Harry had accepted all the strange liquids that the funny lady had told him to drink. Some of them tasted pretty gross, but he had had worse things before. She offered him one more potion. This one, she told him, that it was important that he finish it all. She held it in front of his lips and helped him to sit up. He reached for the cup to take it from her and try to finish this one on his own. He could handle a cup full of liquid by himself after all; he might have been a little boy, but he wasn’t a baby.
Madame Pomfrey held the cup just out of his reach and gently chided him. “Let me do the work, Harry. You need to save what little strength you have left in you so you can get better.”
Harry was about to ask her how she had known his name, because he was sure that he hadn’t told her anything about himself, but he didn’t say anything. She’d probably just snap at him to shut it like Aunt Petunia always had, so what was the point? He swallowed the potion without protesting. Something about what she had said was bothering him. She said he needed to get better, but Harry hadn’t realized that he was sick. The only reason that his stomach had gotten upset in his mind was because he had gotten so excited over clean water.
The small boy yawned as a sudden wave of sleepiness overcame him. He listened to Madame Pomfrey as she hummed something a bit gentler than the tune he’d heard earlier. Perhaps it was a lullaby, but he couldn’t be sure since he’d never had one sung to him before in his life. His limbs felt more like they had heavy stones beneath his skin than bones. For a brief period Harry fought to keep his eyes open, but he let them fall closed when they too felt like they had been heavily weighted. The last thing he remembered was something warm and wet lapping away gently at his raw fingertips.
****
After Snape had finished with Dumbledore, he had gone to his quarters. He’d fully intended to fix himself that stiff drink now, but something gnawed away at him. This whole situation was giving him a nasty headache. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose hard for a moment and then went to his personal stock of potions to find something to cure himself. He opened his little cupboard and found every healing potion except for the one that he wanted. He cursed under his breath and thought about brewing something from scratch. How had his stocks gotten so low in the first place? He slammed the cupboard door shut with a scowl. Finally Snape decided that he hadn’t the patience to brew a potion for himself fresh. Surely Madame Pomfrey would lend him a dose.
Snape entered the medical ward without a sound. Madame Pomfrey didn’t look up at him as she tended to Potter, but Snape had a feeling that she knew he was there. Without so much as scuffing his boots on the floor Snape drew closer to them.
“He’s lucky that you found him when you did, Severus,” Madame Pomfrey said quietly as she gently applied a creamy looking slave to each one of Potter’s tiny, clean fingertips.
Snape recalled the mess of a boy that he’d brought to Pomfrey only a short while ago. The boy was still sickly looking, but he was clean. Snape could smell the lavender coming from the boy’s pale skin, and the disgusting rat’s nest of black hair looked better as well. His hair was still as wild as ever on his small head, but at least he didn’t look like he was going to spread lice around the school grounds. The muggle shirt was gone now too. In its place Potter had been dressed in dark purple robes made from a velvety material. The little crescent moons that decorated the clothing were a subtle luminescent silver instead of looking like cheap tinsel from a muggle holiday decoration.
Snape noted the lax expression on Potter’s face as he slept. The boy drew in calm, regular breaths even while Madame Pomfrey worked on his hands. Snape would have expected the boy to be rather sore and pain normally woke anyone up out of a natural sleep. “You’ve drugged him?”
Pomfrey didn’t even look up as she started to bandage Harry’s hands to protect them from further injury. “Only a mild calming potion. His body did the rest. It is best for him to sleep and recover his strength.”
“Indeed,” Snape said quietly. “When he wakes, inform me.”
“All right. If that’s what you would like.”
“It is,” he replied tersely before turning away from her in a swish of robes. Snape hadn’t asked her for a potion, even though that had been the reason for his trip to the ward. This entire situation seemed to have him all out of sorts. Perhaps a few hours of sleep would cure his headache; he’d have ample time with the boy out like he was. Snape ignored the thudding sensation in his head and went to his room.
