Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of the affiliated books, movies, characters, etc. do not belong to me. They belong to J.K. Rowling. Just having some fun with a few ideas.

“Don’t forget to add the lacewing flies before removing your potions from the heat,” Snape’s voice droned as he swept between the tables of frantically stirring students. He stopped in front of Neville Longbottom and stared down his hooked nose into the cauldron, which was a murky green color.

“Longbottom, your potion is meant to be a deep purple shade at this stage. Tell me, what color is yours?” Snape questioned in a bored tone.

“G-green, sir.” Neville’s voice quavered, and he kept his eyes on the table.

“Ah, so your sight is not failing you. Then did you not read that only a drop of leech juice would suffice? It looks as though you have dropped your whole bottle in.” Snape sneered as he turned away, then muttered “Evanesco” over his shoulder and Neville’s potion disappeared.

“Hey! At least give him a chance, he might have been able to fix it!” Ron Weasley exclaimed from the next table over.

“Ron, leave it be, there’s only two more days until the Christmas holidays, you don’t want to spend your last nights in detention!” Harry Potter whispered fiercely to his best mate, glancing over as he stirred his potion feverishly.

“Potter.” Snape’s voice snapped out from just behind him. “You may want to focus on your own potion, yours looks rather off-color as well.”

Harry startled, and some of his potion slopped onto his arms, sinking into the skin of his forearms where he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes.

Snape rolled his eyes and sighed, “You had better go to the hospital wing then, I’m not even sure where you went wrong on this one, but it’s sure to have some nasty effects.”

Harry nodded mutely and started shoving his books into his bag, then stared at his hands as they suddenly stopped moving towards his bag and began slowly inching around his sides and towards his back.

“Professor?” he called out in a somewhat shaky voice, “What’s--”

He gasped as his hands and forearms suddenly sprang together, clasped behind his back, and his book fell to the floor with a thud. It was as though invisible ropes were binding his arms from elbows to interlocked fingers. He stared, dumbfounded, at the remains of his potion.

“Evanesco!” Snape vanished his potion immediately, then barked out, “Hospital wing! Now, Potter!”

The rest of the class stared as Harry trotted awkwardly towards the closed door and paused in front of it. He was almost hit by it as it swung open with a flick of Snape’s wand, but he twisted away from it and half-fell out into the corridor, stumbling down the hallway as he sought to regain his footing.

“Class dismissed. Return to your dormitories until the dinner bell.” With one last “Evanesco” towards the remaining potions, Snape strode out the door after Harry.

xxXxx

Snape entered the hospital wing as Harry was struggling to climb onto a hospital bed, attempting and failing to swing one leg over the high railings.

“Potter! What in the world are you doing?” he snapped out. “Did you speak to Madam Pomfrey?”

“She was-- I said-- She said she’d be out in a minute and to sit on a bed,” Harry stuttered, looking down at his feet and blushing.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Sit, Potter,” he ordered, then summoned a chair so it zoomed over behind Harry and swept him off his feet. Harry collapsed into it, falling awkwardly so that he was tilted onto his side with his face pressed into the arm of the chair. He flailed his legs a bit and eventually managed to right himself, glaring up at Snape, who was scowling and standing over him with his arms crossed.

“Fortunately for you, Mr. Potter, I am aware of what potion you so idiotically concocted today, and it is not very long-lasting,” Snape began.

“So you can fix it?” Harry interrupted, smiling hopefully. “Only, it’s a bit uncomfortable…” He trailed off under Snape’s dark stare.

“As I was saying, it is not very long-lasting. There is no known counter currently-- Patience, Potter!” He held up a finger to forestall Harry’s protestations. “There is no known counter, but the effects should not last more than an hour. I will inform Madam Pomfrey of your… condition, and return after dinner to escort you to your detention,” Snape practically purred this last word, “which you will be serving with me for your reckless and thoughtless behavior in the classroom. Don’t. Move. Until the hour is up.” With that, he swept off down the hall, smirking as he heard Harry’s muttered “As if I could.”

xxXxx

When Snape returned to the hospital wing, it was to find Madam Pomfrey hovering over a very irate Potter. Harry was seated in the same chair, and he was shaking his head back and forth as he flailed his legs at Madam Pomfrey, who was trying to hold a little bottle of what Snape recognized as a calming draught to his lips.

