"Are you feeling better, Minerva?" Severus asked politely.

"Much better.  I had a devil of a headache at first, but your headache potion cured it - thanks for that," Minerva smiled at him.  "And thank you also for the lovely flowers,"  she nodded at the vase of spring flowers on her desk.

Severus shrugged, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.  "It was a trifling gesture - the least I could do for your brave defense of Hogwarts."

Minerva grimaced.  "Brave defense indeed.  I get myself knocked out cold without helping anyone!"  She rubbed delicately at her temple, where the healing scar still glowed faintly.

"A regrettable accident.  I'm only grateful you weren't seriously injured."

Minerva smirked at him over her tea cup.  "So, Severus." she said archly.  "Are you going to tell me what really happened last night?"

Severus considered her solemnly.  "Are you sure you wish me to?"

Minerva's gaze hardened.  "Absolutely.  I've my own suspicions, I'm afraid."  She glanced wistfully down into her tea.  "As much as I might want to, I cannot afford to remain blissfully ignorant.  I cannot do my job if I don't know the truth."

"Very well," Severus agreed.    "I will tell you what I know. . .and what I surmise."

And he did. 

Minerva leaned back in her chair when he finished, considering his words for several long minutes.  "I'm inclined to agree with you.  I find it impossible to believe that Albus would deliberately endanger Harry. . .unless he doesn't believe the boy is truly at risk.  That, I fear, is our greatest concern."  She sighed pensively.  "I have seen it before, of course. . . this blinding optimism that Albus can't, or won't explain.  It has worried me on more than one occasion, I can tell you.  I don't really understand what the man is thinking sometimes, but Albus does not always confide in me, you know.  Even though the boy is in my House - is ultimately my responsibility- there is too much I don't know.  Albus doesn't seem concerned that the child could be hurt. . .he seems to have such unquestioning faith in Harry. . .."

"What could be the basis of this faith?" Severus asked.  "The boy is merely a symbol to the wizarding world. . .a symbol of a lucky - what?  accident?  that rid us of the Dark Lord before?  We don't even know what happened that night.  And if Potter is a symbol, why risk that symbol in childish acts of daring?  You would think the Headmaster would wish to protect the boy from all possible harm.  It is what he claims to want."

"I don't know, Severus.  Merlin knows, the boy has sacrificed enough to this cause.  He has lost his parents;  grown up in a Muggle home;  and seems to detest the attention his celebrity brings him.  He's surely earned a chance to live a normal life by now."

"I somehow doubt that Harry Potter's life will ever be what anyone could call normal," Severus said dryly.  "He is a rather. . .unusual boy."

"Why, Severus!" Minerva flashed him a prim smirk.  "I thought you believed Harry was quite average. . . mundane even.  What did you call him?  A mediocre wizard child, I believe it was."

Severus snorted but answered gamely.  "I have come to know the boy a bit better since then, I suppose.  He now seems to me to be slightly. . . above average."

"My goodness!" Minerva teased. "That is high praise indeed, coming from you!"

"It matters not what I think," Severus retorted gruffly.  "What concerns me is what Albus thinks of him.  It's clear he has expectations of some kind.  Do you think he may be testing the boy in some way? Why would he need to?  What could he be looking for?"

"I don't know," Minerva shook her head.  "Perhaps it's only a sort of fostered paternal pride.  I think Albus felt guilty when James and Lily died. . .guilty that he couldn't save them.  Perhaps he merely delights in Harry's accomplishments.  . . he does seem fond of the child.  Perhaps, in that fondness, he wishes to acknowledge only Harry's triumphs. "

"Yes. . .I must say, when I spoke with him today, he seemed far more pleased with Harry's victory last night, than concerned over the danger the boy faced."  Severus steepled his fingers and peered over them at her.  "The question is, what do we do about it?"

"I don't know." Minerva admitted frankly.  "Protect the boy?  Watch his back? Try to keep him out of trouble?  What more can we do?"

"Nothing, I suppose," Severus grimaced.  "I am no expert on children, Minerva -  I have never claimed to be.  I am a potion-brewer - a retired spy - and an old reprobate.  But those very credentials have made me naturally vigilant. . .and something about all of this perturbs me. . .something feels wrong.  All my instincts tell me, there is more to Harry Potter than meets the eye."

"Perhaps there is," Minerva sighed regretfully.  "I wish there wasn't.  Whatever the Headmaster may or may not believe - whatever plots and schemes that old fool may be harboring - I  look at Harry Potter, and I see a child.  A quiet, self-conscious boy, who should be entitled to his childhood.  He should be educated;  nurtured and guided;  not groomed as some Junior-Hero-in-Training!"

Severus chuckled at her indignation.  "Well, at last we agree on something, my dear Gryffindor.  Harry Potter is no paragon of virtue - behold - he's just an ordinary boy!"

"You seem to have taken an unusual interest in this ordinary boy, Severus," Minerva observed slyly.  "Could it be  that you have developed a genuine concern for Harry?"

