When Harry woke he could feel a thick veil clouding his thoughts. It felt as though he had woken up during the deepest part of sleep and was meant to go back under. He did not feel pain, only disconnection from everything. Fingers and toes buzzed and he had a strange floating sensation beneath him. The bed beneath his body seemed to be made of warm air instead of an actual mattress.
Harry blinked as he tried to clear his head. He could hear a familiar voice in a low tone, but he could not translate the words that were spoken. The quiet voice was comforting and his body defied his will as he was taken over by sleep once more.
This time he would not fall back asleep. He wanted to be aware of what was going on. If he was at Hogwarts, even if he was in the hospital wing, he wanted to be able to see and participate in his recovery.
It took effort to force his eyes open. Soft halos of light surrounded everything, and Harry felt as though he was in a dream unable to wake. He did not like this feeling. He tried to lift his hand to rub his eyes and found his limbs to be stiff and weary. He was still very tired, but he didn’t care. He had to know what was going on.
He struggled fearfully as a hand reached down and helped him to sit up, when he realized that this person did not intend him harm he relaxed. He felt a cup pressed to his lips and drank. It was some kind of warm cider. It was spicy and sweet in his dry mouth. He drank unresistingly. The warmth from the cider made him feel even more mellow. He didn’t want to sleep anymore, and he tried to resist when the hands eased him back against the pillows.
For several hours Harry was in and out. There was no clarity when he was awake and only nothingness when he slept.
At last the cloud over his mind was fading away. Harry opened his eyes and was pleased to find that he felt much better. His muscles still ached, and his face was still tender, but he felt like he could function again. Once he realized that his mind had been returned to him he saw that he was in unfamiliar surroundings. This was neither Hogwarts nor the Dursley’s home. Where in Merlin’s name had Snape taken him?
Fine cherry-wood furniture decorated the room. The carpet was a plush burgundy that seemed to want to swallow the furniture. The soft yellow glow from the lantern on his night stand told him where his glasses were and he reached over and picked them up.
His hands trembled as he slipped on his spectacles. Harry felt terribly weak, and he wondered if it was caused by the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of the Dursleys or by the potion that Snape had fed him earlier. As he sat up slowly he felt a trickle of dizziness and in a few seconds it had cleared away.
Harry jumped in surprise when he saw that Snape had been standing in the doorway for the past several minutes.
“Nervous, Mr. Potter? I cannot see why. You are on a ground level room; there are no stairs to fall from.”
Harry tried to act like he didn’t hear the twist in Snape’s voice.
“While you were asleep Madame Pomfrey came by to assess your injuries. I have her assurances that any injuries you have are for the most part superficial. Apparently your relatives seem to lack conviction. Laziness runs in the family does it not?”
Harry closed his eyes he wasn’t listening to his teacher even if he was right about the Durlseys. They were lazy, but Harry never had been. He’d never been given a chance to be lazy although his uncle had often said that he was a prime example. He wondered what it would feel like to be lazy for a little while and not fear being punished for it.
“I’ve been asked to look after you for a while,” Snape said quietly.
Harry felt the blood drain from his face, and he smiled in disbelief. “Wonderful,” he said before he could stop the word from slipping between his teeth.
“I can assure you, Potter, that if it were not for the direct order from Dumbledore I would have left you with your relatives. Perhaps they are wrong to treat you the way that they do, but they are your family. You should not run from them.”
“I didn’t ask you to take me from them, and you don’t know who they really are,” Harry answered. Harry felt his stomach clench in anger. He should stay with the Durlseys only because they were blood relatives? They hated him, not even the blood shared between them could change that, and he would not feel guilty because of Snape’s comments.
Snape stood quiet, he watched Harry from the doorway and waited. His black eyes showed no inclination toward sympathy or even mercy. As Harry looked further he couldn’t even see anger, there was only emptiness. Harry wondered if that was all Snape was, or if that was all Snape would allow him to see.
Harry was thankful when Snape left and closed the door softly behind him. Harry felt anger and doubt in response to Snape’s words. Had he deserved what he’d gotten? Did he deserve it still? Harry could not help the frustration that he felt and the tears that followed were unwelcome, but unstoppable.