think it wise to allow you back into the Gryffindor dormitories so soon after such a..." he paused, searching for a word. "... strain."

Harry’s face fell. "Then, then where am I to go?" he asked, thoughts of expulsion and, worse, the Dursleys running through his head.

"I feel it would be in your best interest to stay with Professor Snape."

"What?!" Harry cried out, eyes widening in a mixture of shock and confusion. "But why?"

"I asked that very same question myself, Potter," Snape drawled, looking sour.

Dumbledore smiled briefly, before continuing. "I know that you and Severus are somewhat less than fond of each other but please, for me, try to make this work."

"Well, I guess I’ll have to..." Harry muttered, looking at his hands. This whole thing didn’t make any sense to him.

Snape, he thought. Why Snape? He hates me, I hate him, and... he’s Snape!

"Believe me, Potter, I am not at all pleased about this little ‘arrangement’ either. However, I will not tolerate any disrespect."

"Oh, no sir," Harry drawled out (in a rather Snape-esque manner, actually). "I will be the epitome of good behavior."

Snape snorted and muttered something about "big words for such a small brain."

"Now, now boys," Dumbledore gently admonished, "please try to behave." He turned to Harry. "I know this is a shock to you but I assure you that, by agreeing stay with Severus here, you both just may have some things to learn." He turned, heading for the door. "Now, Harry," he said before exiting, "once you feel you are fit to leave the Infirmary you may pack your things up and transport them to Professor Snape’s private quarters."

As he walked out the door, Harry heard Severus murmur under his breath, "Busy old fool... unruly son." (3) And at that moment, Harry felt that he couldn’t agree more.