Severus crouched behind the distraught teenaged boy, reaching his hand around in front of him to curve his palm against the child’s forehead.  Potter was still burning hot… perhaps just a little improved from before the boy had been dosed with the Muggle aspirin… but the fever continued to be high enough to be of considerable concern.  And as the child had just vomited up the bulk of the medicine Severus had administered to the bare ground (both aspirin and Pepper-up the Potion’s Master imagined), the dark man determined the boy’s condition was not likely to improve any further now. 

“Pull yourself together, Potter,” he said, not allowing any of his inner turmoil to become outwardly obvious… but he couldn’t help adding a reassuring comment after a slight pause, “… it is not the end of the world.” 

The comment, although his conscious mind had fought the sentiment bitterly, had been made with entire sincerity and the advice he offered, which had been acquired as a result of a painful set of experiences from Severus’ own childhood and teenage years, he had meant to be supportive… but unfortunately the man’s aloof tone undermined his good intent. 

“Yeah…?” snapped Harry, in distressed bitterness, “and how would you know!?”  It had been embarrassing enough that Snape had witnessed first hand just how lowly he was regarded at home, but now the sneering man was ridiculing him; he apparently couldn’t wait to comment about Harry’s moment of weakness. 

Severus bristled at the boy’s hostile tone, “I just do!” he snarled in return, snatching back his hand from the boy’s forehead, “Get up, boy… Madam Pomfrey will need to see to that arm,” he prodded, this time feeling a smug satisfaction at Potter’s flinch from the deliberate use of the epithet. 

Rising to his feet, dragging Potter to a standing position alongside him, he shoved the boy forward, perhaps a little too roughly in his irritation, with the hand he had gripped around the teen’s upper left arm.  They set off together at a brisk pace along the lane, though Severus was forced to slow down several strides later to accommodate the unsteady gait of the ailing teenager.  Nevertheless, he kept the boy moving along in a relentless momentum.  

The two wizards approached the large iron gates of Hogwarts where Severus dealt with the locks and chains for the third time that evening.  The remainder of the hike along the path to the great wooden entrance doors was made in awkward yet enduring silence… but Severus didn’t care; it was better than talking to the brat! Harry didn’t speak quite simply because he was focused too firmly on merely trying to remain upright! 

By the time Professor Snape had invoked the huge oak doors to swing open; Harry was feeling particularly light-headed again… nearly as bad as he had felt before he had blacked out earlier outside Mrs Figg’s house.  He was then dragged through the doorway by Snape’s firm grip on his good upper arm and stood contemplating the seemingly endless staircase before him when Snape turned back to the doors briefly to secure them with his wand.  Harry knew immediately that he would not be able to make it up the several flights of stairs that led to the floor which housed the infirmary… even with the impatient, prodding encouragement of the Potions Master.  Therefore he resisted a little when the dark man pushed him forward again to begin the ascent. 

“I can’t,” he stated simply. 

Severus glanced in annoyance at the boy in his grasp… but his irritation instantly transformed to concern when he took in the boy’s strained features.  

Harry confirmed his assertion and Severus’ concern when his first step forward had his knees buckling dangerously. 

Severus threw himself forward and caught the swaying boy, lowering him to the flagstone floor of the Entrance Hall in a more controlled fashion. 

“Don’t move, I’ll conjure a stretcher,” Snape offered flicking his wand once more; in what Harry considered an unusually accommodating gesture considering the almost hostile demeanour of the man only moments ago when he had quite roughly shoved Harry all the way along the entrance path.  He couldn’t quite figure out the Professor today… his moods and attitude had seemed to blow first hot then cold all evening. 

Severus settled the teen onto the created stretcher and proceeded to direct the apparatus up the marble stairs ahead of him.   

Harry relaxed back against the gently swinging canvas support, relieved to finally be allowed to give in to the fatigue and wooziness that was gradually swallowing him whole.  His eyes closed almost involuntarily, but Snape spoke sharply at him a moment later; startling him back away from the welcoming blackness. 

“Try to remain alert, Potter… don’t allow yourself to fall asleep!”   

Harry snapped his eyes open immediately and grunted an agreement of sorts before his eyes began to slide shut once more; he fought hard to obey for a while, but it was only a matter of time before the heavy lids won out over his will. 