******
When Harry woke he fully expected to be back in the cupboard at home. He’d had the weirdest dream! All about being fed medicine, of a soft bed, a lady humming to him softly and a grim figure dressed in black clothes. Wait... he was still in the bed from his dream? Harry blinked as he stared at his hands. Someone had bandaged him up nicely.
With his awkward little hands he flicked aside the blanket that had been covering him and saw that he was... wearing a purple dress covered in little silver moons. Where in the heck were his real clothes? He couldn’t go home wearing this!
Harry glanced around for his shirt. It wasn’t anywhere in sight. Uncle Vernon would be very cross with him if he found out that Harry had misplaced it. Harry carefully leaned over the side of the bed to look beneath it to see if perhaps his shirt had fallen on the floor. Nope, just a clean floor. Harry blew out a frustrated sigh. That had been his best shirt too!
Madame Pomfrey walked into the room and smiled at Harry; he smiled back, but only to be polite. He wasn’t happy at all right now. She crossed over to him and palmed his forehead to feel for signs of a fever, and when she seemed satisfied that Harry was all right she sat on the bed beside him. Harry stared at a moon on his robes and then looked up at Pomfrey.
“Why am I dressed like this?” He tried to pinch a bit of the soft fabric between his hand and show it to her for emphasis, but it was too difficult with his hands all wrapped up like they were in white winter mittens.
“I thought you should like something that fit you and was clean,” she answered quietly.
“But I’m not a girl!” Harry exclaimed.
Madame Pomfrey nearly burst out laughing. “Why I know that, Dear.”
“Doesn’t look like it to me. Boys don’t usually wear dresses.”
“Harry, that is not a dress. Those are robes. Fine robes for a young wizard.”
“I’m not a wizard. I’m just Harry. Can I have my shirt back now?”
Harry frowned when she looked away from him. “I’m afraid that I don’t have it.”
He felt his chest tighten. He was going to be in so much trouble later! “But... but that was mine! What did you do with it?”
“Don’t get upset, Harry,” she said calmly. “I’m sure you can get another shirt. A better one even.”
No! She wasn’t getting off that easily. He wouldn’t be soothed with empty promises. “I don’t want another shirt! I want the one my family gave to me! I want it back! If they find out I’ve lost it...” Harry trailed off and flexed his sore fingers in his bandages. With his hands bound like they were it wasn’t possible to make tight fists like he wanted to.
Harry stiffened as he spotted a dark silhouette in the doorway. He watched in silence as the figure came closer. He swallowed self-consciously when dark eyes scanned him up and down. “Finished with your little fit, Potter?”
Harry didn’t think that was a question that he should answer aloud, so he stared down at his robes, focusing on one of the pretty moons.
“I would think that you would be glad to be rid of that poor excuse for clothing that those muggles gave to you.”
He didn’t know what in the world a muggle was, but he had a fair idea that it wasn’t something nice. He glared up at Snape, trying to force his lip to stop quivering, but he was so upset that it was not listening to him.
“Your only response is to pout?”
“I don’t care!” Harry shouted at him. “I want to go home!”
Snape scoffed at that. “You wish to go back? Potter, you may not have realized it, but those muggles left you. They left you there to die. They were not going to come back for you.”
No. They wouldn’t. They were his family. “Liar!” Harry yelled. “They wouldn’t just leave! They can’t!” He was not going to cry in front of these people. He blinked quickly as his vision filled with tears and blurred. “Uncle Vernon said that he would come back for me!”
“The muggle lied to you, boy. The sooner you realize that you’re better off without them, the easier things will become for you,” Snape said cooly.
“Don’t call him that.” Tears were slipping easily down his cheeks now, but he found that he didn’t care.
“Severus, please. It will do him no good to be so worked up about things,” Madame Pomfrey said quietly. Harry had forgotten that she was still there at his bedside.
“The boy must face the truth,” Snape replied.
“I don’t believe you!” Harry spat. His little body was shaking with anger and his chest heaved with each breath he pulled in through his mouth. Breathing through his nose didn’t seem to give him enough air at the moment.
