SETBACK

-Wasted time and effort; 32 hours. (He grounded me)

- Direct/Indirect influence on death; prolonging our stay in the cottage for another week.

Conclusion: I should stop calculating and adding up my hours like this. It might seem creepy.

*

My friends and healer were rather vocal when it came to choosing Snape out of all people to be my caregiver, although it wasn’t much of a choice for me at all, they (graciously) reassured me that the man and I would be back at each other’s throats eventually if not from the start, they gave us two weeks tops.

Well, Severus and I granted their predictions two weeks and a day early.

“Magical radiation is bad for you Potter; it might react negatively with your potion, so you’re going to wait in this car, until I say otherwise. Was that clear?” I nodded in understanding.

“What are you going to do?” my knees were on the car seat, easily fit in as I looped my hands around my legs, watching as the potion master bustled around the car, opening the doors and closing them, fiddling with the boot to fetch out a small black case and finally end up leaning in the car with only one of his hands, to take the switch out as the other was firmly set on the driver’s door.

“Set up the pipes, turn off any harmful magical sources except for the wards, etc. Albus said the house had a muggle setting as well, so technically speaking; there should be electricity but I doubt if the cottage has been wired. It all needs to be done by hand, so you’re useless.” He said, taking the car keys out with a sigh. Snape drew himself out of the car but left the doors open.

“Can I walk around the beach?” I asked, enjoying the wind’s limited access from the doors musing my hair.

“No.” the man snapped. “I can’t have you foolishly killing yourself off while walking headfirst into the ocean. Stay in the car.”

I scoffed. “I think I wouldn’t be that clumsy.” I was itching to run through the field, feel the wind and dip my toes in the gleaming gold specks of sand; stumbling around like an idiot was one thing, stumbling around like an idiot for the first time in a place you’ve never been before was exciting enough for my guts to twist and turn into each other.

“I’m not taking any chances Potter, now stay here, I’ll be back.” He didn’t specify an exact time and I didn’t expect him to, Snape turned to the cottage but left all doors open, probably just so I wouldn’t roast in the heat.

After a few moments of awkward humming, and narrowing my eyes to survey the clearing and the beach, I decided this was possibly a decent time for me to finally have lunch; I was just beginning to feel a subtle pinch in my stomach that could be preceded as hunger, I dove my hands deep in my pocket in search of the said lunch.

My nose scrunched up as sea air wafted into the car with a breeze; I hadn’t been expecting the moistness of the air or the intense smell of seashore, to be this familiar, if I was being honest. It was one of those things you just knew by instinct; even though it was my first time by seaside, and I was still in a confined space, I could bet my life that I would’ve recognized the smell anyways.

I shifted a bit in my seat and got the wrapped sandwich out of my sweater with a grimace.

Food is two things to me; it’s either the liquid food I had been forced to chock up on since I found out I was sick, with a bland taste, sludgy form, and honestly more like the gooey sap we brewed in our potion’s class rather than soup.

Then there was /food/; rich, house elf made food, which made your mouth water and your stomach to protest against world hunger, the kind of food, I never saw myself indulging in as an orphaned child.

The sandwich I was munching on was an utter disgrace to both groups; oh it was made by house elves alright, but even that couldn’t salvage the poor wrapping to be squashed in a sweater in a car for the better part of the day.

After a bit of pondering, I dissected the sandwich and picked out the pickles, the soaking tomatoes and wrinkled my nose before putting the turkey back together.
The more I stayed in the car, the more I felt the profundity of the humid odor that hung in the car; it smelled a bit of damp and rain water mainly because it had rained mostly all the way, mixed with an indistinguishable scent of herbs that I couldn’t recognize.

By the time the sun was only starting to warm things up again I had already finished my lunch, so I got busy working my way through Snape’s unopened juice box (it was just lying there and I was thirsty); I sneaked a few glances at the cottage as the orange juice was drained, spying to see if Snape has come out at all; he had been gone for half an hour now.