Severus was troubled at the boy’s diminished reflexes – as contrary to Harry’s perception it had taken several moments for him to re-open his eyes after the dark man had snapped the anxious command to him.  After a few moments observing Potter fighting to obey Severus’ command and eventually losing, the dark man internally reprimanded himself for not getting the boy to help sooner. 

‘The Headmaster is going to flay me if he ever discovers I had been wholly too interested in exacting a petty substitute revenge instead of ensuring the reputed ‘chosen one’ was delivered the attention and treatment he sorely needed,’ he thought gravely, vague spots of colour appearing high on his cheeks. 

When they came to the third floor and the large double doors of the Hospital Wing, Severus used his wand to release the lock with a loud click, and then guided the stretcher to rest atop the bed closest to the medical store room. 

“Poppy!” he called in an urgent tone, but the woman did not appear from her office.  It had been a long shot that she was currently in residence anyway, he realised; being the middle of the summer holidays, after all.  But one person who was guaranteed not to have temporarily moved out of the castle could certainly help. 

Severus stalked over to Madam Pomfrey’s office door and chanted, “Alohomora!”  The small door swung open a little with a tiny squeak and Severus wasted no time; pushing the entrance wide enough to permit his tall frame to enter.  He strode to the large fireplace located on the far wall, gathered an amount of floo powder in his fist from a specially made vessel on the mantle and called aloud the floo address of the man he needed to contact urgently. 

“Headmaster’s office!” he said, kneeling on one knee and leaning forward to bury his head in the green flames.  “Albus!” 

Predictably and reliably the Headmaster was sitting working at his large ornate desk to the left of the fireplace.  Severus could see the old wizard’s pensieve situated directly in front of the man… indicating that he was working on something involving memories; and although the site intrigued the Potions Master he did not let it distract him from the reason for his intrusion. 

“Yes, my boy… what on earth are you doing here?  Is there a problem?” 

“I would say there is, yes… please, would you come through to the infirmiry?” 

After a moment of silence where the Headmaster studied Severus’ anxious expression he answered, ‘Yes, of course… I’ll come through this instant.” 

Severus withdrew from the floo immediately, awaiting the Headmaster’s arrival with growing impatience despite the fact that the man stepped from the floo less than twenty-five seconds from when Severus initially requested his presence. 

“Severus, what is it… you are hurt?” he asked, giving his Potions Master the once over with measuring eyes, narrowing them in concern at what they discovered; Severus tracked Dumbledore’s gaze to his own hands where remnants of Potter’s blood still flecked his pale skin. 

“No!” he denied, shaking his head, “No, I’m fine… it is not mine,” he explained, lifting his hand and rolling it over so that he may demonstrate the lack of injury.  

Not knowing where to begin the tale Severus began to usher the old man into the outer room instead. 

“This way… I’ve brought Potter… I was hoping Poppy would be here,” he half explained, but only served to raise the Headmaster’s concern even further. 

“Harry!?  Harry’s here… and he needs Poppy?  Why, what’s wrong, what happened?!” he asked anxiously, his sudden increased pace heading for the ward defying his apparent age. 

Severus hurried after the much older man with long strides elucidating as he went.  “Potter has sustained a deep cut to his upper arm… he has an infection… I-I was unable to treat it myself… I am unfamiliar with the incantation,” he stammered, feeling quite inadequate next to the wizened wizard. 

The Headmaster placated him at once, “It’s alright, Severus, I take for granted that you have done your best.”  

Dumbledore reached Harry quickly and the same measuring eyes that had just assessed Severus swept over the boy; his forehead again creasing with concern.  Long, aged fingers reached out to test the teenager’s pulse at his neck and after satisfying himself that the child was stable, he assured an apparently anxious Potions Professor of his findings. 

“Harry is alright for the moment, Severus, though he does indeed need expert care as soon as possible,” he said, nodding his head approvingly at the dark man, “You’ve done well,” the praise both serving to soothe Severus’ anxiety for the boy’s health, but heightening the guilt he felt over the unnecessary detour to Privet Drive.  The Headmaster then moved his palm to cup over the boy’s forehead. 

“He’s very warm… you’ve administered nothing?” Dumbledore inquired of Severus. 

“Only Muggle aspirin and a dose of Pepper-up, those were the only remedies I was able to acquire immediately… though he has subsequently sicked up the bulk of the doses, so I don’t suppose either remedy would be in effect any longer.”  There was a short pause before Severus added, “I believe Potter would benefit from a dose of Blood Replenishing potion… I fear that he may have lost a considerable amount.” 

