Stepping into the infirmary, the first thing Severus did was summon screens from the far wall and shield the nearest bed which happened to be empty before carefully setting Harry down on it.  While under the pretext of positioning the unconscious boy’s head and neck to avoid muscle strain his hands lingered on Harry’s head for a moment, briefly ruffling his hair and hovering as if to protect the boy’s head from any further hurt.  Severus, with no intention of leaving, summoned a straight-backed wooden chair and seated himself close beside the bed while Poppy, who said nothing of the uncharacteristic behaviour, readjusted one screen from the outside of their enclosed haven to afford more privacy then fluttered off to check her other patients.

It was still early, the sun sending out weak buttery rays, when there was a small pop near where Severus sat and a dejectedly floppy ear and a large eye peaked around one of the screens.

“Professor Snape sir?”  It was the quietest Snape had ever heard a house elf speak and, in an odd moment of compassion for the little being – and while despairing that Harry had obviously managed to make him a more sympathetic person all round– Severus felt compelled to answer the unasked question.

“He should be fine.”  He didn’t expect a sleeve-full of sobbing elf but he supposed ruefully that he probably should have so he allowed it for a few seconds – which for him felt like a few seconds too long – before shaking his sleeve out and unobtrusively pushing away the elf.  Said elf seemed to realise something as he popped away before reappearing almost instantly with his arms full of a tray containing a full English breakfast on it which he set down on the bedside table beside where Harry lay.  The elf bowed low to a nonplussed Severus before popping out of existence again.  “Of all things Harry, a house elf?” he asked the unconscious boy quietly as he stared at the air where moments before an annoying elf had stood.  He looked at the unmoving, still too-pale face and his own softened markedly before he turned to his breakfast.

It was another hour until Minerva McGonagall stepped into the infirmary.  Severus heard her calling softly for Poppy and listened from behind the wall of privacy screens as the two women began conversing quietly.  With a whispered spell Severus was privy to every word.

“That woman is still after him.  I can’t be sure what he did to her but one would think he murdered her entire family the way she goes after him.”  Severus was surprised by how vicious Minerva sounded – especially for seven in the morning – and he looked at Harry, a smile twisting his lips as he thought, only you.

“That woman barely warrants the title.”

“Believe me; I’ve heard all the invectives from the students.”

“I’m sure Severus could fill you in on one or two you haven’t heard; your lions aren’t the only one’s she victimises.”

“But Harry is the most frequent.”

“Yes, it does seem so.”

“She’s been asking for rights to him,” Minerva murmured after a moment and despite her angry disbelief Severus could feel even through the screens as well as that bubbling inside himself, she continued, still quietly. “Access to him every night after classes for detentions she hasn’t any excuse to issue, assignments she hasn’t given and insists must be done with one-on-one tutelage.  I’ve blocked her every time but I’m afraid I may have taken my temper out on the wrong people these last few days.”

Silence reigned as both women seemed to ponder the injustice of life and Severus would have rolled his eyes on any other day but instead he was fighting down the cold fury.  Umbridge had asked Minerva for access to Harry, had been denied and had inflicted herself on the boy regardless and no one had known.  No one had known other than Severus who hadn’t thought to investigate further.  But he would make reparation and he would make that woman pay.  The thoughtful silence on the other side of the partition had Severus restraining his fury; he hadn’t spoken of his theory to Poppy yet and was fairly sure that, had the medi-witch thought of the possibility that Umbridge was the cause of the boy’s hurts, she would be more openly furious at the mention of the woman.  As for Minerva...

“He is here then?”  Severus stiffened at Minerva’s query and wondered briefly at the flare of possessiveness he’d felt at the probability of her appearing from behind the screens at any moment, ready to take over his position at Harry’s bedside and watch over him.  He decided that whatever happened, she couldn’t make him leave.  For the boy to have ended in the infirmary in this condition surely showed that Harry needed far more protection and guidance than he’d been receiving and Severus would be damned if he would leave that job to someone else again; incompetent fools or distracted ones, he wouldn’t leave his charge to their dubious care any longer.

“He is, but...” Severus couldn’t help feeling sorry for Poppy.  For all her distance, Minerva was notoriously passionate about her lions and that Harry could have become so sick under her watch boded ill for them all – Minerva’s temper was just as notorious after all.

“But what Poppy?”

“Perhaps we should discuss this in my office.”

