Surgery by Henna Hypsch
Past Featured StorySummary: Summer fic fest. At one point, early in their life, every wizard needs to submit to surgery. The summer after his first year at Hogwarts, it is the turn of Harry Potter to do so. It’s supposed to be a trifle, but what is ordinary about the Boy-who-lived? Complications will arise. Ghosts from the past will appear and secrets people thought buried for ever are revealed. The question is, in the middle of this ordeal, will Severus Snape at long last find something meaningful to do with his life?
Categories: Teacher Snape > Trusted Mentor Snape, Fic Fests > #18 Summer 2015 Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Molly, Other, Petunia, Vernon
Snape Flavour: Overly-protective Snape
Genres: General
Media Type: None
Tags: Hospitalization
Takes Place: 2nd summer
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Neglect
Prompts: Petunia, Tell Me The Truth, Surgery
Challenges: Petunia, Tell Me The Truth, Surgery
Series: None
Chapters: 12 Completed: Yes Word count: 52532 Read: 103826 Published: 20 Aug 2015 Updated: 31 Aug 2015
Chapter 6 The Foster Family by Henna Hypsch

Neither Snape, nor Harry had much sleep the night before the meeting with the social services, and it was two pale and drawn faces, behind overgrown black hair, that glared and peaked pitifully, at the nurses the next day. The meeting was not scheduled until the afternoon and Snape and Harry waited in almost absolute silence, both of them ignoring most of their food. Harry spotted a bit of fever at noon, but the nurse thought that he was tense and that he had not drunk enough and that it was probably nothing to worry about. Harry who briefly regained a hopeful sparkle in the eyes, as if it would have pleased him to stay longer in the hospital, sank back with a dull face when she did not seem alarmed.

 

The time for the meeting finally came. Harry who was surprised to find out that he would actually be allowed to be present during the session was carefully helped into a wheel-chair and rolled down the corridor into a huge conference room at the end of the Paediatric ward. There were five Muggles present of different professions, from both the Paediatric ward and from the Intensive Care Unit, as it was them, originally, who had filed the report of suspected child abuse to the social services. 

 

Snape expected some intervention from the Ministry of Magic, but was yet startled when the elegant officer from the Muggle social services turned out to be a carefully disguised witch. She was not even an impostor, she confided in Snape who was brought to the side for a confidential talk. Mrs Trench had infiltrated the Muggle social services, with complete qualifications and was thus able to handle the kind of social problems that might arise in mixed Muggle and magical families. She told Snape that Professor Dumbledore had put her into the picture and that she was convinced that they had found a preliminary solution that would probably work out fine. 

 

”I will be vague when I speak about your status as the biological father,” she whispered to Snape. ”Considering that there are no papers confirming such a relationship between Mr Potter and yourself. Manifestly - since you made it all up. I don’t blame you, because you were in difficult situation - necessity has no law. I will be careful with what I say, since all these people still believe you to be the father. What I wanted to stress, however, is that I don’t want you to protest in any way. I won’t confirm the status, nor will I deny it.” 

 

Snape nodded in understanding before going back to Harry who was sitting in his oversized wheel-chair by a huge table. He leant over to hiss in Harry’s ear that this was the real thing. The social lady was from the Ministry. Harry jerked his head up to stare at her.

 

Mrs Trench turned around to open the meeting, addressing the whole room and giving them a summary of the situation.

 

”Mr Potter is known to the social services since he was one year old, when his parents died in an accident,” she explained. ”He was left with his closest relatives, his aunt Petunia Dursley and her husband Vernon Dursley. We’ve been checking up on the family regularly once a year. Do you recall such visits from the social services, Mr Potter?”

 

Harry looked confused and shook his head. Mrs Trench frowned. 

 

”They made home visits and spoke to your aunt, and it says here that they made observations of you in the household that turned out satisfactory,” the social worker insisted.

 

”Aunt Petunia would usually be nicer to me when we had visitors,” mumbled Harry and shrugged. Really, what did they imagine? Aunt Petunia wouldn’t show herself at her worst in front of other people, would she? 

 

Mrs Trench rustled the pages of her file and muttered to herself about naive co-workers and when would they learn to speak directly to the children? She finally cleared her voice and continued in an authoritative voice.