I got out of the car with the empty juice box clenched in my sweaty palm, narrowing my eyes at the sudden change in light; I felt the comfortable caress of the sun blazing down upon me and the car. I slammed all of the doors shut and jammed my hands in my pockets, my eyes two slime slits as I ignored the beach and turned to walk to the porch.

Small rocks groveled beneath my feet, as wind blew, I caught Snape’s figure crouched somewhere behind the cottage’s lawn, muttering something.

Snape scowled as I drew nearer, his tone was snarky, but not up to his own usual standards. “I’ve been expecting you to disobey me sooner Potter. You’re getting slow.”

“I got bored sir; can I get in the house now?”

The man nodded in confirmation, getting back inside. “The wards are taken care of. The rooms are upstairs potter so you go choose if you want.”

“The bathroom is at end of the same hall, I put your trunk by its door.” The potion master continued, his face maintaining a casual expression. I looked around, noticing the shells and dried starfish embedded in the pale white walls, a wind chime made of small vulnerable looking shells and the open design of the small, but surprisingly homey cottage.

I could easily imagine myself living in this place. At peace with the world, calmed by the sound of the waves and basked in its comforting scent, I could even imagine dying in a place like this.

It brought the coziness of the burrow and the shrill of being in an unfamiliar place to me at once, and I liked it.

“Thanks sir.” I ran my hand along the sturdy handrail of the stairs, noticing small pecks of sand prettily tucked at the corner of each, coloring the dark wood with sandy speckles.

“I’ll be in the kitchen, I have a headache, so do not bother me if unnecessary. However you are to call for me if you needed anything or if there was an emergency.” Snape ordered and I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me doing so.

‘Upstairs’ was just as lovely as the main floor, the walls were as pale (with no picture or portrait hanging on them) and the floor was squeaky clean, also with polished dark floorboards. The roof hung a bit low but I couldn’t really complain as I spotted my trunk at the end of the hall and went to retrieve it.
After quickly dropping in the bathroom (I had no idea I needed to pee before, I’ve been holding in all day) and checking out all of the rooms, I went to unpack. The room I’ve chosen wasn’t the largest, as there wasn’t really such a thing in this cottage, but it wasn’t small enough to be declared as Dudley’s second bedroom junior either.

The room I chose was the only one with French doors that led to a magnificent view of the sea that I had yet to check out, it was also the only one with a walk in wardrobe, much to my surprise. I’ve never seen a walk in wardrobe before, and embarrassingly enough, it entertained me longer than I cared to admit… just long enough for me to be lose interest in unpacking in the first place.

As I inspected the desk set next to the French doors, I decided that I should at least write a letter to Hermione and the Weasleys to let them know I was alright, specially seeing as I had left rudely on such a short notice; Ron was bound to hate me now, for more reasons than one.

Just for the sake of the flickering sense of humor in me and as an apology to my friend, I decided to describe my car drive in more excruciating detail and glitter it with a bit of exaggeration (we did play a variety of games that Severus would rather die than admit), in my letter. Ron for one would have one hell of a laugh about all the things I did to Snape today.

Smiling softly, I sat on the chair and laid my hands upon the desk, already forming the words I wanted to have in my letter.

I was giddy at the prospect of writing, as I was with everything after stopping that gruesome treatment. The thing was...chemo often left me so sick that writing or walking round or sitting upright for more than a minute was not a high priority on my list, now that I could get to do them though… it felt as if it was for the first time.

My grin froze on my face as I was only posing to stand up; my body went completely rigid for a moment, the air stilled as well, and silence was startlingly prominent in my brain for a few moments. In order to send or receive a letter, I needed my owl, but…

/Where's Hedwig? /

I gasped, eyes widening as they inspected the room more thoroughly, thinking that I must have left her in the car or downstairs or… somewhere. There was no way that I had left without her, I was sure of it… was I sure of it?

I ran out of my room and down the stairs faster than I have in months and bolted to the kitchen while heaving, wildly looking for the familiar golden cage that was just /bound/ to be here somewhere.

Snape also came barreling out of the kitchen, thinking that something must have happened to me; I returned his weary glance with a tearful gaze as we almost collided into one another.

“Where’s Hedwig?” I asked him frantically, and he just blinked for a moment.

