“Lovebug, I'm home!” Sirius yelled out enthusiastically as he slammed the door shut. Snape absolutely hated it when Sirius jokingly referred to him in some sort of affectionate term such as that, which only made Sirius do it more frequently.

“Sevvy, did you miss me?” Sirius stood in the middle of the foyer with a frown. Where was everyone? The house was deadly quiet, except for a soft meow from Black, who was rubbing up against Sirius's ankle. “Sevvy?” Sirius yelled out, louder, in a more confused tone.

Severus appeared at the top of the staircase, glowering down at Sirius with a frustrated and annoyed look. “Could you quiet down?” he hissed. “Harry is sick and resting and does not need a disturbance from you!” He continued to glare at Sirius. “Did you refer to me as lovebug, Black?”

“I was just kidding,” Sirius said defensively, jogging up the stairs. “Harry's sick? How did he get sick?”

“I assume it was from the basket Mrs. Hammond gave us earlier,” Severus replied. “It couldn't have been that, however, since Harry didn't eat enough to get a stomach ache.”

Severus followed Sirius into Harry's room. The boy lay in bed with the blankets pulled up to his chin. He tried to sleep, though he looked fitful.

“What did Harry eat?” Sirius asked softly.

Severus looked thoughtful as he sat down on the edge of Harry's bed, resting the back of his hand against Harry's forehead. He didn't seem to have too much of a fever, which was a good thing.

“The scotch eggs, some bacon, perhaps a biscuit—”

“Wait, did you say the scotch eggs?” Sirius said, his eyes widening. “Harry ate the scotch eggs? After we got that basket… what… four days ago? You know how quickly those things go bad. Alex's anyway, whatever he does to them.”

“Alex's scotch eggs are fine,” Severus said, scowling.

Sirius groaned in frustration. “No one ever orders the scotch egg at that place. As soon as you eat it, it always does something to your stomach—I'm telling you this from experience. You get a stomach ache, although I never did vomit.” Sirius shook his head. “Don't you remember? I told Alex to stop making them after it first happened to me.”

“All right, I remember the incident with you and that scotch egg, but you never told Alex to stop making them.”

“Yes I did,” Sirius argued. “The day after. I went there and I told him that his scotch egg made me sick.”

“You were going to Alex that, but you forgot,” Severus pointed out in annoyance. “Do not argue with me. I know I'm correct.”

Sirius stayed quiet. “Ohhh… that's right… I never did tell Alex that.”

“Sev'rus?” Harry mumbled sleepily, groaning as he turned around to squint at them. “My glasses?”

“Right here,” Severus said softly, adjusting Harry's glasses onto his nose. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Harry murmured. “Did I get sick? I forget. I have a rotten taste in my mouth.”

“You did. Do you feel sick again?”

Harry tried to shake his head, but found it was a horrible idea. “No.”

“You ate the scotch egg, Harry,” Sirius said from the doorway. “The same thing happened to me. I really don't know what they do to that scotch egg, but every time I order it it's always foul.”

Harry yawned. “You kept ordering it?”

“I thought maybe the first time was just… y'know, just a one time thing. Then I ordered it another time I was there and the same thing happened,” Sirius explained.

“Harry,” Severus said in the same soft voice. He swept Harry's bangs off his forehead with his hand. “Just call if you need us. Keep resting.”

“'Kay,” Harry said, turning over on his side again.

Severus quietly left the bedroom with Sirius trailing close behind him. “I'll be just next door to Harry in case he needs me,” Severus said distractedly. “Keep an eye on him if you can.”

Sirius nodded. “Will do, lovebug.”

Severus paused at his doorway, turning his head around to shoot Sirius a dark glare. “You will restrain yourself from referring to me as your lovebug, Black, no matter how much you wish it were true.”

Sirius's mouth fell open. Severus did know what to say when he wanted something to stop, didn't he? Sirius thought, glaring silently at Severus as he walked into the room. Now because of that comment, there was no way he'd ever call him 'lovebug'.

There were, however, other names Sirius could come up with to irritate the potions master….

--

It had been an hour or two that had went by when Severus was startled out of his thoughts by a sudden figure in the doorway. Severus noticed that it was Harry. He looked more pale than he had earlier. His lips had lost their pinkish color.

“I still don't feel good,” came the moan from Harry, who had a blanket across his shoulders and the cup of water in his hands.

“Come sit down,” Severus invited, which Harry gratefully did. “Do you feel sick again? I see you found the water I set on the table in your room for you.”

