It gave Severus hope, in a way, that Harry was starting to trust Poppy; at least he was capable of trusting, and yet as Severus watched the boy quietly submit to Poppy's treatment, swallowing his potions with only a grimace in protest, he found that he did not want to be there. To see how fast the boy came to trust Poppy only threw his own failings in his face. He'd returned the boy to Poppy, his duty for the evening was done.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHP

Meanwhile Harry looked at the mediwitch in disgust as she held up yet another potion.

“What's it do?”

“It's an antibiotic potion. It'll keep that infection from traveling to your blood, and clean it out if it's already there. Infections as bad as yours are extremely dangerous if left untreated.

“I don't want it.”

“Too bad. You need it.” Poppy pushed the potion towards Harry, who turned his head away stubbornly. He was already stuck for the night where he didn't want to be. He'd be damned if he'd let this woman feed him yet another disgusting concoction specially designed to make him hurl. The last one tasted like what compost smelled like: rotten. He'd barely managed to keep it down.

“Fine, then,” said the mediwitch, frowning, “let me put it to you this way: one way or another you are taking that potion. You can either stop making such a fuss and take it on your own or I can call Professor Snape back and he can make you take it, but you've got to have it.” She felt bad using the boy's fear of the professor in such a way, but could not figure out how to get the potion into the boy otherwise, and she really would need the professor's help if Harry continued to refuse. Merlin, please don't make us go that route. The boy's traumatized enough for one day.

Harry glowered fiercely in return but didn't say anything, and the mediwitch saw the exhaustion and lingering fear hidden behind his scowl. She sighed. The boy was clearly at the end of his rope, but he really did need the potion, and she also couldn't afford to let him get away with defying medical staff.

She pushed the potion towards him again. This time he took it from her, but made no move to remove the cork.

“Very well, Harry. If that potion's not gone in ten seconds I am calling Professor Snape.” Harry just looked at the wall as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world, pretending not to hear.

“Ten.” Harry stiffened but said nothing and didn't look up. You think COUNTING is going to scare me? Really?

“Nine.” Harry's gaze shifted from the wall to Madame Pomfrey's face, trying to tell if she was serious, before flipping quickly back to the wall. I guess she does.

“Eight...Seven.” Harry heard a bird call and looked out the window, still stiff. What is she doing?

“Six, Five.” Harry transferred his gaze to the floor at feet, stiffening further as he did so. All right, so maybe it does bother me.

“Four.” Harry pulled his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around them defensively. He was frightened. Stupid. Shoulda just taken the dang potion. Maybe...no. I'm not going to back down, now.

“Three.” Harry hid his face behind his knees, gripping the potions bottle tightly.

“Two.” Harry just held on tighter. Not gonna work. I'm not scared of you or that slimy git and I WON'T take that stupid disgusting potion.

“One.”

“Very well. I'll be back with Professor Snape in a couple of minutes.”

He crossed his arms and glared even more fiercely at the mediwitch, who just raised her eyebrows. Harry didn't move. Typical. Do what I say, or I'll hit you, or get someone else to hit you. I didn't even DO anything.

“Harry, look at me, please.” Harry shook his head furiously. Leave me alone. Go call the Executioner.

“Harold James Potter you look at me right now.” Harry snapped his head up anxiously. Nobody'd ever called him that before. What was going on?

The mediwitch looked into Harry's eyes, seeing the fear growing there. “Harry, what is going on? Why are you being so difficult about this? It is just a potion for Merlin's sake! Surely it isn't worth all of this?”

Harry turned away from her stubbornly, putting the potion on the nightstand and tucking his knees further into his chest. Poppy sighed. Damn. I really do have to go get Severus, if he won't take it willingly.

Poppy went into her office to floo call Severus, who looked at her in consternation as she made her request.

“Are you certain that it is necessary?” Asked Severus as he came through.

“It's the Cruentus Purus. I can't take the risk of letting him go without it.”

Severus closed his eyes briefly, pinching his nose. He was not looking forward to this, nor would it improve his relationship with the boy. Damn.

Without a comment Severus walked over to Harry, who lifted his chin and glowered, teeth clenched.

“Potter. This is your last chance to take that potion on your own power. If we could leave it until tomorrow we would, but we cannot, and so you will take it.” Harry just looked at the man aggressively. What're you gonna about it?