“What is wrong with you Potter?” the man gritted out maliciously, his eyes still narrowed; I thought that he probably wondered if I was playing a prank on him. But I wasn’t… I can’t even fathom what had happened to Hedwig. How had I forgotten about her?

“Where is Hedwig, did we bring her?” my face contorted, as Snape’s grew blank and sneering once more.

“You just scared the living hell out of me you idiotic boy. Running around like a racket, I thought you were dying.” As he was saying this my mind was thousands of miles away, wondering what had happened to my precious owl; I must have left her at the castle, or somewhere that clearly wasn’t here, I just didn’t know where.

“What is it?” he grudgingly snapped and I sniffed, dragging my sleeve down my face.

“Hedwig. I left her.” I didn’t even know why I was crying, bottom line would be Snape quickly going back to the school to retrieve her, or sending a letter for her to fly here to the cottage, but there was something unspeakably morbid about my forgetfulness and unbalanced emotional state that required my full indignation about this.

I was such a selfish person, Hedwig hasn’t seen me in months, and I still neglected her regardless.

The man pinched his nose. His tone was irritated. “Hedwig as in your…”

I cut him off with urgency. “My owl, where’s Hedwig?”

The man crossed his arms with a scowl. “Obviously not here.” His eyebrows were suddenly arched in surprise. “Are you crying?” he asked, looking taken back.
I shook my head in frustration. “No, we need to go get her…”

“I’m sure /Hedwig/ can fend for herself until morning. Calm down Potter.”

“No I can’t! We need to go and get Hedwig, what if she’s hurt, or if she can’t find us?” I said pathetically. What if she’s been dead all these months and I didn’t know? What if she thought that I had abandoned her?

My mind was buzzing and rationality wasn’t really a big deal then, every probable possibility was being drummed in my head and Snape was none the wiser.

“She’s been in the owlery, yes? There’s no reason for a tantrum Potter, she’s safe, now stop crying.” He was tired, I could tell, the man was exhausted from driving all day in the traffic, and his constant rubbing at the temples told me more than enough about his apparent headache, still I prodded him.

“I’m not crying, but we have to go now.”

The potion master sighed again. “We can’t. It’s already past seven, too late for me to leave you all by yourself, I’m not fit to apparate either; we’ll just have to wait until morning so I could…”

“Send them a letter; Hedwig knows how to find me.”

Severus’ face twisted in a mild sneer, similar to the ones he gave me when I was in the infirmary. “I don’t have an owl Potter, and even if I did, I wouldn’t humiliate myself over what can be fixed in less than a few hours. Now go unpack, we’ll eat dinner and then you’re sleeping.”

“But Hedwig…”

“I said no, Potter. Get the hint.”

“I can’t leave her.” I said pleadingly.

“You’ve been doing it for months, I can’t apparate or floo with you around, and so that owl will have to wait.”

“Take the car then, there should be a way to…”

The man lost his patience and flipped out. “FOR the last bloody time Potter, that blasted owl will be fine.” He gritted out. “I don’t care if it’s not; its presence doesn’t make a grand difference in our lives, so it’s not urgent enough for you to bawl over. It was your inconvenience that brought this up in the first place. That owl is safe in the owlery, and will remain so until I see fit. Was that clear?”

“I can’t just leave her; it’d be quick, if you could just…”I pleaded; my stomach churning uncomfortably.

“No, Potter. Now leave, I told you not to bother me if it’s not urgent, I don’t want to see your face until dinner.”

“Don’t be so mean Snape, Hedwig was all I had, it doesn’t even take a minute for you to go back and get her.”

“Well guess what? I’m not going, not now, not tomorrow, not ever. If you wanted to bring that blasted owl along, you should have done it yourself. Now get out of the kitchen.”

The urge to stomp my feet down and be a brat like Dudley was so strong that I actually considered it, but then I was reminded that this was /Snape/, and the man already looked pissed enough that his peace had been disrupted, he might actually do me in if I stepped an inch out of line.

“I hate you.” I spat out with as much force as possible, not even caring how childish and lame I sounded like as I turned and walked out of the small kitchen.

