For a brief time a feeling of uncertainty coursed through Professor Snape. Had he given the potion sufficient time to absorb the poison in Potter’s system? Severus shook his head as he passed through the door to Potter’s chamber. Of course he’d done everything correctly. He knew his potions; he certainly knew what he was doing. Whatever was not right with the Potter boy it was of no fault of Snape’s. This was Potter’s fault if there was anyone to be blamed for anything.

As Snape drew closer to Harry he could plainly see pain and fear etched in the young wizard’s face. There was nothing to physically harm him within the chamber; the pain was from within. The boy must have been dreaming. From the way that he thrashed about in his blanket it was a very vivid nightmare. Harry had trapped himself in the snarled jumble of what had once been his blanket. He thrashed like a fish caught in a net.

Snape groaned in displeasure as he crossed the room to attempt to free Harry from the bonds of his blanket. Harry gave a sharp cry of pain as Snape reached to tug at the mess of blanket and boy. Snape nearly flinched with surprise at the suddenness of Harry’s outburst. He gave the boy a glare of contempt and proceeded to unravel the young man from his prison of bedding.

Harry suddenly went very quiet, very still. Snape had just managed to free the young man from the blanket, and he looked at Harry with confusion. What was the matter with him now? The boy’s breathing became sharp, almost labored. There was a sheen of new sweat on his pale forehead, and it was a moment of distinct silence that jarred Snape’s reasoning to understanding. Harry’s body went rigid for a moment; there was no time to move away.

The boy seemed to come alert for an instant; he looked about with wide eyes not seeing a thing. Seconds later he sat up halfway in the sudden jerk of a heave, and retched all down the front of Professor Snape’s clean, black robes. Once he’d finished the deed the boy’s body went slack and he dropped lifelessly back to the cold dungeon floor with a soft moan.

Snape swore between clenched teeth at the boy, and muttered a cleaning spell over the both of them. Potter seemed to have calmed down; he did not stir when Snape palmed his forehead. Snape made a dissatisfied face and moved his hand quickly to the boy’s flushed cheek. For human flesh it was very hot to the touch.

Potter had a very high fever.

Some of the resentment in Snape’s eyes cooled; he could be angry with the boy later. Snape spread the blanket Potter had been using out neatly on the dungeon floor. In a smooth movement he placed the boy on top of the blanket. Snape summoned a basin of cool water and a washcloth with his wand. With unexpected gentleness Snape began to wash Harry’s forehead in an attempt to calm his fever.

It was hours later when Harry finally stirred to life. The young Gryffindor was quite startled to find Professor Snape perched on a stool near him. Snape was leaning his back against the prison wall, and dozing quite contently.

Snape seemed to sense Harry’s new alertness, and the Professor calmly opened his eyes to meet the student’s gaze. Snape met Harry’s dizzy eyes with surprising steadiness. Snape looked as though he’d never drifted off for a moment. Harry wondered briefly how Snape managed such alertness; a pulse in his head made him wince and he quickly lost his train of thought.

“You’re awake at last, Potter,” Snape commented coolly as he rose from his stool and prowled over to Harry’s side. “How are you feeling?” Snape asked softly as he rewetted the cloth for Harry’s forehead.

Harry nearly shied away when Snape reached over to replace the fresh cloth on his forehead. He managed to keep himself steady, and with a dry swallow he attempted to make his answer.

“I’m very tired, sir.”

“Well, I can’t say that I’m surprised. I’ve managed to bring your fever down to a more acceptable level, but it is yet to break. Are you thirsty, Potter?”

Before Harry could make a reply either way Snape had conjured a goblet filled with cool water. Snape helped Harry to take a few small sips of the liquid, and much like the last time the water goblet disappeared before Harry had finished with it.

“Are you shivering, Potter?”

The boy was not only visibly shivering; his teeth were chattering. He acted as though it was cold enough to drop snow in the chamber. It was quite cool in the chamber, but not nearly cool enough to provoke such a response from the young man. Harry nodded in unspoken reply to Snape’s question, and silently wished for another blanket to wrap around himself. Being cold had never been so unpleasant.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer with the chills for a while longer, Potter. I can give you a potion to help with the fever, but it will not help matters if you cover yourself in blankets.”

Harry gave Snape a dirty look but he nodded; he understood. Snape reached into his robes and withdrew a small vial. Snape helped Harry to take the potion, and afterwards Harry lay back on his blanket. Harry closed his eyes and shivered unhappily. The boy choked back a whimper of misery as Snape started to delicately swab Harry’s face and arms with a newly conjured washcloth. Even though the water Snape had filled the basin with was room temperature it felt like ice water against Harry’s feverish skin.

There was no way to ignore the unpleasant sensations that attacked him from within his body and from without. Every muscle ached, and every joint hurt. Snape washing his arms and face with cool water only seemed to intensify the nasty feelings. He hoped that Snape’s potion would kick in soon and ease some of his discomfort. Harry closed his eyes tighter, and tried to force himself to go to sleep thinking of warm, soothing things.