After another moment’s silence Severus heard retreating footsteps and braced himself while keeping his eyes trained on Harry’s wan face.  The barest flicker of movement behind pale eyelids had Severus leaning forward and murmuring, “you’re alright, everything’s alright,” finally able to push away the unease he felt at his own actions.  It was foolish of him to think himself unchanged after all.  Far more sensible to accept it and do what he could to rectify the situation he’d had a hand in creating, however unwittingly.  He hadn’t done his job, hadn’t protected one of his students; his charge, the boy he’d sworn to protect.  He’d failed and it wouldn’t happen again, not now that he didn’t have to split his loyalties or maintain a front of hatred for followers of his old master.  Not when he could see for himself the vulnerable, fragile wisp of a boy he had allowed to be hurt in so many ways to the point that, when Severus found him in the snow, he was sure he’d been laying eyes on a corpse. 

No one would have the opportunity to hurt him again, not now that Severus’ vision of the boy was unfettered and his time and loyalties were his own.  He was his own man and he would use the chance to be something better than he had been.  And those who had hurt his charge would pay.

Though Severus hadn’t expected anything less, Minerva was like a tornado in her fury as she suddenly slammed her way out of Poppy’s office and pulled the closest screen back so harshly it nearly fell to the floor and only stopped when Poppy caught it.  Standing before Severus and Harry, breathing harshly with her lips in a pale line, her eyes spat venom at the world.  It took her a very long time to get herself under control and Severus and Poppy gave her all she needed as Severus continued to watch closely over Harry and Poppy fluttered around the wing agitatedly. 

“You know who did this?”

And just like that Severus’ mind was spinning because he had been keeping his tenuous composure by attempting to push aside his many thoughts of vengeance other than the term in its most abstract in the face of healing Harry.  At Minerva’s furious whisper Severus’ eyes became endless black tunnels promising pain.  His mind whirled as, in the space of seconds, all the marks and wounds and words on Harry’s body imprinted themselves behind his eyes and the possible culprits came to mind.  He knew what had caused the injuries and he knew who had to have done it and the empty tray from his breakfast shook briefly on the bedside table before he was able to restrain his magic once more behind iron walls in his mind, because blowing apart the hospital wing wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as one woman’s head.  His voice was clipped and harsh from the effort his forbearance was costing him when he spoke.

“Do you?”

“I have a strong suspicion.”  Minerva’s voice was breathy and almost weak from the effort her own fury was clearly costing her to contain.  Severus couldn’t help himself.

“And you decided to stand aside regardless,” he hissed.  Minerva’s eyes flashed but not with her usual fire, as though her fury was warring with the guilt Severus could see if he looked hard enough.  “What kind of Head of House are you?”  Faced with an outlet Severus was unleashing an unwarranted amount of anger and knew it somewhere in his mind but didn’t want to acknowledge it because it felt so right to let it out.

“Apparently I’m in good company,” Minerva hissed back and Severus bristled but stopped himself from saying anything further for a moment; long enough to realise Minerva wasn’t any of the multitude of people he wanted to be raging at.  His colleague seemed to realise the same and they saw it in the other’s face and no more was said on the matter, especially since a better outlet for both of their anger entered a moment later.

When the infirmary doors opened again it took all of Severus’ effort not to have his wand drawn on the person as Minerva’s was and the fact that it was his employer did very little to calm his rage. 

“An impromptu staff meeting?” Albus asked and Poppy, Minerva and Severus stared for a moment at the man whose eyes weren’t as bright as usual in his concern but weren’t nearly as dark as they should have appeared had he known – and he should have known! – before Poppy’s wand was moving, transfiguring curtains around the beds of every other patient in the ward before they were drawing themselves closed to block the private conversation out with silencing charms.  Severus absently noticed Poppy using a one-way charm to ensure she would be aware of any change in the condition of any of her other charges before redirecting her attention.  By then Albus’ eyes had fallen on Harry and the concern deepened the frown creasing the Headmaster’s brow but there was still no anger on his face and it only heightened Severus’ sense of outrage.

“Did you know?” Severus wasn’t used to growling at his employer but this time he couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d wanted to – and he really didn’t – and the look he received was more gratifying than anything else.  He didn’t know it from his vantage point behind her but Minerva was equally gratified and equally furious and Albus was quite taken aback by the expressions he was being greeted with from two of his most trusted employees.