Severus sighed. “Very well. Just try to remember that I didn't want to do this.” Severus unstoppered the potion and reached his left hand out towards Harry's head, moving slowly. Harry stiffened but allowed it, just watching as Severus reached around and held the back of Harry's head in a gentle but firm grip, tilting his head back. He then held the potion up to Harry's lips, but Harry clamped them shut. Severus looked at Poppy and nodded, and Poppy sighed before reaching over and gently pinching Harry's nostrils shut. Harry started to fight against the two adults' hold on him, holding his breath for as long as he could before finally opening his mouth the tiniest bit. In a trice, the bitter potion was in his mouth and beginning to flow towards Harry's throat. Harry gagged and started to pull even harder on Severus' hold.

“Swallow, Potter.” Advised Severus, still holding Harry's head back, his hands surprisingly gentle for all he held on tightly. Harry glared wildly at him, his eyes rolling like a panicked horse's might, but held the potion in his mouth, refusing to swallow the bitter concoction. In his position, he couldn't spit it back out, but he could and did prevent it from flowing further down his throat.

Patience, patience. Thought Severus. It'll do no good to get angry, now. I'm scaring him enough as I am. And so Severus moved slowly to stroke Harry's throat and get him to swallow. His hand barely brushed the skin, though, before Harry yanked his head out of Severus' hold and fled to the nearest medicine supply cabinet. Once there, he slammed the door behind him and held it shut with magic.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHP

The potions master sighed. “Very well. Just try to remember that I didn't want to do this.” Harry was confused. You, what?! What on EARTH is going on? Harry gritted his teeth as the potions master forced his head back, exposing his throat in a way that made Harry very uncomfortable. It's okay. He's just holding my head. No need to panic. It doesn't hurt, he's just holding. He just wants to feed me that damn potion. He's not gonna hurt me in front of Madame Pomfrey. Probably. Then the man used his other hand to the potion up to Harry's lips, and Harry clamped them shut. You really thought I was gonna give in to you when I wouldn't to the mediwitch? Harry finally started to struggle when the mediwitch held his nose, traitor, but he kept his head enough to hold his breath and glare. Finally he HAD to breath, and the potion was in his mouth and tasted awful. The mediwitch let go, but the Slytherin Head of House did not, keeping Harry's head tilted so he couldn't spit the noxious potion back out, though Harry pulled ever harder against him.

Damn you, let me go! Leave me alone you bloody sadistic wanker! You can't force me to swallow! A look of annoyance crossed the potions master's face, and Harry felt a moment of triumph before the man's left hand started heading for his exposed throat. Wait, what're you doing? Don't touch me, you bastard! I told you to leave me alone now go away and DON'T TOUCH ME!

As fast as he'd thrown Madame Pomfrey before, Harry found himself in the medicine cabinet with the door firmly shut and blockaded, breathing as if he'd run a marathon and tucking his face down between his knees and coughing hard to expel the potion that had migrated to his lungs during his flight. It's okay now; I'm safe. He can't get me in here, it's okay. I'm safe: it's my cupboard. It's safe here. He can't fit. He can't get the door open; I'm safe; he can't hurt me, and he can't get in. Stupid bloody jerk can just sit out there until the cows come home. Harry's lungs continuously belied his thoughts, though, vying with his heartbeat for speed as the adrenalin poured into Harry's blood and throughout his body. He curled into a tighter ball, trying to control his trembling. Get ANGRY damnit! You're acting like a bloody RABBIT!

Poppy and Severus looked at each other in consternation.

“Well that...was an unmitigated disaster.” Commented Snape.

“What did you do?” Asked Poppy, sounding confused and upset, but not judgmental.

“I have – no idea.” Responded Snape, too surprised to be anything but honest. “I was going to rub his throat, to get him to swallow...I knew I was scaring him before that, but I cannot imagine why he panicked so badly when I touched his throat...”

“Well, maybe eventually he'll tell us. First we've got to get him out of hiding. He's too worked up at the moment.” Poppy pondered for a moment. He's going to need time to compose himself, I think. He seemed quite frightened, though who knows of what this time. Finally she walked over to a sink and started washing out potions bottles unnecessarily loudly. Severus raised an eyebrow before smirking imperceptibly and joining her.

“That blood replenishing potion you needed is almost complete...in a week or so it will be ready for bottling. Is there anything else you have need of?”

Fifteen minutes later Poppy figured that Harry had had enough time to calm himself down, and walked across the room to where he had hidden.

“Will you come out, please, Harry?”