Dumbledore considered the suggestion for a moment, gazing at the unconscious boy.  “Yes, I think that would be acceptable.  Go ahead, Severus… find what you require in the hospital stores, I am going to try to get a hold of Poppy… I am of the belief she was holidaying with her sister and brother-in-law in Cornwall.”  With that the old wizard retreated from the room, leaving Severus to locate and administer the proposed Blood-Replenisher. 

Severus gazed at the unmoving teenager for a short while, feeling a shiver track down his spine.  It unnerved him that the boy was so still… this was his life’s devotion lying so sedately upon the hospital bed.  He suddenly blinked himself out of the sentimental musing and entered the store room to locate the correct potion. 

The dark man selected the correct concoction from the shelf and a measuring cup from near the back of the room, but on his way out he decided to take a blue, labelled bottle along with him and a washcloth from a large pile of clean, folded linen by the door. 

He approached the teen’s bed and set his pickings upon the bedside table; turning to the unconscious boy. 

“Potter?” he inquired with a gentle shake to the teen’s shoulder, seeing if he could elicit a response from the boy.  When he got none he proceeded to contemplate how he should dose the boy with the brew considering his unconscious state and the child’s need for rest.   

It had been obvious that Potter was exhausted from his ordeal and his poor condition was indeed taking its toll… and Severus ashamedly acknowledged his own part in prolonging it.  Yes, he really should let the boy rest, at least until Poppy arrived, at any rate.   

Not to mention the boy’s apparently sensitive stomach at present… it would be pointless to administer the medicine orally if the child were to only sick it up again; and as a first rate Potions Master, Severus knew he had options for administering this particular remedy… options he firmly decided to take advantage of in this instance.  The fact that he was happy to avoid talking to the brat, well, that was just an added bonus he told himself. 

He took up the bottle of Blood-Replenisher and measured out the minimum dose – Poppy may very well give him another when she arrived, but as a novice healer Severus did not dare risk further complications – and with his wand he dispersed the minute particles of the potion into the air and guided the mass to hover at Potter’s mouth and nose; the boy aspirated the treatment into his system with each breath he took without being disturbed from his sleep. 

Severus sighed with a small amount of relief, continuing to monitor Potter for any signs of adverse reactions.  He glanced uncertainly at the blue bottle he had brought from the store room.  The label read “Fever-Reducer” and as tempted as he had been when he’d spied the potion on the shelves of Poppy’s stores to dose Potter with this also, Severus now felt hesitant to risk his admittedly deficient knowledge of healing practices; a deficiency that definitely did not sit comfortably with the renowned Potions Master, and of which he planned to rectify as soon as time permitted. 

He turned his attention back to the prone boy; his face was flushed with fever, a sight that again tempted the dark man to use the concoction in the blue bottle to ease the boy’s distress, but no, Poppy hopefully would not be long and waiting for her expertise would be a far more sensible gamble.  Instead Severus took up the washcloth and dampened it with a cold stream of water from his wand.  Turning back to Potter he hesitated once again… he just looked so much like his damned arrogant father! 

Quickly Severus snatched the hated round glasses off the boy’s face, placing them on the nightstand… at least this way he could almost see features that belonged to… Lily… 

Hastily trying to dismiss his last train of thought Severus reached forward and began dabbing the cooling cloth over the burning brow and flushed cheeks in an effort to relieve the spiking temperature in the boy; telling himself firmly that he was only doing what was required of him in his promise to Dumbledore to help protect the boy! 

Potter moaned softly as the cold cloth against his face jarred him from deep sleep, he attempted to roll his head away from the insistent dabbing. 

“Easy, Potter,” Severus said, again struck by the unusual urge to be comforting, “you are too hot… this will help,” he then found himself explaining unnecessarily; continuing the methodical swabbing of the flushed features, occasionally refreshing the cold compress. 

At the sound of the deep, rumbling voice that seemed soothing and reassuring Harry soon settled again, taking a minimalistic pleasure in the coolness pressed gently against his burning skin.  He was soon able to sink back into a deep sleep because of the sense of safety and care wrapping its calming tendrils around him... lulling him to relax. 

That was the way Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey found them several minutes later; Severus mopping the brow of the sleeping teenaged boy, staring off into space in deep reflection.  The dark man appeared not to have heard the arrival via floo of two of the senior members of Hogwarts’ staff. 

