The bed felt odd when Harry woke up.

He lay very still for a while as his brain slowly shook off the stupor, and began to process things. It took him several long minutes to work out why it felt so strange.

His eyes flew open.

Harry was lying, not in bed exactly, but on his teacher, who had fallen asleep leaning against the headboard. Snape’s arms were still encircling him, and though he was clearly still asleep, they were holding Harry securely enough that he didn’t slip out of his grip. Harry’s pillow was actually Snape’s shoulder.

Snape had held him all night long. Harry’s chest filled with warmth and he gazed at his sleeping Professor, vision blurring, feeling a rush of affection for him.

He had no idea what the time was. Judging from the sun streaming through the curtains, it was quite late in the morning. But Harry didn’t want to move, for fear of waking Snape up, and ending the moment. He closed his eyes again, content to just remain the way they were, when a prickling feeling on the back of his neck told him they weren’t alone.

His eyes snapped open again, and he lifted his head very slightly off Snape’s shoulder to see the doorway.

Albus Dumbledore was standing there, leaning on the frame and smiling broadly at them, eyes twinkling so brightly they could have been stars. “Good morning, Harry,” he said warmly.

“Um … morning, Professor,” Harry whispered, puzzled. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh … I was in the neighbourhood and thought I would drop in to see how you two were getting on. When nobody answered I thought I should check nothing was wrong. I must say, I was not expecting to be greeted with a sight quite like this.”

Harry couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed.

“Anyway … shall I put the kettle on? I imagine Severus will be waking up fairly soon.”

“Er … okay,” Harry said slowly. Dumbledore, still smiling, disappeared out of sight.

Harry yawned and snuggled close to his Potions teacher again, but unfortunately Dumbledore’s prediction began to come true. Snape stirred, and Harry froze, hoping that Snape would fall back asleep, but to his disappointment he opened his eyes slowly.

“Morning, sir,” Harry said quietly, still not moving. Snape blinked a few times, and looked down at him, apparently surprised to see him there.

“Oh, er … morning, Potter.”

For a moment neither of them moved. Then a chink of china and metal coming from the floor below made Snape start.

“What’s that?”

“Professor Dumbledore’s in the kitchen,” Harry said.

“I see,” Snape said heavily. “What wonderful timing.” He let go of Harry and rubbed his eyes, and Harry reluctantly sat up. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Um …” Harry took a moment to consider. “Still bit yucky. But the tummy ache’s more or less gone.”

“That’s good to hear.” Snape groped for his alarm clock. “Merlin’s beard, it’s nearly noon.” He stifled a yawn.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled.

Snape stared at him. “What on earth are you apologising for this time?”

“Um … keeping you up half the night?”

“There’s no need,” Snape said flatly. “We’ve had this conver—” He broke off as Dumbledore reappeared in the bedroom doorway.

“Good morning, Severus,” Dumbledore said brightly.

“Morning,” Snape grumbled.

“I brought you your coffee. And your dressing-gown.”

Snape got to his feet, grabbed it and put it on. “What are you doing here, Albus?”

“As I told Harry, I was in the neighbourhood and thought I’d drop in. “

“In the neighbourhood my backside,” Snape muttered. “You were spying on us, you mean.”

“Well, can you blame me for being curious?”

Snape didn’t answer. “Potter, can I get you anything to eat?”

“Yes please, Professor,” Harry said without a pause.

“Come down when you’re ready.” Snape steered a still-beaming Dumbledore out of the room and down the stairs.

-

“Look, you can wipe that smile off your face,” Severus said once the two of them were out of Harry’s earshot. “Potter was up half the night with food poisoning.”

“You poisoned him? I know you don’t like him, Severus, but really!”

“Very funny.” Albus chuckled, and Severus scowled. “I could hardly just leave him to it, could I?”

“Of course not. But I was not aware that cuddling was a requirement of treating food poisoning.”

Severus glared at Albus. “He fell asleep on me! What would you have me do, wake him up?”

“Severus, I may be old but I am not blind nor senile. I know what I saw, and what I saw was you hugging Harry. I think it’s wonderful.” His eyes were shining with something like pride.

“Well, you would.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you still hate him?”