“No! I don’t want… Just TELL me how much longer!” Harry was mumbling loudly through lips pressed firmly together, his voice rising in his panic. He began to jerk in earnest when he caught sight of Snape. “No! You said an hour! Dinner’s not over, is it?!” Harry shouted.

Rolling his eyes, Snape moved swiftly over to the pair, reached over Madam Pomfrey’s arms, and pinched Harry’s nose closed with his thumb and index finger. Harry’s eyes widened and his kicking became wild, but Snape held on until Harry finally opened his mouth, then Madam Pomfrey dumped the contents of the vial into his mouth and massaged his throat until he swallowed. When they released him, Harry slumped back, gasping, his eyes beginning to droop slightly as the potion kicked in.

“Please, sir. It’s starting to hurt. I can’t get my elbows apart,” Harry pleaded, a sheen of sweat on his brow and his messy locks plastered to his face. He attempted to flick his bangs out of his eyes with little jerks of his head, but gave up after a few tries.

Snape considered him for a moment, then spoke to Madam Pomfrey, “Poppy, may I speak with you in your office?” Madam Pomfrey nodded and he followed her into the little room, then closed the door and put up a silencing spell.

“Was there any change in his condition while I was gone?” Snape questioned the mediwitch immediately.

“No,” Madam Pomfrey replied, “He just sat in that chair the whole time. He asked for water once, looked awfully embarrassed to have me helping him drink it, the poor dear. He started to get a bit agitated at about twenty minutes past the hour mark, kept asking me how long it had been. I didn’t want to tell him, I was afraid he would panic.”

“Yes, and that worked quite well,” Snape scoffed.

“Severus,” Madam Pomfrey admonished him. “Still, I don’t recognize this potion, are you quite certain it does not last past an hour?”

“Quite.” Snape bit out. “It is called fune ad servendium, and in its known form it was never meant to last past one hour.”

“Fune ad… rope for slaves?”

Snape inclined his head. “Yes. It is a very archaic potion. It was designed to provide a foolproof binding during the transportation of slaves, hence the lack of an antidote or counter. The one-hour time limit was set to allow the slaves to return to work quickly once they arrived; the potion could be re-administered throughout the journey fairly easily if necessary, but waiting for it to wear off would have become tedious, and the existence of a counter would have defeated its purpose.”

“No antidote? But…”

Snape sneered at her. “As I said, it is quite an archaic potion. While it was considered complex and difficult at the time, I am fairly certain that, if it becomes necessary, I could come up with an antidote with a little time.” He sighed heavily, sounding put-out. “Given that his condition has not changed, the bonds do not appear to be weakening at all, my best guess is that he somehow altered it to change the time limit. I will have to ask him exactly what he did to determine if that is, in fact, the issue, and to ascertain how long it will last now.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded. “I’ll go inform Minerva of the situation then, in case it lasts more than a few more hours and he needs to spend the night here. I suppose I’d better tell Albus as well.” She bustled over to the fireplace, throwing in floo powder as Snape exited the office. He returned to where Harry still sat awkwardly in the same chair. He was sprawled out with his back slouched in the chair to allow room for his arms beneath him, his bottom had slipped almost to the edge of the seat and his feet were planted firmly on the ground to keep him from sliding the rest of the way off.

“Potter,” Snape addressed him. Harry’s eyes snapped up to meet his.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on now? I know it’s been more than an hour.” The calming draught had drained away most of Harry’s fear from earlier, and was keeping his anger at bay, but the professor could still detect a slight edge in Harry’s tone.

“You are correct. It has, in fact, been one hour and thirty-five minutes. However, before I give you all of the details, I need you to tell me precisely what you did to make this potion, so that I may determine exactly how to proceed,” Snape ordered, restraining himself from making his tone too biting.

“Does that mean you don’t know what it is?” Harry asked dully.

“No, that means that I believe you may have altered it slightly, and I would like to know exactly how you did so. Now please answer the question,” Snape snapped icily.

So Harry told him, pausing and frowning at various points as he tried to remember every detail he could.

“...and I had just finished stirring it clockwise when, well, you know.” He shifted in his seat, trying to ease the strain in his shoulders. “Now will you tell me what it is? And how to get rid of it? My shoulders are really aching,” Harry asked, trying to keep the whine out of his voice.