Fuming upstairs, my door was slammed shut with more force than usual, I flung myself on the bed and sighed, my lips pressing together as I cursed myself for my forgetfulness. The excitement engulfing me while leaving the damned infirmary was so propitious that I forgot to pack the one thing that mattered to me the most; only that bloody potion had to be what reminded me of her.

She was more than just my familiar; she was my friend, and somebody who was always there for me when others weren’t. Even if that wasn’t the case, how was I supposed to communicate with others now?

Dread filled my stomach with a cold stab, causing me to curse under my breath. Surging to my feet, I started to pace, being too angry to go to the balcony and enjoy the view and too proud to go downstairs and beg Snape some more, I was stuck in a mild panic. What was the deal with him anyways?
I paced and sulked for a while, long enough to completely miss the sunset and the breathtaking view of the sea while I was at it, not only that, but my brooding left little time for me to unpack, so without taking a shower or even a change of clothes, I dragged myself downstairs for /dinner/.

I was really starting to hate the cottage.

“Don’t play with your food Potter, it’s disgusting.” The man drawled from across the table while we were seated at the small round table, the table cloth was creamy and covered with a thin layer of clear latex, our plates snuggly dipped in when they were finally set.

I twirled the spoon in my hand again, just to irritate the man. “I just had lunch a few hours ago.” I grumbled. The awful aftertaste of the turkey was still somehow lingering in my mouth.

“That’s because you refused to eat it once the time was right Potter. Stop the excuses; I can keep this up longer than you might think is possible.” Despite his nonchalant tone, I could easily detect his frustration from the stoic look on his face.

I didn’t grace the man with a response, cramming the spoonful of stew in my mouth, and started chewing with the spoon still in.

“When will you get Hedwig sir?”

“Not tonight.” The man responded sternly.

I didn’t push him, mainly because some irrational-or rather rational, at the time- part of my brain warned me against angering the man; without Hedwig to deliver my cries for help the potion master could do anything he wanted to do with me, refraining from reminding him of that fact was overreacting at best and a real concern at its worst.

Snape made me clean up the dishes as punishment, and glared daggers at my back whenever he thought I wouldn’t notice, I had half a mind to turn back and snap at him, I had brain cancer, I wasn’t a dolt, the potion master was either mad because I told him I hated him, or was already starting to take advantage of Hedwig’s absence.

“What?” I finally snapped. Snape stared back at me, unimpressed.

“Nothing. Your curfew is at ten. You’re free until then, call only if it’s urgent Potter, not for your forgotten pajamas.” I let the jab slide on purpose and only glared back. I hated this; I hated to be proved wrong by myself, to see what a bastard Snape was turning to already, and it wasn’t even our first day here.
I decided to give it one last go from tomorrow, I wanted this, I needed to get this list done before my illness finally caught up with me, and for all that mattered then, that man was what held that key above my head, he was the one who was making my new potions, and he was my caregiver above everything else. I needed him, as much as I detested that.

“Greasy bat.” I muttered under my breath, sneaking a glance at the man before trudging my way to my new room with less enthusiasm and awe than the last time.
The cottage had no wiring, and I was dragging my feet in absolute darkness, it didn’t scare me at all and I managed to find my room without tripping even once (mind blowing as it was, I wasn’t even surprised at this point), I felt the sturdy texture of the creaky door and closed it behind my back, feeling oddly depressed and alone again.

Unpacking my belongings, I put all my clothes in the walk in closet and even filled the small bookshelf above my desk in total darkness, accompanied by the silence and the old creaking of the cottage. I figured I should ask Snape for some candles in the morning; moonlight could only illuminate things so much.
The sheets on the single bed smelled clean, but I could tell they haven’t been washed in a while; they smelled a bit of damp and salt, a scent my nose was beginning to familiarize with rather quickly. I curled up in myself and stared at the French doors with longing, I could hear the waves clashing beneath me if I really paid attention, in that darkness and the weightlessness that heaved on my chest, I could even imagine myself floating over the water, being lulled to sleep.

‘That’s how you die Potter.’ A voice whispered in my head.