“I’m afraid I seem to be rather out of the loop.” 

Severus sneered and Minerva hissed at Albus just a little before Poppy, attempting to diffuse the situation despite her own disbelief that the usually all-knowing man could know nothing, spoke in clipped but quiet tones.  “I think we should discuss this in my office.”

“You can discuss it out here.” Severus said glaring at Albus whom he knew to be playing incredibly stupid and he caught but ignored the nod Minerva gave his suggestion in favour of watching Poppy shake her head.  He went to interrupt her disagreement before she cut him off.

“Think Severus.  My office is warded.”  And Severus deflated just a little because Harry’s protection came first, before Albus’ stupidity and Severus and Minerva’s anger and their shared desire for vengeance; Harry had to come first.  He nodded once and Poppy led a stunned Albus away, leaving two very frustrated professors to stew at the boy’s bedside.

The Headmaster and the medi-witch hadn’t been gone for long, Severus and Minerva attempting to calm themselves to the sight of Harry’s stillness and his slow, deep breathing, when the doors burst inwards and the hated voice rang through the white room, shattering any semblance of calm that might have existed.

“Poppy!  Poppy!  I demand-”

In a flash Severus and Minerva were on their feet standing between Harry’s bed and the door but Umbridge had already seen and her face twisted until it looked inhuman.  Before she had the chance to do more than open her mouth once more Albus was striding majestically from Poppy’s office, followed closely by the matron as they both moved to stand beside Severus and Minerva, a united front between the one they suspected and the one she’d hurt; the one they would all die to protect.  The sight of her had Severus’ jaw clenching as he struggled not to spring forward and beat her bloody against the flagstones.

“What is the meaning of this?”  Umbridge’s voice was shrill and demanding as ever, as though she still had the right to demand anything within these walls.  Severus smirked hatefully; he would have fun tearing strips off her, one way or another.  Preferably the way that would draw an awful lot of blood. 

“I feel we are in need of a little chat Delores.”  Severus nearly erupted before he saw the look on the Headmaster’s face.  Quiet fury.   Absolute power.  He knew and he wasn’t happy and Severus relaxed the way Voldemort relaxed in a torture chamber because they would have their justice now.  Umbridge seemed too stupid to realise as much.

“I don’t have time to chat Headmaster,” she almost choked on her own derision, “what is that boy doing in bed?  He should be in class!”  Severus was filled was a burning need to see this woman reduced to ashes and perhaps reburnt until she literally ceased to exist.  He felt his stomach twist at the sheer hatred on her face when her eyes skittered to Harry lying prone and so small in his hospital bed behind his wall of defenders.  The same defenders who hadn’t defended him when he’d needed it.  Severus moved to block her view of the boy further, to stop her gaze tainting him, and Umbridge scowled at him as Minerva did the same; closing any gaps in the wall they made between the vile woman and their student and stopping her poisonous glare alighting on the defenceless boy.  Not defenceless.  Not anymore.

At the movement Umbridge’s eyes became positively feral and there was a madness tinged light of possession there, as if she owned the boy and knew it and that more than anything had Severus drawing his wand on her, the tip poking harshly into her tweed covered chest when she stepped forward to physically move them from her line of sight.  It registered somewhere in Severus’ fury that Minerva had her wand in a similar position and that even Albus – the peace-lover of them all, the one to calm tempers and the ultimate advocate for ‘talking things through’ – was standing by and saying nothing about the drawn wands between his employees and there was a touch of satisfaction to his expression that mirrored Poppy beside him, though hers was almost overwhelmed by her rage at the DADA teacher. 

“He should be in class,” Umbridge screeched again, incensed now at her own comparative lack of defenders and the wands now half-way embedded in her large chest.  “I will not have him skiving off classes just because he can hoodwink all of you.”  She raised a pudgy hand to the shoulder Severus held against Minerva’s to move him aside and a split second later her eyes were crossing to see the point of the dark wand in his hand directed between her eyes.  Her eyes widened, making her look more toadlike than ever then narrowed to the tiniest of slits.  “I will not have this,” she hissed. 

“You are sorely mistaken if you think you will have anything from him ever again,” Severus hissed back, his voice much lower and colder and so much more impressive that Umbridge could have been a newborn kitten in the face of a viper for all the terror she inspired.  Though, of course being the dim-witted woman she was, she failed to realise this.