“A little. I'm just warm and tired, and yes I did, thank you,” Harry answered. He groaned. “I don't like being sick.”

“Nobody does,” Severus said. “Why don't you try getting some more sleep?”

Harry lay his head against the pillow on Severus's bed and took the blanket off his shoulders, placing it across him. Severus took the water from Harry and put it on the nightstand. He didn't answer Severus's question, but instead said, “I didn't like being alone. I was always alone when I was sick—you don't mind if I'm here, do you?”

Severus shook his head. “Not at all.”

Harry mumbled something under his breath, but it was incoherent to Severus. For a second, the Professor had thought that Harry had just called him “Daddy”—but that was probably just wishful thinking.

He said Harry's name softly, but Harry, however, didn't answer. Severus immediately knew that the child beside him was asleep, though Harry had his back to him. Reaching over, Severus turned off the light, drenching the whole room in darkness.

--

Harry felt immensely better the next morning after he woke up, finding himself curled up in Severus's bed with Severus asleep next to him. Had he come in here last night? He must have, though he couldn't exactly remember….

“You're awake.”

Harry jumped at Severus's voice. He turned his head to find the Potions Master wide awake, as if he had been for the longest time.

“So are you. I thought you were still sleeping.”

Severus shook his head. “I was resting my eyes. I've been awake for quite a while now, but I couldn't move considering you fell asleep on my arm, and I figured if I tried to get up I'd wake you, so I waited. How are you feeling today?”

“Fine,” Harry replied. “I have a bit of a sore throat though. Do sore throats come along with bad scotch eggs?”

“Not usually,” Severus murmured. “Here, let me get you something for that.”

Harry waited patiently until Severus returned. He eyed the miniature cup and spoon that Severus had in his hand, and Harry immediately knew what it was. He made a face as he asked, “What's that?” Just to make sure it was what he thought it was.

Severus glanced down. “This? It's medicine, Harry.”

Harry clamped his lips shut as Severus drew closer. He vigorously shook his head as Severus poured the bit of syrupy medicine onto the spoon, and tried to give it to Harry. Harry stubbornly kept his mouth shut tight.

Severus looked annoyed as he poured the medicine that was on the spoon back into the bottle. “I'm not going to try to give this to you forever. This'll help your sore throat.”

Still pinching his lips together, Harry shook his head.

“Don't look as if I'm going to poison you. I'm sure it tastes… quite good.”

Harry relaxed his lips as he repeated, “Quite good? It looks disgusting.”

“Doesn't all medicine? It smells just like grapes, or oranges—some fruit like that anyway. Open your mouth Harry, it's not going to hurt you.”

Harry shook his head, reluctantly parting his lips so he'd be able to say, “I'll only take it if you try it first.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “I'm not taking this medicine. I'm not the one who has an upset stomach and a sore throat.”

“I just want to know if it tastes good,” Harry said. “And I don't have an upset stomach anymore. Can't you just… try a little bit?”

“Absolutely not,” Severus said, scowling.

Harry gave his shoulders a shrug. “Then I won't take it if you won't try it first and tell me that it tastes good.” He coughed. “I—I bet you're not going to taste it first because it's disgusting, just like I said it was.”

Severus sat down on the bed, near Harry. He held the spoon near the top of the bottle and slowly tipped it, until just the right amount of the liquid filled the spoon. But Harry still refused to open his mouth.

“Didn't you say that you're supposed to be thirteen?” Severus questioned, agitated. “You're old enough to take medicine without a fuss; instead you're acting like a five-year-old, Harry.”

Harry frowned, glancing down at his hands. “I don't like medicine. One time, when I was younger, Dudley got a hold of all the medicines that the Dursleys had kept for when Dudley was sick with a cold or the flu. He put them in a cup and told me that it was just juice. I only took a sip, but it was horrible.”

“This is only a spoonful, Harry,” Severus said gently. “Wouldn't you rather be rid of this? You're still looking pale.”

Harry was exhausted. His eyes drifted from Severus back down to his hands, which he had suddenly become fascinated with. Maybe if he just showed Severus how much he didn't want to take the medicine, the Potions Master would finally give up and let it be.

Severus let out a long sigh. Harry looked up as he thought that his plan had worked, and that Severus was going to give up.

“Don't look so hopeful,” Severus said. “You said that you wouldn't take this medicine if I didn't try it first, correct?”

“Yes,” Harry said slowly, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Harry watched, amazed, as Severus tipped the spoon up to his lips and took a small amount in. It seemed to take forever for Severus to finally swallow the bit of medicine, and Harry tried to contain his laugh at Severus's sour expression. Harry thought his laugh was going to slip, but instead of a laugh coming out, it was a cough.