“No.” The boy answered bluntly, with an almost unnatural calm. Just back off. I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to come out, just leave me alone. Thought Harry

Poppy sighed. At least he answered me.

“Why not?”

“Don't feel like it.”

“That's not an answer.”

Harry just shut up. Then you're not going to get one. Just leave me alone. I'm not going to come out when you're just going to force me into doing what you want. And I'm REALLY not going to talk to you about how I FEEL when I'm hiding in a bloody closet. The calmer Harry became, the more conscious he became of the indignity of talking to somebody through a closet door, and the more he wanted people to leave him alone. If he had to get rude and angry to get them to do so, that was just too bad.

“Harry, please don't be rude to me.”

Harry stayed silent. You're the one that got that bastard in here to force me to take that poison. You blame me for protecting myself when you bring in someone stronger to do your dirty work?Now you want me to come out with him still here and you tell me I'm being rude? Just leave me alone, and I'll be fine. I've made it damned clear by now that that's what I want, right? It is polite, I believe, to back off when people want to be alone?As he'd hoped, Harry was finally getting angry again, allowing him to uncurl and stop shaking.

Then Severus spoke up. “Harry you are in enough trouble as it is. If you would desist from this childish temper-tantrum and from causing Madame Pomfrey trouble and just come out when she asks you to we'd all be quite grateful and could call this episode past. Nobody is going to harm you.”

“Oh, really? What were you doing then?” Harry asked inquiringly.

“Attempting to get you to take a potion that is necessary to your well-being. Attempting, in other words, to help you.”

“Oh, I see now. I'm sure it's all for my own good, then.” Harry drawled. “Thanks so much for the help. Unfortunately for you, that's one I've heard before. Try again.”

“Potter, contrary to your obvious misapprehensions, no one is going to harm you, now come out here.”

“Oh, yeah. You're different. You won't harm me - as long as I do what you say, clearly. Again, I've heard it before.”

Severus was frustrated. What in Merlin's name has changed in the last fifteen minutes? He didn't like me before, but he held still, at least. Why is he so convinced I'm going to hit him now?

“If you won't come out, you will at least have the courtesy to tell me why you've determined it necessary to spend time in there in the first place.” Severus' voice had softened marginally, but for all the fancy language it was clearly not a request.

Harry figured that he was in enough trouble, showing his temper wasn't going to change anything. At least he'd get a little of his own in, first. His tone got sharper as he gave up on sounding even remotely polite.

“Wow you really are dense. Didn't I just tell you that?”

“You informed me that you were not going to come out to me to get hit. I admit to a measure of confusion, as I have told you several times already that I have no intention of harming you.” Severus sneered, and though Harry couldn't see it he could hear it in the potions master's voice. “Perhaps, then, it is you who are a little “dense,” as you say.”

Mock me, will you? Two can play that game, dumbass. “Well clearly, your definition of harm and mine are dissimilar. You seem to take an “ends justify the means” approach to the problem. By hurting me, you get me to take a potion that is beneficial to my health, and so you see no harm. All's well that ends well. I find it preferable, however, to both not be hurt and not imbibe your abominable potion. Hence the conflict. In the end your motivation matters nothing: you are of a superior size, and so you impose your preference on me. This is, however, an unsatisfactory situation for me.” Harry found it satisfying at times to speak in a way that his cousin and even his uncle could not understand. He grinned, proud to show Snape that he, too, could sound snobbish and overeducated. Finally, though, he decided to get his point across, “In short, “for my own good” or not, I'm not going to come to you to get hurt.”

Severus found himself amused by Harry's fair impression of himself, and decided that it was a serious improvement on the angry tone that the boy had previously taken. A Potter who showed anger, he had discovered, felt fear. If the boy was being eloquent, and choosing a more subtle, mocking way of baiting the 'greasy git of the dungeons,' then he was probably calming down. Maybe he could use this battle of wits to 'prove' his good intentions.

“That would make sense if it were not for the gaping hole in your logic, Potter. I had no intention of hurting you in the first place, nor do I have any intention of doing so, now. All I did was touch, not grab, not hit, just touch, and slowly at that. I honestly cannot understand what startled you so badly.”

Harry found himself flushing, though the potions master couldn't see. Maybe he wasn't going to grab me? Harry wanted to test the theory, but still worried about coming out with the man still in the room.

“If you don't desire to “take your ire out on my sorry hide”, then you will naturally not object to leaving me alone, as I have taken the required potions and you have therefore finished with me.”