“And might I add Miss Umbridge, you may also not have a post at this school once the morning is through.”   Albus Dumbledore’s voice was a calmly genial as ever but there was such fire and ice in his eyes that his words could have been taken no other way than as a threat.  The incensed – and rather bright red – woman puffed up her chest indignantly until she looked like a large pink balloon and Severus eagerly awaited the moment he would burst her to minute, Umbridge-y pieces.  Later, must keep her away from Harry first.   Umbridge turned on her employer with the air of an empress and the bearing of an ape.

“I think you will find Professor,” she said in tones that strove vainly for sickly sweet, “that you aren’t able to terminate my employment at Hogwarts.  I was stationed by the Minister himself and only he can remove me.”

“Of course you are quite right.” Severus turned his eyes – though not his wand – on Albus, waiting for a ‘but’ and practically thrumming with his fury from the possibility that Albus would leave Harry – again – at the mercy of this woman.  Umbridge turned victorious eyes on Severus and then Minerva who growled menacingly back.  “However,” Albus continued in a carrying tone and Severus’ faith was restored, “you may find that the Minister will soon be inundated with letters from parents who aren’t entirely pleased with some of the methods of punishment being used on their children, no matter how much you may think them in need of such measures.  Especially not when the Minister himself is seen to be approving of those measures, since, as you so astutely pointed out, he placed you here himself.  One might even say that you embody the Ministry in this school and that your actions are those of the Ministry’s.  But surely not many of those unhappy parents will be voters and the next election is a good few months off isn’t it?” 

“I have done nothing that wasn’t necessary.”

And just like that she was flying across the room to land with an almighty bang against the far wall of the infirmary.  Albus’ voice was resigned when he sighed, “Severus, I happen to know for a fact that your accidental magic has been well under your control since you were fifteen.”

“I hardly know what to say Headmaster.” 

Albus hummed but left it at that as they kept their eyes on the slightly more dangerous-looking woman shakily finding her feet across the room.

“Did you see what he did?” She cried waving a pointed finger wildly in Severus’ general direction as Albus regarded her with his normal calm and Severus raised a wry brow, the edge eased from his anger for a moment thanks to the outlet he’d indulged in.  “I demand you control him!  I will not be... be thrown!”  Despite her still evident rage, Minerva let out a chuckle at that, though it was rather dark and foreboding and the first hint of wariness finally started to creep into Umbridge’s expression.

“As much as I would like to, we are all adults here with the exception of Mr Potter, and he isn’t really part of this conversation, being as he is still unconscious.  I can no more control Severus than I can control you.”  With that Albus’ eyes turned steely and Umbridge, though monumentally stupid much of the time, recognised the threat this time because, for all his denials, Albus Dumbledore had more power than almost anyone in the Wizarding world and, as with Severus, that power extended to Umbridge.  She swallowed heavily.  “Speaking of Mr Potter,” Albus continued in a shiver-inducing tone that had Severus glad he was not the one it was aimed at. “I would like to ask; you said earlier that you did nothing that was not necessary.  What exactly did you do?”

“Mr Potter earned every single detention he had with me,” she declared obstinately, sounding more and more the petulant child.

“His actions aside, what did those detentions involve?  Cleaning cauldrons, writing lines, training mice?”  There was no humour whatsoever in Albus’ voice and his eyes bored relentlessly, unnervingly into Umbridge’s.

The woman smiled and her eyes sparkled with malevolence.  “I had him write lines.”

Severus eyes blazed and his fury rekindled in between one second and the next as images of Harry’s torn body – of words and phrases gouged into flesh – ran before his mind’s eye.  He had been forced to write those things into his own skin.  If Severus had been capable of taking his eyes from Umbridge to look at Poppy he would have noticed her eyes fill with tears of pain and rage as she realised the truth behind Umbridge’s words and while Severus fairly vibrated in his fury and his efforts not to send Umbridge flying once more, no one thought to stop Poppy as she took two steps forward and backhanded the hateful woman hard across the face.

“You dare speak to me-”

Severus wand once more found its way between Umbridge’s eyes and she once more went cross-eyed trying to keep it in her sights.  “I confess I find myself more surprised at your daring.”

“I have no idea what-”

“Do not dissemble with me woman, both myself and Poppy have seen your handiwork.  And here was me thinking blood quills had been illegalised over two hundred years ago.”