Severus hesitated, unable to answer truthfully. Albus read the answer in his silence.

“I thought so. You’ve finally warmed to him.” He sounded truly delighted.

“And you’re never going to let me forget it,” Severus muttered. “You realise this is a disaster waiting to happen, don’t you Albus?”

“I don’t believe so, no.”

“I’m a Death Eater! Hating the boy is a requirement! What am I going to do when term starts again? If I stop treating him badly, I may as well be tattooing ‘TRAITOR’ on my forehead and putting my own name at the top of the Dark Lord’s ‘Most Wanted Dead’ list. If I go back to the way we were …”

“Harry will be hurt,” Albus supplied. “Very badly so.”

“Precisely. So tell me what is so wonderful about that.”

Albus sighed. “Severus, you don’t need me to tell you what to do. I know you’ll make the right decision on your own. Term is still a way off, so I suggest you carry on taking care of Harry and just think on it.” He paused. “I should get going. Tell Harry I said get well soon, won’t you?”

-

After ‘breakfast’, Harry spent most of the afternoon dozing on and off in front of the television. When he was awake, he noticed that Snape seemed to be acting strange.

He was still waiting on Harry, and stayed with him during the single bout of vomiting, but something seemed to be on his mind. Harry also ventured into the kitchen once to refill his water, to find Snape whispering something into the phone. Upon seeing Harry, he promptly hung up.

“You could have called me instead of coming in yourself,” Snape said, taking the jug from Harry and refilling it for him.

“My legs went to sleep; I wanted to stretch them.” Harry debated for a moment whether or not to ask who Snape had been on the phone to. He decided against it, curious as he was. It was obviously something private, and he didn’t want to annoy Snape by asking.

Harry wondered if maybe he had done something wrong by hugging Snape last night. True, Snape hadn’t sought to stop him, but it wasn’t something he would normally do and he couldn’t think of another reason why Snape was suddenly acting so weird.

It wasn’t exactly the done thing to hug your teacher. Especially when you knew they heartily disliked you. However good Snape had been at looking after him, it was one thing to accept what was on offer, completely another thing to ask for more. Harry had never thought of himself as greedy before, but now he thought about it, he always wanted more of anything even remotely resembling affection—no matter the source.

He’d always restrained himself from asking for it, never sought it as such, but savoured hugs from his friends and Mrs Weasley, and the occasional hand on the shoulder from Mr Weasley or occasionally one of the other teachers. But it seemed the more he received, the more he craved.

He was greedy.

And in that weak moment his restraint had failed.

What should he do? Apologise? The last time he’d tried to apologise for something he’d only annoyed Snape more. Maybe he should just act like it never happened? Snape hadn’t brought up the subject—maybe Harry should take his cue from him.

-

By the end of the day, Severus had put into motion the plan he had woken up with in his head. Merlin knew if he decided to continue his spying role, he might have a few things to explain, but he couldn’t not do it. Potter … Harry had suffered enough already.

Not that he was going to breathe a word about it to him. Let it be a surprise.

The choice of next term had been bugging him all day; maybe the reason why he’d been so keen to do this one last thing for the boy. Well, maybe not last, but who knew what the future held.

He peeked in on Harry to see he had dropped off again. Severus didn’t want to wake him up, but time was ticking on, and the more Harry could sleep the better. Slowly, carefully, he eased the boy into his arms and lifted him up.

Harry stirred slightly, resting his head on his shoulder and winding his arms around his neck, before going still again. A peaceful smile graced his lips.

Severus carried him gently upstairs, trying not to think about how light he was. Harry had probably lost a substantial part of the weight he had gained at Severus’, just in the last couple of days, having been able to eat hardly anything—and keep even less of it down. Still, if that could be corrected once, it could be corrected again.

He lay Harry down on his bed, pulled the covers up over him and tucked him in. He hesitated, but the urge wouldn’t leave, and Harry seemed soundly asleep …

Severus leaned over him and placed a light kiss on the scarred forehead. Harry twitched but didn’t wake up.

He almost expected Albus to suddenly show up again with a big grin on his face, and was relieved when he didn’t.

“Good night, Harry,” Severus whispered, and left the room, turning the light out on the way.