“All right,” Severus said, scowling at the taste of the medicine in his mouth. He let out a breath as he tipped the cup to the spoon again. “Open wide.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the medicine in his mouth, but couldn't quite seem to swallow it. It wasn't that he wouldn't, but he felt something in his stomach. Something making his stomach churn more than usual.

Harry's eyes widened as he tore the blankets off him and ran down the corridor. Severus set the medicine and spoon on the nightstand and stepped out of the bedroom to see Sirius coming up the stairs.

“Do you want me to get Harry a drink?” Sirius questioned, and then made a face. “To get the, uh, taste out of his mouth.”

“Water will be fine.”

Harry emerged from the bathroom, looking pale and shaky with a disgusted look on his face. Severus helped him back into the bedroom, where he climbed back into bed and closed his eyes.

“Sorry, I don't know why that happened, my stomach wasn't feeling sick.”

“We'll try the medicine again after, then,” Severus said. His tone suddenly became thoughtful. “Perhaps it wasn't the scotch egg that upset your stomach, Harry. It's possible you were ill in the first place.”

“Could be it,” Harry answered with a yawn following. He buried himself deeper into the blankets, saying something else, although Severus couldn't comprehend it since the boys' voice was muffled by his pillow. After that, everything went black.

--

When Harry awoke again, he saw that Severus had pulled up a chair near the bed, and had fallen asleep in it.

Harry used his elbows to help prop himself up. His stomach wasn't as upset as it had been, his throat wasn't scratchy and sore anymore, but he still wasn't quite sure if he was still warm.

He grinned at the person in the doorway before reaching over to get the cup of water beside him to take a sip. The water was warm, which caused Harry to make a face as it went down.

“Can I get you anything?” Sirius asked, his voice soft and hushed. He must've seen the sleeping Severus by Harry's bed.

“No, thanks.”

“How're you feeling now?” Sirius drew closer, and now stood by Severus.

“Much better,” Harry answered honestly, taking another sip of the water. He then noticed what Sirius had opened and now held in his hands. “I don't need that medicine anymore. My throat doesn't hurt and my stomach doesn't, either.”

“It seems as though Harry being sick doesn't interfere with his ability to talk,” Severus said, and Harry wondered how long he had been awake for.

Sirius, who was trying to put the cover back on the medicine bottle, frowned. His frown became more pronounced as he still didn't have any luck with the cover—although, whether he was frowning at the medicine bottle or Severus's comment, Harry wasn't sure.

“What's—urgghhh—wrong with talking?” Sirius asked, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he handed the bottle and the cap over to Severus. Sirius rubbed his hands, which looked red, together.

Severus gave Sirius an impatient look as he took the cap and placed it on the bottle, twisting it until it was firmly attached. Then he handed the bottle back to Sirius.

“There is nothing wrong with talking—not insistently, however; then it just becomes annoying. When a person is sick they are required to rest, not babble.”

Sirius hesitated suddenly, as he looked at the medicine bottle in his hands. For some reason that was unbeknownst to Harry, he began to try to take the cap back off again, saying, “All right I—urgh—agree that when a person's sick they should be resting, but hey, if they feel like talking a little then I'm not stopping them.”

Severus stared at Sirius, and at first Harry thought that it was merely because of what Sirius had said, but then he realized that the Professor was staring at Sirius because he was trying to take the cap off the bottle, after Severus had just put it on.

“Black, what on earth are you doing?” Severus frowned.

Sirius, his head bent as he tried to twist the cap off, lifted his head to give Severus a sheepish smile. “I forgot that the bottle was empty,” he started slowly, “and I was going to wash it out, but I can't get this… stupid… thing off!”

Severus was quiet for a moment, watching as Sirius forgot all about the bottle and began to nurse his stinging hand.

“Why in Merlin's name would you wash out a bottle that you're going to throw out anyway?”

Sirius looked back down at the bottle again, picking it up. A grin flickered across his face as he slowly backed out of the room. “Right—I'll just go get rid of this now, then.”

Severus shook his head as Sirius exited the room, and then turned back towards Harry, who was watching the scene drowsily albeit in amusement. Severus pushed the chair back and stood up. He frowned as he noticed that Harry was staring at him oddly.

“What is it?” Severus asked with a frown.

“I thought you would've left when I fell asleep,” Harry started, though he had to stop there since he couldn't think of anything else to add to that. What was he even trying to say in the first place?