Snape crouched down low, so that he was at eye level with Harry. He leaned in closed so that Harry could feel Snape’s warm breaths on his face. When Harry pulled back away Snape just closed in the space between them, so that all Harry could do was stare into those cold, black eyes. He felt a shiver of fear pierce through his anger for a moment as Snape glared at him. “It does not matter if you do not believe me. You will come to see things my way in time, Potter.” He glanced briefly at Madame Pomfrey and then stormed out of the room.
Harry took in great gasping breaths. Madame Pomfrey was sitting him up to rub his back, and at first he wanted to pull away from her, but she wouldn’t allow it. She murmured meaningless words to Harry to comfort him.
“It’s not true!” Harry breathed out raggedly. “They. They couldn’t just... go. I. We. We’re family.” He huddled into Pomfrey’s warm form and cried. She held him gently and told him that things would be all right, but she never mentioned his relatives and she made no comment about Snape. So... she thought Snape was right about his family too. She thought they hated him. She probably thought they were muggles too.
Why would they hate me? All I’ve ever done is tried to make them happy. To make them love me.
Madame Pomfrey had sat with him for a while until he had settled down. He was still hiccuping as he sobbed, but he was beginning to wear down. Harry watched with puffy eyes as Madame Pomfrey stood up and poured water into a glass. She helped him drink it and then settled him down into the covers.
Harry halfheartedly rubbed at his eye with his fist and yawned. He was ready to sleep again and he’d only just woken up. His last thought before slipping into sleep was that it might have been nice to have something to hold onto. Like one of the many stuffed animals Dudley had, but never let Harry touch. Yeah, that would have made it easier to rest, but he wasn’t going to mention it to anyone.
*******
With great care Harry folded each shirt and pair of trousers that Dudley had in his drawers so that it could all be packed up neatly. All of Dudley’s toys and books had been put into boxes already. Even the broken toys and the ones he didn’t like were making the trip with him. Harry wondered why Uncle Vernon told him to pack it all up for a simple vacation, but his Uncle ought to know better than he, so Harry didn’t bother asking. Maybe it was going to be a really big trip, and they needed everything to come with them.
As Harry folded a large forest green shirt, Dudley barked at him. “Don’t pack that one. I hate it.”
Harry gently set the shirt to the side and started to pack the rest of Dudley’s things. “You can keep that shirt, Potter. I won’t wear it no matter what mum says.”
As the last of the packages were carried to the car and the furniture was loaded into a truck Harry stood in the doorway and watched as he fingered the hem of his “new” shirt. He really wanted to go too. A vacation sounded like an awfully fun thing. Aunt Petunia came up behind Harry and tapped him roughly on the shoulder. “Fill this with water from the tap. Be sure you fill it all the way up, Potter.”
Harry took the plastic pitcher and went to the bathroom to fill it with water from the tub. That faucet was easiest for him to reach. Harry filled the pitcher as full as he could without it spilling over and carefully carried it out of the bathroom.
“That water goes in the cupboard,” Petunia snapped pointing a bony finger toward the cupboard that served as Harry’s bedroom.
He nodded and carried the water into the cupboard and set it down carefully on the floor. When he moved to exit Vernon blocked his path. The fat man was holding a plate of French bread... the kind with a thick crust. Harry felt his mouth start to water at the sight; he almost never got to eat bread like that, and he found that even when it was a bit stale it was better than the kind that came in a bag. Vernon thrust the plate of bread at the boy and then shoved a red bucket into the small space with him.
“Uncle?” Harry questioned with a little smile.
“Potter,” Vernon glared down at the little boy. “I’ll come back for you in a day or so. When I come back if I find that you’ve tried to get out of this cupboard, you’ll regret it.”
Harry nodded quietly. He was going to get to go on vacation too! He would have to be extra careful to do as Vernon said, so that he wouldn’t get left behind when Vernon came back to check on him. Willingly Harry stepped back from the cupboard door and glanced around at the things that had been left with him. Just a few bottles of wood oil and an open bag of dog food for when Aunt Marge would come over to stay. He didn’t flinch when the door slammed shut and the vent was closed, instead he smiled to himself. This was one of the best days of his life.