Snape sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Only you could have created such a mess out of such a simple potion as an Invigoration Draught,” he muttered. “The potion you ended up brewing is called fune ad servendium. It is an archaic potion that has long since fallen out of use, but it was originally designed to bind slaves during transportation. The potion would essentially shackle or affix together whichever limbs it was dropped on.” He smirked. “Just be grateful it only touched your arms, Potter. The potion was also designed to last no more than an hour so that the slaves could return to work fairly soon after arriving without needing to wait too long for the effects to wear off. However, you, Mr. Potter,” Snape sneered, “Have managed to create a fune ad servendium that, as near as I can tell, has no time limit.”

Harry gaped at him. “But, sir, you can make… there’s an antidote… a countercurse... right?”

Snape pressed his lips into a thin line. “Unfortunately, no, not currently. However, despite its creator’s original intentions, this potion is no longer considered overly complex, simply obscure. I am confident that I will be able to create an antidote relatively quickly. No more than a month, certainly.”

“A month!! But Professor, I can’t… a month? How will I… Please sir…” Harry’s voice trailed off and he shifted painfully, looking distinctly pathetic.

“Relax, Potter. I can see that calming draught is already burning off. I said no more than a month. With the Christmas holidays approaching I should have plenty of time to brew, it may take me as little as three weeks.” Snape smirked at the horrified expression on Harry’s face. “However, in the meantime, I may be able to make you a bit more comfortable. Sit forward, so that I can look at your arms.”

When Harry, after struggling for a moment to comply, began to slide fully off the chair, Snape quickly bent forward to help him. He picked him up around the shoulders as Harry scrambled to get his footing, then rearranged him so that he was sitting further back in the chair and leaning forward to expose his tightly-bound arms.

Snape continued. “I refreshed myself on the theory behind this potion just before coming up here, and if I just…” Snape trailed off as he began tracing complicated patterns with his wand around Harry’s arms, muttering a long string of Latin under his breath. He paused and frowned when nothing seemed to happen, and Harry craned his neck to try to see what was happening as Snape resumed his wand waving and muttering. After the fourth repetition of this, Harry suddenly sighed in relief and his forearms sprang back apart, though his hands remained clasped behind his back with his fingers interlocked tightly.

“Thank you, sir, that’s much better,” Harry said appreciatively, standing up and shaking his arms out a bit. He paused for a moment, considering, then bent down, hopping a bit as he tried to step over his legs.

“Potter, I would not recommend that,” Snape warned him lazily.

Harry ignored his professor, stepping his second leg through the small loop his arms created and grinning up at his professor as he stood straight. He waved his hands above his head, exclaiming, “See! I--” Suddenly his hands sprang apart and whipped back behind him, causing him to gasp as they snapped together painfully. Then his locked hands were drawn towards the ground until he was kneeling and his hands were touching his feet. He whimpered for a moment and looked up at Snape with fear-filled eyes, then relaxed as he was released from the ground, the whole experience having lasted no more than fifteen seconds. Harry got shakily back to his feet, planting his feet carefully to avoid tipping over.

“Next time,” Snape smirked, “perhaps you will listen to me. The potion was designed for slaves, do you not imagine that certain punishments for thwarting its purpose would be built in to its design? Fortunately, this time at least, you appear to have tripped one only meant to scare the slaves into… submission, for a moment.”

Harry hung his head. “I just thought I could get my arms around to the front, they aren’t much good to me back there, really.” He shrugged.

“Yes indeed, the potion was, after all, designed to restrain slaves. Now, if you will stop foolishly bulling your way through for a moment, I will explain certain aspects of the potion so that you will know what to expect.”

Just then, the door to the hospital wing opened and Professor Dumbledore strode through with Professor McGonagall following just behind.

“Do please explain, Severus, this would be good for us all to hear.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he surveyed the scene. “Ah, Poppy, perhaps you had better be present for this as well,” he said, waving the mediwitch over from where she had been bustling about gathering potions. “Now, Severus, Poppy has already informed Minerva and I of the basic nature of the potion and the altered time limit. Would you care to continue the explanation?”

Snape inclined his head politely towards the headmaster. “As I already explained to Mr. Potter,” he sneered in Harry’s direction, “he has not just altered the time limit, he has in fact eliminated it, at my best guess. Fortunately, the potion is no longer considered quite as complex as it once was, so I am confident that I will be able to brew an antidote within the next three to four weeks.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Well, that does sound fortunate. Can nothing be done to help Harry in the mean time?”