Severus stared at Harry quietly for a moment or two before one simple word escaped his lips. “No.”

--

“He's feeling better?” Sirius said as he stepped into the foyer to find Severus coming down the staircase.

“I think so,” Severus replied. He stopped on one step, staring down at Sirius with a dark look.

“W—what?” Sirius asked nervously, becoming uncomfortable underneath Severus's angry gaze. He frowned.

“I know you showed Harry that funeral,” he growled, scowling. “How dare you—after you knew I said no!”

“How dare I?” Sirius repeated in disbelief. “He has a right! It was his funeral, and he wanted to!”

“You're forgetting it's not him. He's Harry Potter, Black, at least his mind still is, no matter if the body says differently.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Does that bother you? Harry Potter, son of your enemy? That only physically he's a Snape, and you know it?”

Severus looked beyond angry. “I cannot believe you even suggested such a ridiculous thing! It's unthinkable—I'd love that boy even if he was a… Black, no matter how much I dispise you.”

“Like him being my son would be such a bad thing!” Sirius spat.

“I'd pity the child!”

Sirius snorted. “I raised Harry just as much as you did! Even if he's not my son biologically he's still like my son just as much as he's your son.”

Severus stepped down the remaining stairs until he stood directly in front of Sirius.

“Again, Black, you're forgetting that we didn't raise this Harry. We didn't. Really, we don't even know this boy.”

Sirius quieted, nodding after a moments delay. “Then let's start knowing him.”

Severus's voice grew just as quiet. “At last, something we agree upon. Another thing—no more comparing our two Harry's.”

Sirius's brow furrowed. “Comparing? I'm not comparing.”

Severus took a step back from Sirius, giving him a look of disbelief. “Hypothetically, what would you honestly say if this Harry told you that he didn't like peanut butter sandwhiches?”

Sirius's eyebrows rose in surprise. “I'd say that's weird, considering our old Harry loved peanut butter sandwhiches—” Sirius cut himself off, a look of understanding crossed his face. “Oh. I see.”

There was a moment of silence between them.

“You're right,” Sirius said softly. “We don't know this Harry at all. What's his favorite color? Favorite food? Does he find you cold, rude and nasty? Does he find me unbelievably nice and charming?”

Severus made a face. “I am not cold, rude or nasty, Black, and as for you being nice and charming… that's something to laugh at. I'd be unbelievably concerned if Harry thought so, as well as unbelievably amused if he agreed with you merely to be polite.”

“I was only joking,” Sirius said defensively. “You really hurt me with that comment. You really don't think I'm nice and charming? 'Cause you know I always think you are, smoochypoo. You know, you really ought to smile once in a while, it brings out those dimples.”

Severus scowled, retreating up the staircase. Perhaps Harry needed company again… anything to get away from Black.

“I do not have dimples, Black.”

“True, but I imagine that you do because it makes you more—”

“What was that Elizabeth was saying about you being a bender?” Severus questioned loudly, drowning out Sirius's voice. “I'm sure I heard you say otherwise? The straightest? How disappointing it will be for her when she finds out she was right in the first place. And being the gossip of the town as well….”

Sirius clamped his mouth shut and glared.

--

Severus returned to Harry's room to find the boy leaning over the side of his bed with a wand in his hand. He heard the boy murmur “Lumos”, creating light that the kitten seemed fascinated with. Then, slowly, the light faded away, and Harry grinned as the black kitten insisted on batting the wand with his paw. When he heard Severus at the doorway, he sat up and straightened his posture, his face draining of all color.

“I'm sorry!” Harry burst out, glancing down at the wand in his hand. “I saw it laying on the dresser and I know I shouldn't have touched it! I'm sorry.”

Severus scowled, leaning against the doorframe. “Nonsense, it's your wand. If you wish to use it to play with your cat then by all means, go ahead.”

Harry set the wand on the bed beside his pillow. “You and Sirius were awful loud,” he commented. “Do you argue with each other a lot?”

“Often enough,” Severus said. “Did you hear all that was said?”

Harry shook his head. “Only… being physically something, pitying a child and a peanut butter sandwhich.”

Severus regarded Harry silently, before saying, “Do you like peanut butter sandwhiches?”

“Y—yeah, I think so.”

“What about broccoli? Or your favorite color?”

Harry looked puzzled. “One minute you're talking about food and now you're talking about colors?”

Severus sighed, and in one swift motion he was sitting back in the chair. “I realized that I don't know you,” Severus stated firmly. “And I'd like to.”

Harry stared as he, too, realized the same thing.