‘All alone, and pathetic, with the things you love only a touch away.’ She was right, the one thing I had obsessed over with since I was a child was like ten steps away and I even didn’t have it in me to walk that much, to just get a glimpse at what Dudley had been gloating about for years… it all was starting to feel petty.
Why did I even want to do these things? To indulge in them and lose them forever? Who knew if I would live until tomorrow to finally see the ocean, or to get Hedwig back?

When they told me I had cancer, they didn’t warn me about the depression or the mental anguish that was following me now, I felt as if it came only in small bursts to irritate me; that day in the infirmary when Snape caught me crying, countless nights before that, mourning Sirius’ death and Remus’ permanent absence… this new potion was only toning it down a bit now, at least it stopped me from crying.

My eyelids grew heavier with each thought, and my breath eased out eventually, as I succumbed to an uneasy sleep.

*
I didn’t sleep for long.

My feet flew over the wooden porch in a flash, darting over the steps and rushing forward to the clashing waves ahead. My breath caught in my throat, and I involuntarily trembled as the night’s chilling breeze passed over me, tingling the air with the salt and the distinctive smell of seaweed. I needed to be quieter or Snape would come out (he was in the basement, somewhere); I quietly sneaked down the porch.

The scene could better be described as a figment of my imagination, as I tumbled towards the beach; the night’s starry sky had collided with the never-ending ripples of the water, both littered with small glittering stars, so vividly, in fact, that I could barely tell where one ended and the other begun.

My legs were dragging me forward; I helplessly tried to fixate the thin duvet on my shoulders as they constantly got caught under my feet, it tangled me like it didn’t want me to venture any further, but I was determined to finally get a taste of what sea really felt like, would it feel cold? Was the water warm? Were the waves dangerous?

As I got closer, I simultaneously heard the gurgling sound of the sea the moment my feet finally was set on the squashy sand, the feeling sent a jolt up my spine, my eyes were dragged down to my wiggling feet, the warm sand swaying between my toes, and fitting snuggly beneath me like a rug.

The feeling was foreign enough that I wanted to sink my hands in it as well, so I did. I dropped to my knees and delved my fingers in the sand, drawing parallel lines with my fingers as I grinned like an idiot. I couldn’t stop smiling though, I felt like a small child, exploring and getting to know everything around him from the start.

_It is not enough for me to read that the sand on the seashore id soft; my bare feet must feel it. I have no use for knowledge that has not been preceded by a sensation._

If I had read ‘Fruits of the earth’ sooner, I might have been mildly affected by that paragraph when I finally got to put a sensation behind my knowledge of sand, but I didn’t… not for another two months before it was given to me, although the thrill of pure emotion never ceased to amaze me afterwards, not for a single moment.

Playing in the sandbox as a child was never an option for a scrawny kid like me, not when Dudley and other kids dominated over the playground whenever I got the chance to sneak out as well, not only that, but I was rightfully afraid of what Petunia will say if I dragged mud, sand and filth all over her house. The house that /I/ cleaned, mind you.

I played with it for a while, I liked the soft and squashy texture, if I fisted my hands, they would gather in like prisoners, if I smoothed my palms, they would cover it like a warm secure blanket, and if I drew mindless patterns on the ground, they would turn into a masterpiece just to appease me. The feeling was nice, but it left my skin a bit itchy. Not that I minded.

The waves sounded more overwhelming and louder the closer I got to them, soon they were all I could hear above the crickets crying, and the wind shuffling through the woods, the smell was stronger as well, I swore that I could even taste it in my mouth now.
The closer I got, the more I came to the same assumed conclusion; Dudley wasn’t lying, he wasn’t even remotely exaggerating, the sea was breathtakingly beautiful.

I sank down next to the shore, close enough that the foaming water only lapped up to my sand covered toes, my hands were splayed behind me and I titled my head to the sky, feeling intensively relieved.

