The boy sat in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, reading a potions journal from the coffee table. His foot tapped out the rhythm of a tune only he could hear. It was late afternoon and he was waiting for the professor to return to his quarters. He looked up expectantly as the door opened, letting out a small sigh a moment later.

Potter. Try as he might, he never could quite make himself forget the other boy was staying in his godfather's quarters. Granted, the man probably had little say in the matter, as the headmaster was no doubt the one who set up the arrangement. All because the precious Boy-Who-Lived couldn't keep himself out of trouble. Anyone else would have been suspended or expelled, but not Potter. Instead, he gets forced upon a decent man like Professor Snape.

If the boy were to be honest, he would have had to admit to feeling jealous that his rival was permitted to stay in the Potions Master's quarters. He, himself, had specifically requested to do the same upon his arrival at Hogwarts and had been denied. The Malfoy scion was not greatly inclined towards honesty, however, particularly if it might cast him a bad light.

"Well, if it isn't Potter," Draco drawled, placing an ugly emphasis on the other teen's name. He rose from his seat, tossing the magazine aside. "Then again, I don't suppose there are many of us bold enough to so rudely intrude upon the lives of others. See, unlike you, Potter, I happen to be welcome here. Professor Snape's my godfather, you know, and he's told me I can come and go as I please."

"Whatever, Malfoy," Harry murmured disinterestedly, moving past the blond. He'd seen the Slytherin in the quarters a few times before, but never when the professor was out.

"What? Not even going to utter a word of protest, Potter?" Malfoy taunted, following him down the short hallway. Why couldn't he get a reaction out of this stupid Gryffindor?

"Not now, Malfoy," the dark-haired boy groaned, entering his room listlessly, not even bothering to close his door. He felt exhausted and just wanted to sleep. Again, Malfoy attempted to follow him, but was stopped by an invisible barrier at the threshold. "Oh, yeah," Harry added, "you can't come in unless I invite you."

"Dumbledore's idea, no doubt," Draco snarled from the doorway, jealously taking in the room.

"Snape's, actually," Harry corrected. He dropped his book bag onto the floor, before sprawling on his bed atop the covers. His eyes drifted shut.

"Hey!" the blond exclaimed. "I am not finished... Unbelievable." He shook his head disparagingly, returning to the living room to wait for the professor.

The man returned a short time later, allowing the boy to join him in his lab. It was only two weeks into the term and Snape was already a bit behind in replenishing the stores for the hospital wing. He knew that Draco would be more than willing to lend a helping hand in exchange for spending time with him. Sometimes, he wondered what the boy saw in him but supposed that it was likely connected to being his godfather.

They work efficiently for several minutes, Severus only half-listening to the boy's inane chatter until he said, "Potter's been acting strange, hasn't he?"

"Oh?" Snape prompted, raising an inquiring brow.

"He has!" Draco declared. "I haven't been able to get a proper response out of him all week, no matter what I say. It's almost like he's ignoring me, only he's never been so good at it before."

"I thought you were told not to cause mischief this year."

"I wasn't trying to cause mischief, Uncle Sev," the boy back-pedaled. "Just a bit of friendly rivalry. I only wanted to trade a few barbs. It's not as if Vince and Greg are witty enough to banter."

Were it any other time, the professor might have reflected on how Draco's perception of his rivalry with Harry was apparently less malicious than he'd suspected. At the moment, however, he was a bit preoccupied with his charge's seemingly odd behavior.

"So, you haven't been able to raise Mr. Potter's ire."

"Not a bit. He hardly spared me a look just before you arrived. Went straight to his room and fell asleep. Didn't even close his door," Draco complained. "It was rather rude, actually. He really ought –"

"He's sleeping?" Snape asked sharply.

"Well, yes. He's a bit old for naps, I think, but..."

"Wait here." If there was one thing that alerted Draco to something being off, it was his godfather telling him to remain in his lab unsupervised. Naturally, he had to follow the man.

Severus walked quickly across the living room and down the short corridor, striding through Harry's open door less than a minute later. "Potter!" he spoke loudly. The boy didn't rouse. He moved to the boy's bedside, placing a hand to his forehead.