Umbridge blustered for a moment as she fought for a comeback and came up with nothing.  Meanwhile, at the mention of blood quills, Albus’ eyes had become distinctly colder and were now practically spilling over with venomous intent.  Apparently Poppy hadn’t had the chance to fill him in on the words on Harry’s body before the interruption.  With his quietest, most deadly voice that had everyone in the room in no doubt as to why Voldemort should be afraid of him, the Headmaster looked down his crooked nose at Umbridge – managing to make all the adults present feel like they were still students themselves – and murmured, “You used a blood quill on one of the children I placed in your care?”

“No! I-”

“DO NOT LIE TO ME.”

“I didn’t... I...” even now she was clearly trying to justify to them all what she had done, was trying to persuade them to her way of thinking as she resorted to pleading.  It made Severus sick.

“A student, a fifteen year old boy that I allowed you to teach – in defending himself of all things! – and you see fit to use illegal dark artefacts on him in a way he is unable to defend himself from?  You are responsible for his current state?”

“He deserved it, he needed it!”

Everyone watched, frozen in place with eyes wide as Albus took an imposing stride towards Umbridge before stopping abruptly, wizened white hands clenched at his sides.  There was utter silence as he fought valiantly to find his calm, drawn tight as a bowstring and clearly on the verge of breaking, and when Umbridge took that as an opening and drew a breath to speak every window of the hospital wing shattered, flinging tiny shimmering shards of glass into the clear morning air beyond, glittering prettily for all that they would have been deadly to anyone in their path.  Albus remained unmoving, his head bowed and hidden but there was no question as to who had caused the unrestrained – frankly enormous – burst of magic.

At the noise Severus noticed Harry stir.  As Albus was wandlessly, wordlessly hovering the shattered glass back into their jagged jigsaw where the cracks flowed seamlessly out of existence while keeping his eyes on Umbridge lest she make a move to do or say anything; Harry pulled himself up, noticeably gritting his teeth against the pain he had to have been feeling as he braced himself on his extended arms.  His eyes, Severus saw, looked dull and rather dead, the way a victim of a long sickness might look once they’d given up, and they flicked around the room somewhat disinterestedly, taking everything in as though he was surrounded by inanimate objects as opposed to several arguing professors, as though he was distanced from it all in some fundamental way; as though he wasn’t really there anymore.  His eyes didn’t linger on anything in particular and Severus felt the renewed stirrings of alarm about his mental state when those eyes passed over his own without any kind of recognition.  Severus had to trust that Albus had Umbridge well in hand because he’d meant what he’d decided hours before.  Harry had to come first.

Unsure of what to say and finding himself irritated at how adrift he was, Severus found that he couldn’t help years of practise and what should have been a solicitous inquiry came out sounding almost like a demand.

“Mr Potter?” 

Several things happened rather quickly at that and Severus was dismayed that throughout it all Harry’s blank expression didn’t change once.  Severus had very little time to take note of Harry’s empty stare before Umbridge took notice of the newly awake boy and her eyes flashed with, of all things, triumph.

Umbridge’s eyes swivelled until they locked on Harry, flashing malevolently though Dumbledore, after the swiftest of assessing glances at Harry, kept his on Umbridge.  Poppy spun and was at Harry’s side before anyone else could move and Minerva couldn’t seem to decide whether to hug Harry or attack Umbridge.  Severus remained still and watchful.  Even though his desire to do something as embarrassing as Minerva wanted to do was warring with his good sense, he couldn’t stop himself from crossing the room with carefully measured steps to stand beside the bed Harry was in. 

He’d thought that from a distance it wasn’t unreasonable that Harry should look so very small sitting amongst – swimming in – his blankets and sheets, but once he stood beside the bed he was incensed to see that from where he now stood very little had changed except that Harry looked that much smaller than himself.  So impossibly young, so breakable.  But no one so young could wear such a blank face.  And Severus was incensed – surely not concerned, not worried, not anxious and wrung out and unnerved – because the cause for that blank look and that dead stare was across the room staring back in satisfaction and Severus wanted to rip her face off with his bare hands and glory in the blood and gore and pain and justice of it.

Unfortunately he doubted that Albus would allow that despite his own formidable show of power and rage and so Severus simply stood beside the bed and glared fiercely across the room at Umbridge, making his stance perfectly clear.  Harry was under Severus’ protection and no one would hurt him again.  Not while he was there to stop it and he wasn’t going anywhere.