I knew that I hadn’t made a mistake, now that my depressive burst was over and things were a bit brighter…cutting treatment, and gradually dying was absolutely worth this, even with Snape as my chaperon, specially him, because I knew that somehow, I wouldn’t be able to express myself around the people I fully knew (even though the potion master was a git) , I could never feel comfortable enough around Mr. Weasley to sneak out in the middle of the night like this, just to spite him after an argument, nor could I enjoy the fulfillment that I was feeling now under their scrutinizing gaze.

I don’t know if I had ever felt that sense of effectuation before, but if the feeling that night was anything to go by, I’d say I never had fully lived until then.
Somewhere down the line, I decided that watching it isn’t pleasing anymore, not if I hadn’t gotten to feel it, so I got up to my feet, and cautiously neared the waves.
First the tips of my toes were run over by the assuaging current of water, which relaxed me to the point that delving into the sea without any swimming abilities seemed like no big deal. My feet indignantly splashed as I proceeded to go further, the grin on my face almost splitting it in two.

“Snape is going to kill me.” My voice didn’t carry any emotions aside from the slight quiver of relief.

“Snape is going to murder me.” I said a little louder, the smile evident in my cheeky tone.

“Snape is going to cut me up and use me in small portions to make potions.” I said the third, mainly because I was enjoying my tongue-tied free night as a semi healthy person, rather than trying to wake the man up.

My legs dragged further into the water, and the waves were shyly peaking a little above my ankles now, not exactly cold or chilling, but not overly warm either. It was surprising that I could still feel the wet sand underneath my feet, and at the same time, feel the weightlessness of my legs being dragged by the water.

Snape was going to kill me; if I didn’t go right back in and pretended I didn’t sneak out here in this cold, he would surely send me packing in the morning, and land my butt back to Hogwarts before I could say jellyfish.

“You’re right Potter, he is.” A cold voice drawled behind me, and I jolted forward into the water from fright.

“Snape.” I blurted out, I was only half turned, and the damn duvet (now slightly wet and drenched) still tangled around my frame, creating an annoying friction with the sand that was making it hard for me to turn without putting myself at a disadvantage.

“Potter.” The man growled out, closer than I actually thought he would be standing.

“What on /earth/ are you doing in there?!” to his defense, I would have taken the man considerably more seriously if he didn’t look so exhausted or sluggish, the man must have been awake all night, despite claiming to have a headache earlier. (I later found out not only the man was having a severe headache that night but was prohibited from taking any forms of potions to cease the pain)

“I… I woke up and I thought...” I stammered lamely after he repeated the question a few times. The man strode even closer and I stumbled towards him, the duvet still burdening me with its dead weight.

“What does you waking up normally entail Potter? Getting a soak in the sea in the middle of the night?” he seethed, his hand closing around my frail wrist the moment I was in his general vicinity. I shrugged him off with a scowl. So the man’s still hissy about earlier today, I thought to myself.

“I just wanted to look, Snape.” I said defensively.

With another furious rub at his temple, Snape jeered. “Look at what exactly? Because to me it seemed like you were about to foolishly drown yourself under my watch in the middle of the night.” I gaped; did the man really think I was so stupid, as to just walk in the water and drown myself?! How stupid really the man thought I was?

“The water didn’t even reach my knees, give me a break.” Just like that, my magical and surprisingly intimate moment with myself was shattered. Snape’s sneer was illuminated only by the moonlight; I felt the depth of his gaze see through my soul and shuddered.

Snape jeered, his face was somehow even more frightening then. “Do not overestimate your authority Potter.” He seethed. “You are in trouble right now, in case you haven’t noticed. Your cheekiness will not be appreciated.”

I scoffed. “Next you’re gonna say I’m in trouble for breathing. I don’t see any problem in taking a walk…”

“Do not play coy, it doesn’t become you. We had a specific set of rules and I doubt going behind my back just to spite me is one of them.”

I blinked.

“What? I wasn’t going behind your back! Stop putting words in my brain!” I retorted angrily, my hands clenched into fists, and I gritted my teeth.

Snape looked unimpressed and angry at the same time, hardly looking like he could contain himself if this argument dragged on. “I can’t have you killing yourself Potter; there are more humiliating deaths than surviving cancer and accidentally drowning.”

