When Harry woke up the next day, he immediately noticed he was not in Gryffindor Tower. In fact, he had no idea where he was. The entire décor of the room seemed strange as if it didn’t belong at Hogwarts. He quickly tried to roll over, but found himself curling up into a ball as a pain rippled throughout every nerve in his body. He couldn’t hold back his pain-filled cries of agony.

“Easy,” a soft voice whispered seconds later.

“Hurts,” Harry moaned back.

“I don’t doubt that,” the voice replied. “His temperature is still rising. Can you give it to him now? I don’t know how much longer he can last like this.”

 

“Sit him up,” another voice commanded.

 

Harry then felt a rough hand try to open his mouth. He tried to fight against it, but quickly gave in. It just was easier to rather than fighting. A strong smell made him gag slightly before he felt someone pour hot liquid into his mouth. Within seconds, the hand firmly clamped his mouth shut again. It didn’t take long before Harry swallowed the nasty liquid. He felt the warmth quickly spread throughout him. He hadn’t noticed how cold he had felt before now.

 

“Well?” the second voice asked.

 

“No change. I don’t understand. It should have worked, shouldn’t it?”

 

“Not necessarily. However, it does give us some insight into what we are dealing with. It is not just a mere virus as you had stated, Poppy.”

 

“It’s not?” the soft voice responded. Harry now knew that the voice belonged to Poppy Pomfrey, Hogwart’s medi-witch. “Well, what else could it be? I mean, the poor boy’s temperature is so high that he’s hallucinating, and fevers usually mean a virus or disease of some kind.”

 

“Yes, it usually means one of those, but poison could also be a likely choice. In fact, a number of different poisons could cause these same symptoms. However, none of this speculation matters if we do not find a way to treat him, am I correct?”

 

“Well, let’s try a bezoar then.”

 

“And if that does not work, would you have me brew an incomplete cure of all poisons for the boy then?”

 

Harry groaned loudly again. The second voice had to belong to Snape. No one else in the castle had that much hatred in his voice for him, not even Malfoy. He then curled even tighter as another painful jolt shot throughout him. He was going to die. He knew it.

 

“Yes, well, thank you for that lovely vote of confidence, Potter. It’s so absolutely thrilling to hear that sentiment from your lips,” Snape’s voice sneered a few seconds later. When Snape spoke again, he was closer to Harry. In fact, he whispered into Harry’s ear, “You must learn to trust me, Potter. I am not trying to kill you because if I were, you’d already be dead.” The warm air against his ear was then gone. “Push his sleeves up, Poppy.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because the boy obviously wants to die and seeing as how he believes me to be the one to kill him I’m going to fulfill his desire,” Snape drawled. “Why do you think, Pomfrey?” he growled.

 

“Severus, you can’t!”

 

“Why the hell not!” snapped Snape. “Nothing else is working, Poppy. Now, unless you have a better idea…”

 

Harry felt his sleeves gently pushed up one by one. He groaned again. Even the slight incidental touch made him feel as if someone was pushing hot needles through his skin.

 

“Scream if you must, Potter, for I truly do not care.”

 

Exactly two seconds later, Harry was screaming with all his might as he felt a knife slice open his arms from his wrist to his elbow. He wriggled in pure agony from the sheer excruciating pain. This was exactly why he hated Severus Snape. The man was a goddamn bastard. Just as he was starting to concede to his fate, he felt two strong hands latch onto both of his forearms holding them down. His eyes flew open and he glared towards the older wizard.

 

“Let…go…” Harry said weakly.

 

“Shut up, Potter,” Snape replied angrily, “before I regret this foolish decision to save your pathetic life.” Harry tried to yank his arms free, but Snape only held them tighter. “Knock it off, Potter. You’re fine.”

 

“Let go!” Harry repeated.

 

“Not yet.” Yet again, Snape’s hold tightened around Harry’s small arms.

 

Harry glared at Snape as he tried to struggle against the wizard’s old. However, Snape absolutely refused to release him. Harry then felt a strange power coursing through his veins. He couldn’t explain what it was, but he knew it would be strong enough to make the bloody bat release him.

 

“LET GO!” Harry yelled. He instantly felt the power surge forth towards where Snape’s hands were. He didn’t think anything of it. He only reacted on pure instinct. Watching in pure terror, Harry saw Snape’s face instantly whiten before the older wizard started to gasp for air. “What…what do I…Snape, what do I do?” Harry asked panicking.

 

“Look…look at me!” replied Snape through raspy breaths.

 

As soon as Harry locked eyes with Snape, he felt the darkness settle in. He didn’t fight it. For the first time since meeting the potions professor, Harry blindly trusted Snape. After all, he was killing the man unintentionally. It was the least Harry could do.

---

A few seconds later, Harry found himself in a dark room. He was entirely confused now. He wasn’t sure if this was real or another hallucination, which was what he guessed was the Astronomy Tower conversation. He whirled around to glance about his surroundings when he noticed Snape standing next to him. The man looked positively livid. However, the strange thing was the older wizard didn’t direct his piercing gaze on Harry. It was as if he was glaring through Harry.

 

“Sir?” said Harry.

 

“Severus, how nice of you to join us,” a voice hissed from the surrounding darkness. “I must admit that I had just wanted this conversation to be between Harry and myself, but I will permit your stay here. After all, it is time I rewarded you. Isn’t it, my most faithful servant?”