“I take it you wish me to leave?”

“Yes.”

Severus smirked. A bargaining chip. “Generally when negotiating one provides motivation for the opposing party to do as you wish, rather than as they would prefer. I wish to stay until I am sure that Madame Pomfrey has no further need of me.” Severus looked over at Poppy, who shook her head. He smiled crookedly and put a finger to his lips. She nodded her understanding and stayed quiet. Meanwhile Harry processed the professor's words. Negotiating? Is that what this is? Since when do you negotiate? Harry felt a bit suspicious, but decided to take advantage of the situation nonetheless.

“Very well. You want me to come out; I want you to leave. When you leave, and stay gone, I will come out.”

Severus smirked. You're not as smart as you think you are, child. “Goodbye then, for the moment. I will return in the morning. Until then, I would advise you to cooperate with Madame Pomfrey as I will not tolerate anything else. We still have this week's numerous misbehaviors to deal with.”

Numerous? All I did was refuse to take that stupid potion...and try to escape the infirmary...and skip detention...and class...twice...and miss my meeting...and disobey Madame Hooch which started this whole thing. But that's only...well...six things! You wouldn't call six peas “numerous,” would you? Harry thought about this with some trepidation. Why does my sense of self-preservation fail so miserably whenever I am around this man?

Then he realized. He really looks like he's going to leave, though, so maybe he really doesn't intend to hit me for this? He doesn't seem particularly angry. In fact, Harry realized all of a sudden, the potions master hadn't seemed angry the entire time. From there, Harry remembered what the potions master had said before starting. “Very well. Just try to remember that I didn't want to do this.” That was – interesting. Since when did men express regret for their abuses? Aunt Petunia had, a couple of times, but Vernon made no bones about the fact that he liked hurting Harry. Don't trust him yet, fool. He didn't hurt you this time, but that was probably a fluke. You escaped before he managed to get to your throat, after all. The potions master's odd behavior was definitely something to think about, though.

Harry listened as the potions master left, relaxing as he heard the door click shut, though he felt a bit suspicious. No way I actually won a negotiation with that man. What is it that I'm missing?

Poppy left Harry alone for a couple more minutes before calling to him.

“Harry, time to come out, please.”

Harry thought about it. He still really didn't want to, though he was more relaxed than before. The matron's voice turned a trifle stern.

“Harry, you said you would come out when Professor Snape left. He is gone.”

I did say that, didn't I? Damn. It's the only place I'm gonna be able to sleep in this whole stupid infirmary.

Harry stood up, took a deep breath, opened the door and walked out of the closet, head held high. Then he slid back around to lean on the door as it closed behind him, trying to look like was just casually leaning, and not keeping his distance from the remaining adult in the room. He looked up at her blankly. Traitor.

Poppy watched what he was doing and sighed, before speaking bluntly. “Harry, if you're looking for me to apologize it is not going to happen. Professor Snape and I both gave you numerous chances to take the potion on your own speed. I warned you that I would call Professor Snape for help if you would not take it willingly, and you still refused. Neither Professor Snape nor I wanted to force you, but it would have been dangerous for you to go without it and so we had no choice.” Harry thought about this briefly. I told you before that 'for my own good' wasn't a good enough excuse...Harry thought for a minute. But then, while that was no fun, you really didn't hurt me.

Suddenly he realized that Madame Pomfrey was still speaking.

“...and if you are so intent on protecting yourself, why wouldn't you take that potion? I told you exactly why you needed it. You refused it because it tasted bad, and because you were tired of me telling you what to do. Neither is an excuse for throwing a temper tantrum like a spoiled toddler when Professor Snape and I are just trying to get you healthy again.”

Harry looked up at her, then down at the floor. She's right. He was finally calm enough to realize. I suck. He also realized that he believed her, about herself, at least. I still don't know the Professor's motivation, but she's just tried to take care of me this whole time. Now she's mad at me again. He really felt like a stupid, ungrateful child, in that moment, and wished fervently that he could just go back and take the potion and fix that whole, stupid episode.

Poppy read his reaction with some relief. He's listening. She wasn't going to entirely let it go, though. She really couldn't have Harry only obey her because of his fear of Severus, though she figured her colleague would probably also be dealing with the incident.

“You cannot just refuse to take medicine that you need because it doesn't taste good or you feel like you know better than a trained mediwitch. Now go stand in that corner – face to the wall.”