 

”The recent incident when you were apparently abandoned alone in a waiting room of the Emergency at this hospital, and the ensuing report of child abuse, has led us to open up a new investigation as to the suitability of the Dursleys as Mr Potter’s guardians. I have personally spoken to Mr Potter’s aunt and uncle who say that they regret the events preceding Mr Potter’s admittance.”

 

Harry widened his eyes.

 

”They claim that a misunderstanding between themselves and Mr Snape accounts for the unfortunate way Mr Potter was delivered to the hospital.”

 

Snape sneered loudly and several nurses pulled incredulous faces. 

 

”And the severe dehydration that spoke of the lack of care for many hours prior to the admittance…?” said the red-haired nurse called Laura from the Intensive Care Unit. 

 

”Apparently, they did not realise,” said Mrs Trench. 

 

”I asked…” Harry blurted out, but turned his head away abashedly.

 

”Yes, Mr Potter?”

 

Harry only shook his head, stubbornly looking at the floor.

 

”Mr and Mrs Dursley will be subjected to a more thorough investigation from the social services. We always collaborate closely with the police and we have in fact discussed the case with them, considering the severity of Mr Potter’s condition when he arrived at the hospital. I take it that it was a close shave?”

 

Specialist nurse Laura nodded angrily.

 

”The police say that it will be difficult to demonstrate a crime in this affair. It is hard to prove an intention to hurt. And it is questionable whether even an extreme case of neglect will end up being a punishable offence. The Dursleys’ statement will be pitted against Mr Snape’s when it comes to the agreement about who was to attend Mr Potter at the hospital. Even with Mr Potter’s testimony of the events - and I understand that he has not been forthcoming with any details on the matter - with or without it, however, the Dursleys most probably will not be incriminated. Which is not the same as to say that they will qualify as suitable guardians from the social services’ point of view,” concluded Mrs Trench.

 

”But they are not out of the running yet, then?” It was Snape, this time, who asked, a mixture of sarcasm and anger that he could not hold back vibrating in his voice. Nurse Laura shot him a sympathising look, whereas Mrs Trench stared reprovingly at him. Snape tensed and glared back at her: What? Was he not supposed to say a word? Just obey and stay mute, like Harry?

 

”Mr Potter will be removed, temporarily, from the care of Mr and Mrs Dursley. Whether he will return to them at a later stage, will depend on the extended investigation,” said Mrs Trench. 

 

”Why, when the boy has a father who obviously cares for him?” said Nurse Laura impatiently.

 

Mrs Trench drew a deep breath and turned to face the nurse, forcing herself to speak calmly.

 

”Mr Snape has done a good job in assisting Mr Potter. The health care staff give him high commendations. However, I believe that Mr Snape himself is aware of… a certain darkness… in his past… that naturally make us question his suitability as a guardian.”

 

Snape bowed his head in silence, but Nurse Laura did not let go.

 

”For heavens’ sake,” she exclaimed. ”The past cannot rule the present. Everyone should get a second chance. Believe me, after a week in a hospital, most parents show their true faces and I’ve rarely seen someone as patient and as dedicated to their child as Mr Snape has proven to be. Come on, he’s the father! The boy needs him! Let them stay together.”

 

Snape coloured at her passionate speech and Harry looked at her under the black fringe with a curious expression on his face - was it a mixture of bashfulness and hope? - his knuckles whitening as he gripped the handles of his wheel-chair harder.

 

”In case Mr Snape would like to assume the responsibility of parenthood vis-a-vis Mr Potter, he should start with filing an official demand for guardianship. We have yet to see it.” Mrs Trench raised a daring eyebrow in Snape’s direction. ”Such a demand would, of course, lead to a thorough and fair investigation, but considering the complicated past of Mr Snape, it would take some time and we are here today to find an intermediary solution to Mr Potter’s problem,” said Mrs Trench.

 

”Unbelievable!” muttered Nurse Laura, throwing an incensed glance at Snape. Why was he not protesting? He did not look easily intimidated. Why did he not stand up for his rights as a parent? 

 

”We have found a foster family that is willing to receive Mr Potter without delay,” Mrs Trench said briskly. 

 

Harry looked gloomily at her, shrinking into the worn leather back of his wheel-chair. 

 

”This respectable family has a spotless record and they have several children of their own,” she continued while Harry deliberately turned his head away from her.

 

”The Weasleys live in the countryside, close to a small village called Ottery St Catchpole…” she rambled on, but Harry did not listen any longer. He had jerked his head back to stare at Mrs Trench and bolted upright in his wheel-chair. Was it possible? Mrs Trench lifted an eye-brow at him.