“As I was just explaining to Potter, the potion can be brewed to any of six stages of strength, depending on how tightly bound an owner wanted their slave to be. It is a testament to Potter’s… skill,” he smirked, “that he managed to brew it to its strongest stage. Dripped onto the arms or hands, as we have just seen, that binds one’s arms behind their back from the elbows to the fingertips. And,” he cast a withering glance at Harry, “as we have also just seen, if the potion is brewed to keep the arms behind the back, they cannot be moved to the front. I managed to downgrade the strength of the binding to a stage five. You can see that his hands are still behind his back and his fingers interlocked, but his forearms are free. The next stage down would free his hands, though his wrists would remain shackled. Stages one through three are the same basic principle but with the arms held in front of the body.”

There was a brief pause, then all four pairs of eyes turned to Harry as he tentatively asked, “Professor, couldn’t you just knock it all the way down to stage one now? I mean, if I have to wait to get out of it fully, it’d be nice to have my hands free, and in front.” His eyes were wide and bright as he looked up at Snape.

Snape shook his head, the dark, greasy curtain of his hair falling into his face. “It takes some convincing to get the binding to downgrade. Since it was brewed as a stage six, it will take some very precise finagling to move it down to a stage one. If we misstep, it will snap back to a stage six and be much more difficult to convince the next time. I recommend that we downgrade it slowly through the stages, allowing the binding to settle into each stage before trying to shift it again.”

“And how long do you expect that to take?” Professor McGonagall spoke up for the first time.

After considering for a moment with his lips pursed, Snape answered, “I believe we should give each stage one day more to settle than the previous stage, since as we downgrade it further from its original state the spell will grow more unstable and more likely to snap back to stage six. That will mean that if we downgrade Potter to stage four on Friday morning, he will reach stage one by December 29th, a full week before classes resume. He should have adequate mobility in stage one to fully participate in classes while I finish up the antidote.” He glanced at Harry as he continued, “We will also have to wait until your bindings are at stage one for you to serve your detention.”

Harry glared at Snape, then looked to Professor McGonagall. “Does that mean I don’t have to go to class tomorrow and Friday?” he asked hopefully.

“Certainly not, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall corrected him crisply. “You do not want to fall behind. You will simply have to listen carefully and have one of your friends leave their notes for you to copy later on in the break.”

“But I’ll be a target!” Harry protested. “I can’t defend myself like this!” He wiggled his arms behind his back to demonstrate his predicament.

Professor McGonagall leveled him with a stern glare. “This is a school, not a jungle. You will be fine.”

Dumbledore clapped his hands merrily. “Well. Now that that’s settled. I believe you have missed your dinner, Harry. I’ll have one of the elves send some up, shall I?”

Harry blanched. “Dinner! How will I…? And…” He looked down at his shirt. “My clothes… I can’t…”

“Not to worry, Harry.” Dumbledore assured him blithely. “I’m sure Madam Pomfrey will be most willing to assist you. For now, it may be simplest if you simply sleep in the hospital wing, at least for tonight and tomorrow, and take your meals here. Poppy, if you would get him settled? And Minerva, if you could inform Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger that they may come see Harry in the morning after breakfast, I am sure they are most worried about their friend by this point.”

McGonagall nodded and Madam Pomfrey clucked as she bustled forward, commenting, “I had to send those two away from the doors twice already, most persistent,” before shooing Harry towards a bed and closing the privacy curtains behind them. Dumbledore motioned to the two professors and they followed him to the door. Snape was smirking, and McGonagall shot him an icy glare.

“What exactly do you find so amusing about this?” she snapped at him. “Do you watch your students at all? Potter must have made ten mistakes to get his potion to turn into something so completely different!”

Snape scowled at her. “Thirteen, actually. And in a room full of dunderheads it is difficult to spot every mistake.”

“That is enough,” Dumbledore cut them off as they strode down the corridor outside the hospital wing. “Harry will be fine, in time. I trust Severus to direct his full attention towards creating an antidote, and in the meantime we will work to minimize his discomfort and maximize his mobility. Now, I have work to do, and I know Severus does also.” He gazed sternly at Severus for a moment, then continued, “I will see you both tomorrow.” With that, he left to return to his office, and the other two did the same.