Harry looked at her for a moment, unsure. What's she doing? He didn't think that she meant to hit him, but... She just pointed with an expectant look on her face. Harry bit his lip, looking from her to the indicated corner and back again. I won't be able to see the room, that way.

“Nobody is going to hurt you, and you'll be just fine hearing anyone coming in or leaving, you don't need to see.”

When Harry continued to hesitate she finally got impatient again. “Now, Harry. Ten.”

Remembering his shame from the last time the mediwitch had started to count, Harry finally obeyed, walking over to the indicated corner, and giving a final look over his shoulder before standing still. What happens now?

“Better. Now you're there for twenty minutes so you might as well settle in.” With that, the mediwitch returned to her own business – shuffling papers, reorganizing and otherwise keeping herself busy as she was wont to do when none of her patients needed attention.

At first, Harry mostly felt nervous. He didn't like having his back to the room, and though he'd quickly ascertained that the mediwitch was mostly ignoring him, he couldn't shake the idea that this couldn't be all she intended to punish him. Surely something else was in store. But the mediwitch continued to ignore him, and after the first five minutes or so he relaxed a bit, though he continued to listen to her as she moved around the room.

As the nervousness faded Harry again had the presence of mind to feel embarrassed and ashamed. It felt like something Dudley would do, throwing a tantrum over medicine. He should be grateful for the medicine. He didn't deserve it, and hadn't asked for it, but they'd given it to him anyway. Who was he to reject that? If the mediwitch changed her mind and decided to hit him, he figured he should probably let her. She had been kind to him, and he deserved her anger.

Next, Harry started to feel restless and bored. There wasn't anything to see, and Madame Pomfrey really wasn't doing anything interesting. He shifted from foot to foot, as they started to get the tiniest bit sore, and wished fervently, once more, that he'd just let the woman do what she wanted without freaking out. Now that he was calmed down he was becoming more and more convinced that he had had no reason to get upset – that, even if the Professor hadn't probably meant well, that he still had not intended to grab Harry's throat. Again, the man hadn't acted angry, and he certainly wasn't drunk. Even Vernon only took things that far when he'd gotten drunk.

If Harry had gotten upset, he'd decided, it was because Harry was messed up, and not because the professor had done anything to scare him. 'Again, yet' Harry told himself. But Madame Pomfrey, Harry was starting to think, really wouldn't hurt Harry. Just look at her method of dealing with him now. Being stuck in the corner sucked, Harry decided, but it wasn't hurting him.

And so Harry stood, staring at the corner, feeling more and more miserable. The whole day had just gone so badly. Harry had failed to avoid the professor, failed to keep his secret, failed to face the professor without showing fear, failed to hold still when the mediwitch asked him to, failed, failed, failed. He couldn't even act right when somebody really did try to help him, and now he found, to his intense shame, that he couldn't even control the tears than ran silently down his cheeks. He tried so hard to be an adult, capable of dealing with other adults, capable of fighting, rather than running or hiding, and then something like this happened. Nothing he had done today had gone well, and now he was so tired couldn't even pretend it didn't bother him. Why did he always have to be such a Freak?

“Alright Harry, you can turn around now. Come on out.”

Harry tried to surreptitiously wipe his face, but apparently he'd been unsuccessful at hiding his distress, as the matron suddenly came over, and spoke as gently to him as she yet had.

“Hey, it's okay. We all make mistakes. As far as I am concerned, the incident is over. It's late, why don't we get you set up to go to bed?”

Harry nodded, wanting to be left alone and not trusting himself to speak without further betraying his feelings. Thankfully the matron just led him back to his bed, then dimmed the lights in the infirmary, locked up the medicine cabinets, and retired to her own room, leaving Harry alone. Figuring she would go to bed, Harry set to figuring out where he was going to sleep. He hadn't anticipated that the matron would lock up the medicines, though it made sense. Finally he carried his pillow over to one of the wing's bay windows, figuring that walls on three sides was good enough. He just hoped he'd wake up before she did the next morning, so he wouldn't look weird, choosing the hard windowsill over his much warmer, softer bed. It wasn't enough worry to keep him awake, though: he'd wanted to go to bed hours before. When he'd broken out of the infirmary it had only been six thirty in the afternoon and he'd been plenty tired enough to sleep. Now it was nearly eleven: despite being curled up on a hard windowsill with only a pillow, Harry slept.