 

”Would… would that be Ron Weasley’s family, Madam?” Harry blurted out. Snape, who was sitting at his side, put a calming hand on his arm, but Harry was so eager that he did not notice.

 

”One of their children is called Ronald Weasley, I believe, and is about your age.” The disguised witch smiled conspiratorially at him.

 

”But… but… He’s my best friend at school! His twin brothers are in the year above, and I’ve met his mother twice. She’s really friendly. And he’s got a little sister. I have not met his father, but I think that he’s okay, too. Are you sure they want me to come? That’s really, really brilliant. Thank you, Mrs Trench. Thank you so much! Severus! They are going to let me live with the Weasleys!” 

 

Harry was exultant and the nurses around him could not help but smile at his excitement. Snape patted his arm with an inscrutable face, but inwardly he was relieved. He should have known that Albus would find a suitable solution. He only wished that the social worker witch had told them right away and spared them all the preceding drivel. It clouded the happy ending somehow when Snape’s joy for Harry’s sake was stained with the least little bit of selfish regret.

 

***

 

A good twenty-four hours later, Ron Weasley popped his head inside the living-room at the Burrow where Mr and Mrs Weasley were sitting together with his least favourite teacher, Severus Snape.

 

”Dad,” he said.

 

It was almost eight o’clock and Ron’s parents were beginning to wonder how come the sour Potions master of Hogwarts did not bid his farewell and leave them. He had accompanied Harry from the hospital in the morning to get him settled in, then stayed for lunch, then stayed for tea, and they were now beginning to wonder if they would have to offer him dinner as well. Their guest did not particularly seem to enjoy himself, not saying much, remaining grave and taciturn whichever subject they tried to broach. They were starting to feel that he had outstayed his welcome.

 

”Yes, Ronald?” said Mr Weasley.

 

”Harry’s asleep,” said Ron. 

 

”He’s probably just taking a nap, dear. We should wake him up for dinner, or he will not be able to sleep tonight,” said Mrs Weasley.

 

”Um… I think he went to sleep about an hour ago in the middle of a game and not even Fred and George could wake him up with their Exploding snap cards, so Bill just levitated him over to his bed and if you ask me, Harry’s turned in for the night. I just thought that you should know,” said Ron.

 

”Well, that’s a new record,” snorted Snape. ”Falling asleep at six thirty. But I’m not surprised, because of all the excitement today, with moving him here and with all the attention you’ve given him.”

 

Snape’s nonchalant words contrasted with the worried look on his face when he stood up. Molly Weasley followed his example and rose. 

 

”Let’s check on him,” she said.

 

Mounting the narrow stairs and entering the room that Harry shared with Ron, Snape and Molly Weasley met the twins who had collected their Exploding snap cards and were retreating from the room. Harry’s glasses lay on the side table of the bed and Bill had tucked him in neatly under a thin cover, because it was still warm outside. Snape stepped up to the sleeping form on the bed and touched Harry’s forehead. Molly Weasley followed his example and repeated the gesture.

 

”He’s a tad hot,” she commented and frowned.

 

Snape drew his wand and performed a simple temperature spell. 

 

”38.3 degrees,” he said.

 

”Surely that’s a bit high so many days after the surgery? Should we call the hospital?” Molly asked with preoccupation in her voice. Snape furrowed his eyebrows. This was so much harder without the Muggle nurses to back him up.

 

”No, I don’t think it is necessary quite yet. I’ve seen him like this before. Especially when he is tense or excited,” responded Snape.

 

”None of our children were affected to such a degree after their appendicitis. All of them have gone through it, you know. Ginny had hers when she was seven,” said Mrs Weasley.

 

”Well, none of their appendixes burst, did they? Nor did they have a generalised peritonitis,” Snape retorted sharply. ”The doctors explained to me that because of the spread and the large area of tissue involved in the infection, Harry will take longer to heal. They also said that the healing involves a lot of inflammatory markers being released into his system and that it may cause a fever, and that, in turn, is what causes his tiredness. So it would be a perfectly natural part of the healing to have a low-grade, fluctuating fever. If he rises above 38.5 degrees, or persistently stays above 38 degrees, I was told to contact them, however, because there is still a small risk that he develops a new abscess, and those… er… need to be drained. Antibiotics alone do not work against them.” Snape drew his breath.