As he headed towards his potions lab in the dungeons, Snape considered just how distressed Potter had seemed by his predicament. Although it surely was an embarrassing and uncomfortable situation to be in, he thought with a smirk, he had been surprised by how much difficulty Potter seemed to have with the situation. Perhaps, he soothed himself, it is especially distressing to be put in such a humiliating position when one is accustomed to being treated as a celebrity. He pushed the questions from his mind as he entered his lab and focused on his newest puzzle to solve, excited despite the potion being for Harry Potter.

xxXxx

The next day, Ron and Hermione met Harry in the hospital wing. Harry had already had all of his needs tended to by Madam Pomfrey, and he was still blushing from being spoon-fed like a child. Fortunately, the mediwitch had been able to direct her wand over her shoulder to help him in the bathroom and with dressing, giving him some amount of privacy.

“Harry! Are you OK? We’ve been so worried!” Hermione exclaimed as she threw herself at Harry in a tight hug. “We tried to visit you last night after dinner but they wouldn’t let us in!”

Harry was struggling to maintain his balance under the weight of Hermione’s enthusiastic hug, and gasped out, “Hermione! You’re knocking me over!”

She stepped back, looking sheepish. “Oh, sorry Harry.”

“But you’re OK now, right mate?” Ron asked, looking Harry over. “You look fine, but we couldn’t really figure out what the potion actually did exactly.”

Harry sighed. “I’m OK, I guess, but I… er… the effects of the fune ad servendium are going to take a while longer to wear off.”

Hermione frowned. “I don’t know that potion. Cord of… service, is that what it means? What does it do?”

Harry told them all about the potion and what it did (though he did not know what the name meant), the missing time limit, and the stages of strength.

“...Professor Snape said we could try slowly decreasing the stages while he works on the antidote. We already got it down one stage, it was pretty uncomfortable before, but I guess my hands will be stuck behind my back for the next few days,” he finished, blushing at this last bit.

Hermione was nodding sympathetically, but Ron frowned.

“Can’t you just step over your arms so they’re in front again? That seems like a simple enough solution for now,” he suggested.

Harry grinned sheepishly. “I tried that yesterday. It doesn’t work. They just snapped back behind me. And then it, uh… punished me, for a few seconds. I’d rather not try again.”

“But that’s barbaric!” Hermione exclaimed. “I can’t believe this kind of a potion even exists! I thought the wizarding world was civilized!”

“Well it’s an old potion, Hermione, no one uses it anymore,” Harry soothed her. “Come on, if we don’t leave now we’ll be late for Flitwick’s class, and I don’t think I’ll do well running like this.”

“Alright mate. Here, I repacked your bag for today’s classes, do you want me to just… er…” Ron trailed off, unsure.

Harry’s blush, which had nearly faded, deepened again. “Er… I guess I don’t really need it today… Maybe if you could just stick my wand in my pocket for me? I don’t know how I’ll use that either, but I feel weird without it.”

Ron suddenly looked mortified. “Harry! Your wand! How will you use your wand?! How will you defend yourself?!”

Harry looked down. “I know, Ron. I can’t do anything about it. Hopefully I’ll be ok.”

Hermione smiled. “Of course you’ll be ok. We’re here, we’ll defend you if we need to. Besides, there’s only two days of classes left.”

Harry smiled at her. “Yeah. Only two days.”

With that, the three of them left the hospital wing for their Charms lesson.

xxXxx

However, if Harry had thought his humiliation for the day was over when he finished being fed breakfast, he learned how wrong he was shortly.

They got to Charms just as the bell was ringing, and Ron and Hermione quickly scrambled into seats at the back of the classroom and began getting their quills and parchment out. Harry tried to follow suit but quickly realized he had no idea how to get the chair out from under the desk. He tried hooking one foot around the leg of the chair and hopping backwards, but this succeeded only in getting the other side of the chair crookedly trapped around the leg of the desk. Everyone was beginning to stare as Ron finally jumped up and pulled it out for him, and Harry’s face was crimson.