Instead of a fever, as the Potions Master had suspected, Harry's skin was cold to the touch. A quick diagnostic spell verified that his body temperature was lower than it should be, yet the boy wasn't even shivering. Snape quickly felt for a pulse, relieved to find one, sluggish, but present.

"Potter," the professor addressed the boy, shaking him by the shoulder. "Potter. You need to wake up. Harry." He pinched the teen's upper arm, finally succeeding in rousing him.

"M' tire," Harry whined, weakly attempting to pull away from the hands that were prodding him awake. "Wan' sleep."

"Harry, I need you to tell me how long you've been feeling like this," Severus told him, trying to lure the boy further into consciousness by requiring him to speak. He drew the blankets out from under the teen and put them over top of him, placing a warming charm on them.

"Dun... nn," slurred the hypothermic boy, "sinn yest..?" The Potions Master shook him roughly when he started to drift off again.

"When did you notice Mr. Potter was behaving differently?" he demanded.

Draco, who was watching from the doorway, started in surprise. "Tuesday, sir. Maybe, Monday," he replied.

"Just inside the door of my lab in the cupboard is a small caddy of potions," Snape directed. "I need you to get it and bring it here, please."

"Yes, sir," Draco immediately hastened to obey.

"Stay awake," his godfather was ordering when he returned, smacking Potter's cheek quite soundly. "You may enter, Draco." Sometimes, it was disconcerting how good the man's ears were. Draco set the caddy of potions on the bedside table, looking on as Severus deftly selected a reddish-gold one with purplish flecks. He wrapped an arm about the Gryffindor's shoulders, raising him upright with apparent ease.

"I need you to drink this, Harry," he commanded, pressing the vial to the boy's lips.

Harry. He called him "Harry," and Harry obeyed.

"Swallow, boy!" Snape scolded, followed shortly by, "Stay awake!"

"Ouch!" Harry protested loudly, and quite clearly, as the professor pinched his arm again. Why couldn't the man just let him sleep?

"He didn't get into trouble, did he?" Draco murmured, staring at his godfather with dawning realization. "Potter's sick. He's staying here so you can help him. The rumor about you is true, isn't it? You were a spy."

Snape sighed, both at the prospect of the conversation that he would no doubt be having with his godson and the fact that Harry was already much more lucid than he had been. "Please fetch Madame Pomfrey, Draco," he said a bit tiredly. "You may use the floo."

Hesitating briefly, Draco gave a sharp nod before doing as he was told. He would definitely be talking to his godfather later.

0o0o0

Having neither been in pain nor feeling ill, Harry had been unaware that he was suffering another effect of the poison. After soundly chastising both Weasley and Granger in his office for their failure to inform him or Madame Pomfrey of their friend's symptoms (though, he was irritated with none more than himself), Snape returned to the hospital wing, where the mediwitch had gotten Harry's temperature back up to where it should be.

The Potions Master approached the curtained off bed. Poppy had already sent Harry's friends away for the day (which is when Snape had taken the opportunity to scold them), leaving him alone in the large room.

Snape briefly rested a palm against the boy's forehead, relieved again by its healthy warmth. Perhaps he had been rather harsh with the other two Gryffindors, but he'd been frightened, dammit! If Draco hadn't said anything, Harry's temperature might have fallen too low to bring back up. The boy could have died that very afternoon and the mere thought of that scared him.

There had to be a means to better monitor Harry's condition without making him feel smothered. After this incident, he'd be having a check up every other day. Still, that didn't seem enough. Perhaps he could charm something that would notify himself and Poppy if there was any measurable change in the boy's health.

Satisfied that he had come up with a useful solution, Severus settled back into a chair. The pepper-up potion for the rest of the little dunderheads could wait. He sat a while, watching Harry sleep, reassuring himself with every breath the sleeping boy took. He was still alive.

0o0o0

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, absently fingering the miniature snitch pendant that hung on a chain around his neck. Snape had given it to him nearly a month and a half before with the order to never take it off. It was charmed to alert him and Madame Pomfrey if he was having any problems. Harry liked the way it looked and that the chain was long enough to tuck under his shirt if he wanted to.

