At last Harry had drifted into a comfortable state of sleep. He didn’t notice the various aches his body felt; he was numb to the feeling of his fever. This was a dreamless state of bliss. One that he hoped would not end soon.

“Potter,” Snape whispered as he shook Harry by the shoulder.

Harry groaned. Go Away! As luck would have it Snape’s timing was impeccable. He would want Harry to wake just when he’d been sleeping comfortably.

“Potter, wake up. You need to drink this,” Snape spoke as he lifted the boy’s head and held the goblet to his lips.

Harry was vaguely aware of the cup being pressed to his mouth. He allowed some of the contents of the cup to dribble into his mouth. The liquid touched his tongue, and he knew the taste instantly. Harry’s eyes went wide; he pulled back roughly from the cup spilling some of the liquid down the front of his robes.

Snape glared at the boy. “Now look at what you’ve done. You’ve gone and spilled it. You’ll pay for that you little…”

“Potter, is there something the matter?” Snape’s voice made Harry start.

Harry didn’t know what was going on; he shook his head in answer.

“Come on then. You need to finish this.”

Harry swallow nervously. “What is it?”

“Honestly, Potter,” Snape rolled his eyes and moved the cup towards Harry’s lips. The boy pulled back. “It’s for your fever. Just water. That’s all.”

Harry looked into the goblet Snape offered. It was filled with water. Nothing else. Harry felt silly. He knew Snape was trying to help. Why would Snape want to harm him? But then the little voice in his head reminded him; He does hate you. You remember that, right?

“I- I’m not very thirsty, Professor,” Harry stammered as he tried to pretend that he was falling back to sleep. If Snape left him alone long enough, he would go back to sleep for real.

“Potter, I never said that you had a choice in this matter. Drink the water, now,” Snape pressed the cup to Harry’s lips, and gave the boy an expectant glare.

Harry glanced at Snape, and back at the goblet. It did look like simple water in the cup. It was probably safe. Harry swallowed his feeling of apprehension, and took a small sip.

The cool water in his mouth reminded him how thirsty he really was, and he drank as much as Snape would allow. Snape let him drain the goblet completely. For the first time in a long while Harry felt satisfied; he wasn’t thirsty.

It was good not to be thirsty. It was nice. Harry drifted back to sleep unaware of the new droplets of sweat collecting on his forehead, and the warmth pooling in the palms of his hands.

Snape palmed Harry’s forehead. It was hot, again. The potion was wearing off. The fever was returning. Snape wished the boy would hurry up and get well so he could get rid of him. With an irritated growl Severus reached into his cloak for another potion that would temporarily quell the boy’s fever.

Harry didn’t want to wake this time. Bloody GO AWAY! Harry listened to Snape’s callous tone with indifference. He was half asleep, and he wanted to be fully asleep. He allowed Snape to feed him the potion as a way to get the man to leave him alone. Within a few moments, Harry drifted into nothingness again.

“Welcome back Mr. Potter. Feeling any better?” Snape asked quietly as he helped the boy to sit up and offered Harry a cup of a strange looking tea.

Harry paused. He did feel better, a lot better. Harry took the cup of tea and looked into it. It was a creamy green color; it smelled strongly of mint leaves. Harry gave the drink a sniff and looked over at Snape. Snape had stalked over to his stool and taken a seat. He didn’t appear to be leaving anytime soon.

“It’s mint. I’m quite sure even you could have guessed that. It won’t upset your stomach. You need to have something else besides potions and water.”

Harry nodded and stared absently into the cup. He took a sip. It was not too hot, and pleasantly sweet.

“This is very good, Professor,” Harry stated taking another, braver drink from the cup.

A hint of a smile crossed Snape’s face. “I know it is.”

Harry ignored Snape and concentrated on the tea in his hands. It left a pleasing, cool taste in his mouth, and a warm, comforting feeling in his belly.

“Can I ask you a question, Professor?” Harry asked briefly looking at Snape and then back to the tea in his cup.

“I suppose. If you must,” Snape spat. He wanted to curse Potter with a silencing charm just for good measure, but he held the desire in check.

“Why am I in this prison?”

Snape smiled in amusement, and Harry caught the glint of the Professor’s imperfect teeth. The man still looked frightening even with a friendly expression on his face. The weak smile quickly died as the man gave his answer.

“I assure you that it was a simple matter of convenience, Potter. Do you honestly expect me to have to venture to Gryffindor tower every time you need a potion, or a drink of water? No, it is much easier to tend to you here; where the potions are close at hand. Then there is the fact that you could wander off somewhere if left unattended. Unlike Dumbledore I do not trust you to take care of yourself. This is especially true while you are not feeling well. I for one do not want to have to wander into the Forbidden Forest to look for you if you were to go wandering about. I am here to cure you; not to make you comfortable and make more work for myself,” Snape sneered at the boy. Potter really did look a lot better. Perhaps they would not have to stay as long as he had originally thought.

Of course, wouldn’t want to inconvenience you, Professor Snape. Harry licked his lips, and set his now empty cup on the dungeon floor.

“Now I want to ask you a question, Potter,” Snape said as he leaned back against the wall and folded his arms tucking his hands into the folds of his robes.

Harry nodded.

“What were you dreaming about last night?” Snape asked, his tone lacking the usual bite. The man actually sounded interested in hearing Harry’s reply.

Harry froze when he heard the words. He felt sick again. The blood drained quickly from his face, and his fingertips buzzed annoyingly. Harry shrugged and gave Snape a withering smile. He tried to dismiss the man with a question of his own. “What makes you think I was dreaming, Professor?”

Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry. “One does not scream his vocal cords raw because he is having a dreamless night. The nightmare, what was it about?”

“I thought you already knew that, sir.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at the boy. He was not in the mood for a dance of conversation, and in particular not with Potter. “Please enlighten me, Potter.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, sir.”

“Potter, this will not go away if you ignore it. Nor will I. I’m sure that you would rather speak of your own free will. If not, then I shall be forced to resort to less pleasant methods of learning what I wish to know,” Snape stared at Harry, and watched the boy as he struggled to come to a decision.

The young wizard met Snape’s stare and Harry shook his head. “I’m not talking about it with you.”

Snape gave Harry a cold look, and quickly stood. Before Harry could say anything more Snape had stormed from the chamber. The angry sound of the door as it slammed shut made Harry flinch. For a moment he was almost ready to have second thoughts… almost.