Although Harry did manage to pull his chair out by himself in their next class, Transfiguration, by the time they were leaving the classroom for lunch, the entire school had heard about his situation and was talking about it. There were whispers and stares as he trudged down the hallways with his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

The worst, however, was when they ran into Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle at the entrance to the Great Hall. Harry was saying good-bye to Ron and Hermione to head to the hospital wing for lunch when Malfoy pushed past him from behind, knocking his shoulder into Harry’s and causing Harry to stumble and fall to the ground, his cheek smacking into the stone floor. Harry kicked himself over from his stomach onto his side and glared up at Malfoy, his face beet red.

“Oh, sorry Potter, didn’t see you there,” Malfoy chuckled, not bothering to conceal his laughter. Crabbe and Goyle guffawed on either side of him. “What’s the matter?” he continued, “Too tied up for a witty comeback?” With a last smirk he continued into the Great Hall, Crabbe and Goyle laughing on either side of him, while Ron and Hermione knelt down to help Harry up.

“Come on, mate,” Ron said, glaring at the gawking onlookers, “We’ll walk you to the hospital wing.”

xxXxx

By Friday during his morning break, Harry could only think longingly of the beginning of the Christmas holidays in just a few hours. By that time the next morning, most of the students would be boarding the train to go home and the halls would be blissfully quiet. Although Harry would be sad to say goodbye to Ron and Hermione, who were both going home for the holidays this year, he was looking forward to finally being able to avoid the stares and humiliation that had been following him like a dark raincloud since Thursday morning.

Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins that morning had been a disaster. Hagrid had set them a ‘fun’ task for the final class before the holidays, making it simple enough that he could leave them mostly to their own devices while he cared for an injured grindylow he had found at the edge of the lake. He had told them to partner up and gave each pair a fairy, telling them to determine its favorite food from the variety he had set out. Harry had ended up partnering with Ron, but the two of them were hard-pressed to keep their fairy under control. All of the other pairs had set one student the task of holding and soothing the fairy, causing them to preen under the attention, while the other broke the variety of insects and plants up into tiny pieces and fed them carefully. With Harry unable to either hold the fairy or feed it, Ron had kept on fumbling the fairy about as he attempted to scoop crumbled pieces of food into its protesting mouth. Harry had struggled to come up with some way he could help, though his frustration at the situation was increasingly exacerbated by Malfoy’s antics. He and Pansy Parkinson had set themselves up right next to Harry and Ron and, between attempts at feeding his fairy, Malfoy took to prancing about with his hands clasped behind his back like Harry’s, pretending to stumble into things while Pansy snickered. Finally, as a parting shot just after class had been dismissed and Hagrid had returned to his grindylow, Malfoy had chucked a handful of the slimiest fairy food towards Harry’s face. Without his hands, Harry could only duck, and the glob had landed with a wet smack at the top of his forehead and begun sliding down his face. The Slytherins’ guffaws had only increased as Hermione had begun wiping it away from his eyes and face with the sleeve of her robe, explaining she was a bit wary of casting a cleaning charm at his face.

After dropping Ron and Hermione off by the Grand Staircase with repeated assurances that he would be fine alone, he trudged back to the hospital wing to meet Snape, his face streaked with a sticky brown substance. He walked through the (fortunately open) doors of the hospital wing to find Snape and Madam Pomfrey conversing in low tones. Snape looked up as he entered, his face impassive.

“Ah, the man of the hour,” he remarked snidely, closing the doors with a flick of his wand. “Have a seat, Potter, and sit forward. We’ll make this quick.”

Harry complied and Snape began muttering Latin incantations and waving his wand about Harry’s hands. In a minute or two, he felt his hand and fingers loosen from their tight grip and flexed them with a sigh.

“Thanks again, Professor,” he mumbled as he stood and began walking to the door.

“Potter!” Snape called out after him, and he turned. “Unless you truly are as idiotic as your potions work would lead one to believe, I assume the decorations on your face were not intentional. Were you planning on leaving them there all day?”

Blushing, Harry shook his head. Snape sneered and swept past him out the door as Madam Pomfrey bustled over to clean his face.

xxXxx

Harry headed back to the hospital wing for lunch. When he opened the doors to the wing, twisting his hands awkwardly behind his back and grinning triumphantly when the mechanism released, he saw that Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape appeared to be waiting for him while Madam Pomfrey was readying his lunch tray. McGonagall looked mildly displeased about something, although she looked downright happy compared to Snape’s murderous expression, and Dumbledore was his usual jovial self.