His last comment stung, but I didn’t let it get to me, I was too scandalized and indignant to lean my focus away from the anger to hurt.

“It didn’t even reach my knees!” I exclaimed. “ I was not doing this to get back at you, I don’t even know why you’re mad, I woke up, and this is my first time by seaside, so I decided to take a walk.” It sounded ridiculous; I thought to myself, I had no idea why the man was so mad that I had sneaked out.

Couldn’t he at least begrudge me or humor me from time to time? I was /dying/.

Instead, Snape did the last thing I could possibly think of. “You were just waiting for us to be out of Hogwarts, waiting for a chance to flaunt your arrogance around and use the illness as an excuse, well guess what Potter? That is not going to happen here.” Severus spat out venomously, causing me to flinch. I narrowed my eyes, my nails were painfully digging into the palms of my hands, as I desperately tried to think of an appropriate come back.

“Don’t be mean to me! I just needed to see the…” I stuttered. I suddenly felt vulnerable and small, exactly the way I would have felt in the man’s class as a child. I was being bullied.

“/See/ what exactly? The constant and repetitive motion of the water?” he sneered. I defiantly kept my mouth shut in response.

“Get back inside the house now.” He growled out tiredly. Probably too exhausted to continue.

I grudgingly sniffed, trying to stomp past him. The damn duvet kept getting caught under my feet every few steps, causing me to limp.

As we turned to walk to the cottage, the man’s rambling continued, though even I could tell it was halfhearted. “First with that rowdy owl, and now with sneaking out, what’s next to cursing your teacher Potter? To think that I stayed up all night to replenish the potion stock for a brat who clearly doesn’t deserve such privileges.”

I huffed, not looking back at him. “I’m not talking to you Snape; you’re just pissed off ‘because you didn’t get to nap.” My wet feet were now covered in sand, now it just made me itchy and uncomfortable, making me realize how I tried I still was.

“Get. Going. Potter.” His glare was enough to get me moving again.

“You’re being unfair and you know it.” I mumbled.

“Potter.”

“Sir.” I gritted out. “You…”

Snape interrupted me with snarl. “No Potter, I’m going to stop you right there, I’m dealing with you tomorrow, but rest assured; there wouldn’t be any midnight getaways for you anymore.” I finally stopped, about two feet away from the porch, and threw a disgusted glare at my Professor.

I opened my mouth a few times, looking for the right words. “Well, if you didn’t have to be an utter…”

“Do not finish that sentence…” he warned, but I did it anyways.

“…Dick!” I chewed out. “Then I wouldn’t have to sneak out to watch the sea in the middle of the night.”

The man charged and roughly seized me by my wrist, his fingers forcefully stopping me from storming off.

When he spoke, his tone was deadly calm, but his bloodshot eyes cut into my frightened gaze. “You do not talk back to me. You will not…” he gave me a rough shake. “Take your cheek to your authority like that Potter, I am your teacher, I deserve the outmost respect for putting up with an invalid like you. You will /not/ insult me like that again when I /order/ you to stay in your bed in the middle of the night. Where you should be.”

I opened my mouth to retort but he caught me off again. “Close. Your. Mouth. An adult is talking, you sneak out from the house again, and you will be back at Hogwarts before you could even think of a comeback.” He let go of my throbbing hand but I could already feel it bruise; that’s what chemo does to your body, it wrecks your immune system and along comes the constant scarring, unexplained bruises or questionable red rashes along with the additional crap.

He followed me like a hawk as I grudgingly made my way to the door; I knew that I had overstepped my boundaries by cursing the man and arguing with him, but I adamantly believed that he also didn’t have the right to speak to me like that.

He didn’t check to see if I have gone back to my room, but I heard him shuffling around in the living room, moving furniture or some other shit like that, I balled up the soaked duvet and chugged it at the bathroom door before retreating to my room with a pout.

I had no idea what the man had in mind for me then, but somewhere down the line, I’m glad that I didn’t, sure, Sev apologized a few months later and we laughed it off as a hilarious joke, but oh boy, was I in for a treat after pissing on the man as severely as I had on my first night.