His hand began to shake and he clenched it into a fist to try to stop the tremors. That had started three weeks ago and despite Snape making several adjustments to his antagonist, it hadn't gone away. It tended to be worse later in the day and when he was tired or stressed – the former of which was becoming more and more prevalent. The professor was clearly frustrated by his lack of success in quelling these symptoms, though Harry knew he would never admit it.

"Good morning, Harry!" Hermione greeted cheerfully, sitting down across from him as Ron plopped down at his side. "Did you sleep well?" She had noticed the trembling of his hand, but having been assured by Professor Snape that there was nothing he could do about it, said nothing.

"Not really," Harry answered honestly.

"Were you sick or something?" Ron asked quietly. This wasn't the first time Harry had had trouble sleeping, lately, and it was nearly always connected to his condition.

Harry shook his head. "My scar was hurting," he replied in an equally quiet voice.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, her expression sympathetic. "Did you tell –"

"Yes," the boy cut her off. "I'm to inform him if I have 'any further symptoms.'" They fell quiet for a moment.

"Were you going to eat anything, mate?" Ron changed the subject, piling eggs onto his own plate.

"I'm not hungry."

"Harry, you really ought to eat something."

"Hermione, I'm really not the least bit hungry," Harry replied, mimicking the girl's tone.

"But –"

"Fine!" The dark-haired boy snatched up a piece of toast and took a large bite out of it. "Happy?" Hermione gave him a reproving frown, but didn't press the issue.

"So, what do you suppose today's task is?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "Something to do with water."

"How do you know?"

"Because the whole school's going down to the lake to watch," Hermione answered dryly.

"Oh. Right," Ron blushed. "That makes sense. Maybe each of the champions will have to wrestle the giant squid."

"I just hope it doesn't end like the last task," Harry murmured. The three friends grew solemn, each remembering the incident with the Chinese Fireball.

"Perhaps you should've stayed in bed, mate."

Harry laughed, not because Ron's statement was funny, but because he wholeheartedly agreed: some days, it was better to just stay in bed.

0o0o0

Spectators murmured in excitement. The three champions had just set off to rescue their respective hostages from the merfolk who lived in the lake. Everyone was looking on, avidly listening to the commentary made by Ludo Bagman.

Everyone except Harry, that is, who was finding it rather difficult to pay much attention to anything beyond the buzzing inside his skull. When the noise rose to a head-splitting whine, he decided to leave. Hopefully, getting away from the crowd would help lessen the racket. Ron, who was seated beside Harry, hadn't noticed the other boy had left until he turned to make a comment. Spotting his friend's messy black head moving up the steps and towards the exit at the back of the stands, the redhead nudged Hermione and the two of them started after him.

Potter was nearly to the top of the stairs. A bit further and he'd be able to exit, removing himself from the view of any spectators. The little nuisance was rarely by himself and never so conveniently. Such an opportunity could not be passed up. He got up to follow.

Severus jerked his head around as the alert from Harry's pendent went off, trying to locate the boy amidst the sea of spectators. A short distance from him, Poppy was doing the same. He saw the boy first, however, and quickly made his way towards him.

Before any of his pursuers could reach him, however, Harry suddenly dropped to the floor of the final landing before the exit. Ron and Hermione ran up the remaining stairs as those nearest the fallen teen crowded around him.

"He's fainted."

"Is he alright?"

"Isn't that Harry Potter?"

"Harry!" Hermione called, as she attempted to push her way through the crowd.

"It's Harry Potter!"

"Why do you suppose he fainted?"

"Out of the way!" a gruff voice commanded. "Move aside!" The students obediently parted, allowing Professor Moody to move to their schoolmate's side.

"I'll take him from here," Madame Pomfrey announced as she arrived at the scene seconds later. "Everyone, return to your seats!" She cast a hover charm on Harry, levitating him in front of her on the way to the infirmary.

The former death eater looked on, seething internally. Thwarted again.