 

”So we monitor his temperature…” Molly Weasley started to say only to be interrupted by Snape.

 

”Yes, three times a day until it reaches normal levels - below 37.5 that is, I asked specifically - and twice a day for three more days after that.”

 

”So if his temperature is still above 38 degrees tomorrow…”

 

”Then I would call the hospital. Ask for Nurse Samantha or Nurse Maria Helena as they are the most sensible ones.” 

 

”I realise that I should have been present at the discharge, to receive the doctor’s directions. But it was so practical for you and Arthur to bring him here and I thought that since I’ve already handled seven children with the appendicitis, I would manage. I’m not sure whether Arthur caught a word of what the doctor said.” Mrs Weasley made a disapproving grimace. ”I’m glad you were there, though. You’ve done a thorough job, Severus.”

 

Snape nodded in acknowledgment, without responding.

 

”I will check his temperature again this evening to make sure it does not rise above 38.5,” said Mrs Weasley, ushering Snape out of the room. ”For now, I will just let him sleep. I suppose he needs it to heal. It bothers me that he had nothing to eat before going to bed, though.”

 

”You’ll have to make it up to him tomorrow,” answered Snape. ”He has had trouble keeping up with his energy intake as he has not regained his appetite quite yet. The solution is to give him numerous small meals. And you don’t need to withhold sweets and cookies just right now - he only nibbles at whatever you give him anyway. Maybe with your cooking skills, Molly, you’ll be able to stimulate his appetite. You made a very nice lunch, thank you, and… and I guess I should be going…” Snape finished sheepishly as Mrs Weasley had ushered him all the way to the exit.

 

”Thank you so much for your help, Severus. You’re welcome to pop by to check on Harry any time. Have a nice evening.” Molly Weasley shut the door and leant against it. ”Did I just say that he could pop by any time?” she groaned in a whisper to her husband who raised an amused eyebrow. 

 

”He has entered on your domains, Molly, and that frustrates you. You realise that he is concerned for Harry, don’t you? That’s all.”

 

”It’s so strange! Ron told us how horrible Severus has been to Harry in class all year.” Molly shook her head in disbelief.

 

*** 

 

Snape walked slowly on the gravelled path leading from the Burrow to the nearest village, Ottery St Catchpole. Oblique rays of sun made the light dance over the soft hills in a captivating way, and an enveloping warmth stayed in the air from the hot summer day. Still, Snape felt strangely heavy-hearted. He should be happy to be free, at last, after being shut up in a hospital room for a whole week. He only needed to summon a little bit of determination and he could Apparate straight home. But as Snape continued walking, Spinners End felt far away and Apparating felt like an impossibility. 

 

Snape suddenly found himself in the middle of the village. He had been walking with a bent head, eyes riveted on the ground in front of him. When he lifted his head, a little lost, his attention was drawn to a small group of people who entered through a heavy oak door to his right. On an impulse, as if to find an excuse to delay his departure, Snape followed them inside the inn.

 

The pub was crowded and busy with a mixture of Muggles of different ages. Snape found himself a secluded corner at the counter and ordered a cold beer. The barman who was also the proprietor of the inn lifted an eyebrow.

 

”Foreigner?” he asked.

 

”No,” muttered Snape. ”I simply learnt to enjoy cold beer during my travels in Europe.” He had never agreed with the lukewarm English beer.

 

Two hours later, Snape was still sitting in his corner, staring in front of him, with the same beer-glass on the counter, still half-full.

 

”You’re not a heavy drinker,” the barman commented sarcastically. Snape startled out of his reverie.

 

”It got warm,” he said and shrugged. 

 

”Could have asked for another, then,” the barman muttered and added. ”You look dog-tired, mate, if you ask me. And you’re not from here. Maybe you’d like a room upstairs and turn in?” The man gestured at a rickety wooden stair-case at the other end of the hall. Snape shook his head automatically.

 

”I should probably be going,” he muttered and rose.

 

The thought of leaving the inn and Apparating away, however, made Snape’s  limbs suddenly feel heavy as lead. He frowned at himself. Was he not well? Why did it feel so utterly impossible to leave this place? The barman was right, though, he was exhausted, because he had not slept much the last night at the hospital, neither the night before, when they awaited the meeting with the social services.

 

”Changed my mind. I’ll take a room,” said Snape.


The End.


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