“Ah, Harry!” Dumbledore exclaimed as Harry walked towards them. “I see Severus was indeed successful in reducing the binding to stage four. Excellent, excellent. We were just discussing your living arrangements for the holidays. Due to your current predicament, and since you would be alone there anyway with all of the other students gone for the holidays, we have decided it would not be best for you to stay in Gryffindor tower. However, since Madam Pomfrey will be visiting family for most of the holidays, we cannot keep you in here,” he explained.

Harry nodded and looked at Professor McGonagall. “Will I be staying with you then, Professor?” he inquired.

Her lips thinned and she replied, “Unfortunately, Mr. Potter, I am visiting my sister and her family for Christmas and will also be absent for the holidays.”

Dumbledore intervened before Harry could ask his next question, stating, “You will be staying with Professor Snape for the holidays, Harry. He will be here for the duration, should any issues arise he is familiar with the potion and your predicament, and he may need you nearby anyways as he works on the antidote. He also has no students from his house staying for the holidays, so he will not need to juggle responsibilities.” A twinkle danced in his eye as he finished, “I daresay you two will be able to set your differences aside for a mere two weeks.”

Harry gaped at him. “Snape?”

“Professor Snape, Harry,” Dumbledore corrected him. He looked at both Harry and Snape as he continued, “As this is the only logical solution, I expect the two of you to be mature about this situation. Now,” he clapped his hands together, “the elves will take your trunk down to the dungeons for you before the train leaves tomorrow morning, so I suggest you ask one of your friends to help you pack tonight before curfew. You’ll be staying the night here again, and Professor Snape will meet you after breakfast tomorrow to take you down to his quarters.”

Harry nodded mutely, while Snape continued to glare silently, but Dumbledore ignored this and addressed Harry again. “Well Harry, I believe Madam Pomfrey has your lunch ready, so we’ll leave you to it!” With that, he ushered both of the professors out of the wing.

xxXxx

After dinner that night, Harry followed Ron and Hermione up to Gryffindor tower to pack his trunk. He and Ron headed straight to their dormitory and Ron set about packing Harry’s things under Harry’s direction.

Once they had finished, they headed back to the common room to hang out until curfew, joining Hermione in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room. When he told them that he would be moving into Snape’s quarters in the morning and remaining there for the holidays, Ron was immediately outraged on his behalf.

“That git! He startles you into splashing an awful potion on yourself, and then you have to spend the holidays with him! That evil, greasy, dungeon bat!” Ron exclaimed, his face turning red.

Hermione tried to calm Ron down while attempting to comfort Harry. “He’s not so bad Ron, and he didn’t intend Harry to come into contact with the potion. It may not be the best Christmas you’ve ever had, Harry, but I’m sure it will be fine.”

Harry looked at her incredulously. “Hermione, it’s not just that I have to spend Christmas with him, though that’s bad enough. I have to have Snape help me with everything! Food, clothes, bathroom…” Harry turned bright red as he said this.

Ron looked shocked at this. “Bloody hell,” he breathed out.

“Ronald!” Hermione scolded him.

“Hermione, he’s evil!” Ron protested.

“He is not, Ronald, for the last time, Dumbledore trusts him!” an exasperated Hermione reasoned.

Harry quickly intervened before they broke into a shouting match. “It’s fine guys. I’m sure you’re right. It certainly won’t be pleasant, but I doubt he’ll cut me up into potions ingredients. I’ll survive.”

The three of them sat in silence for a minute, then Ron suggested a last game of chess before the holidays and Harry eagerly agreed. Hermione curled up in an armchair with a book, stroking Crookshanks on her lap, while Harry and Ron played. Ron was clobbering Harry worse than usual, and kept snickering into his hands whenever he would take one of Harry’s pieces.

“Queen to E4,” Harry ordered at one point, when around two-thirds of his pieces had been captured already. His face became horrified when Ron ordered his knight to take Harry’s queen, and Ron dissolved into peals of laughter, eventually falling to the floor as he caught sight again of Harry’s stricken expression. Hermione looked up for only a moment to roll her eyes at them, then returned to her book.

As Ron finally calmed down enough to speak, he gasped out, “Give me a hand up, Harry?” and then fell back into helpless giggles when he realized what he had said. At this last statement, Harry joined in his laughter, soon losing his balance and falling to the floor himself, which only increased their mirth.