Albus held a halting hand up to his colleague at the sight of his Potions Masters uncharacteristic, gentle attentiveness toward Harry Potter; his brow furrowing slightly as his mind worked through what he was seeing.  But a moment later the Headmaster motioned the Matron past him to attend to Mr Potter. 

“Severus?” he called softly and he observed the normally guarded man suddenly snatch his hand back to his side after becoming aware of the arrival of witnesses. 

Severus stepped away from Potter’s hospital bed immediately, allowing the Mediwitch plenty of room to work her healing magic.  He tried to retreat into the office, but Poppy called him back. 

“Albus said you administered Muggle aspirin and Pepper-up before you got here, Severus?” the woman asked. 

“Yes,” confirmed Severus with a nod. 

“What doses?” 

“Just the regular dose of Pepper-up for a child his age, and three aspirin… for the fever,” he answered; the dark man feeling the need to explain.  “Though he vomited up the bulk of what I gave him, as I told Albus,” he added. 

Pomfrey nodded in confirmation and understanding.  “And just now you managed to administer the Blood-Replenisher, Severus?” she asked enquiringly. The Matron turned back to the Potter teen, carrying out a speedy medical once over of the boy, her observant eyes travelling quickly over the nightstand next to the bed. 

He nodded, “Yes, about ten minutes ago, the minimum dose only.  I was not sure if he could tolerate more… his actual blood loss is largely deduction on my part,” Severus clarified; explaining his reasoning. 

There was a conspicuous, silent pause where Madam Pomfrey neither acknowledged Severus’ response nor proceeded her interrogation, but then she abruptly turned to face him with wide eyes. 

“Professor Snape… you didn’t give him the Fever-Reducer, did you?!” she asked in an alarmed tone, indicating the blue bottle on the nightstand. 

Albus also gave him a pointed look. 

He shook his head, “No… no,” he repeated, feeling slightly alarmed himself at the possible calamity implied. 

“Are you sure?!” the Matron demanded quite indecorously, “Why is it out then?  This mixed with the Pepper-up and Blood-Replenisher has the potential to kill him in the state he is now!” 

Severus swallowed; insulted greatly by the woman’s tone and implied accusation of his failure to be honest, yet embarrassed and suitably horrified by the fact that he had very almost made the most spectacular of errors. 

“W-What!?” he stammered, feeling suddenly out of breath. 

“You of all people should know this, Severus… with your expertise in potions!  The ingredients alone should spark an alarm of sorts with you!” Poppy admonished him sharply. 

Severus was momentarily speechless.   

‘The ingredients…?’ he wondered to himself, and then it came to him.  Merlin… he had almost caused the boy heart damage!  He ran his fingers roughly back through his shoulder length hair; fighting the urge to grip the dark strands in a fist and pull hard… how he had been so idiotic not to have thought of it!?  Nevertheless he quickly forced himself to respond. 

“I have not even opened that bottle!” he insisted, even managing a suitably affronted tone; his Slytherin instincts of self-preservation kicking in.  

But Albus had seen the signs of Severus’ insecurity and horror flicker across his face and came to his rescue. 

“Now, now, Poppy… I believe Severus has already answered your question honestly and as there has been no harm done I see little sense in dragging out an argument,” he said, attempting to pacify the ruffled Mediwitch.   

“Now, I shall leave Harry in your capable hands for the moment; I need to have a word with Professor Snape as to how Mr Potter ended up in this state to begin with.  Do be sure to inform me of any changes in the boy’s condition, Severus and I shall be in my office.” 

Poppy’s glare left Severus as she responded to the Headmaster’s request.  “Of course, Albus,” she assured, a little disgruntled at not being allowed let loose on the usually aloof man she had often wished to berate on behalf of the students (Gryffindors mostly).  But she did allow a barely watered down glare to rake back over the Potions Professor before settling her attentions once more upon the ill and injured teenager. 

“Come, my boy.”  Albus took a few steps to gently grasp an apparently still somewhat shaken Potions Master by the elbow and led him through Poppy’s office door and over to her floo, taking the liberty of tossing in the floo powder on the man’s behalf.   

“After you, Severus,” ushered Dumbledore with a gracious sweep of his hand, surreptitiously studying the rather paler than usual man as he stepped into the green flames and disappeared from sight.  Albus followed him through only moments later after casting one last glance back at the Matron leaning attentively over a curiously injured Harry Potter.