Severus glared at her, but his words surprised her.  "I will admit that the boy has grown on me. . . much to my dismay.  I am concerned about his welfare. Is that so wrong?"

"No," Minerva shook her head. "On the contrary, my dear Severus.  It is the first right thing I've heard today!  I am very grateful - and very encouraged.  Perhaps between us, we can keep young Mr. Potter well clear of further adventures."

"I shall certainly do my part," Severus agreed, rising and offering her a tiny bow. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must check on my Snakes.  This close to end of term, they tend to get a little rambunctious, and need firm supervision."

"Of course.  Thank you for joining me for tea," Minerva replied graciously.  "Oh, and Severus?" she called lightly as he neared the door.  He turned to look at her.  "Next term, you might want to find some new strategy for disguising your tutoring sessions with Harry.  Even a Hufflepuff wouldn't believe bi-weekly detentions for an entire year."

Severus gaped at her, his sallow cheeks pinking. He opened his mouth to deny - shut it again, then smirked at her.  "Thank you for your advice, Minerva," he said dryly, turning back to the door.  "Oh - by the way. . . .just so you know. . . . .Harry Potter owns an invisibility cloak."

He slipped out the door, snickering at the frustrated moan of despair that rang out from Minerva's office.

---- ----- ----- ----- -----

Despite his frequent, and often prolonged visits to Potter's bedside, Severus was disappointed to learn that he missed Harry's first return to consciousness.  Three days after Quirrell perished, Severus ambled into the Infirmary just before dinner, to hear Madame Pomphrey happily report that Harry Potter was, once again, in the land of the living.

"He sat up several hours ago - the Headmaster was here - and they had a nice long chat together," Poppy beamed.  "Then he ate a little and went back to sleep."

"I see," Severus sniffed sourly.  "Then I take it Mr. Potter is out of danger?"

"Oh, quite.  He'll be right as rain," Poppy simpered, tucking the sleeping boy's blankets in with a rather fastidious hand.  Snape tried to hide his annoyance.

"Very well, then I suppose there is no further need for me."

"Actually. . ."  a hesitant, pleading look crossed Poppy's placid features. "If you have time, there is something you might do for me. . .that is, if it's not too great an imposition?"  Severus gave her brief nod of encouragement. "I haven't been out of the Infirmary for three days - I didn't want to leave young Mr. Potter alone.  Would you mind keeping an eye on him while I run down to the Great Hall for dinner?  He should be no trouble. I've dosed him with sleeping draught, and a calming draught - for the nightmares, you know.  He probably won't even awaken."

"I would be happy to, Poppy," he agreed solemnly.  He really didn't mind, he realized.  The medi-witch at least deserved a reasonable dinner break.

"I do appreciate it, Severus," she gushed,  jumping up from her desk with obvious relief.  "He's not due for any more doses until midnight.  If you have any problems, just call for me. I promise I won't be long."

"Take your time, Poppy.  No rush.  I don't need to be back to my House for bed check until ten."

"Are you sure?" she asked worriedly.

"Certainly.  I will be fine.  Watching a child sleep is not that difficult a task. . . even if the child is the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Cause-Trouble," Severus smirked at her.  "Run along, Poppy.  I'll call if I need you."

"Thank you, Severus,"  Poppy hurried out, as if a bit worried he might change his mind.

Severus snorted and ambled over to the only occupied bed in the ward.  Potter was asleep, as Poppy had predicted, so Severus lowered himself into the chair beside the bed.  The chair was annoying hard and uncomfortable, but he corrected this swiftly with a cushioning and warming charm. 

I would not be surprised if Poppy deliberately makes the chairs uncomfortable to discourage visitors from staying too long.

Madame Pomphrey didn't like visitors in her ward.  Severus didn't know if this was for the good of her patients, or merely the protection of her domain.  Either way, the medi-witch was known to be fiercely territorial. The Potions Master was the only one she trusted alone in the Hospital Wing. . . even Albus had not merited that privilege.

The ward was dark and hushed, the only light a dim candle lantern suspended in the air above the sole patient's bed. Several tables nearby were heaped with cards and little gifts.  Severus stared at what appeared to be a beribboned toilet seat, hidden under several vases of flowers.

I don't even want to know.

Severus snorted and studied the sleeping boy in the faint light.  He was glad to see that most of the cuts on Potter's face and arms had healed, and the bruises were beginning to fade. But the child's face was still unnaturally pale, and dark circles underscored his closed eyes, like sooty smudges.

Curious,  Severus reached out and gingerly brushed strands of dark hair off the boy's forehead.  The infamous scar was a darker red than normal, and looked raw and inflamed, as if freshly acquired.  Potter's brow was furrowed in a mild scowl, and his face was strained with obvious discomfort.  Severus couldn't refrain from running a finger lightly over the painful-looking scar.  The boy didn't stir, but the scowl lightened a bit and some of the tension left his face.  Severus gently stroked the gruesome lightning bolt that had marked the child's face and his fate.  He could feel the heat from the feverish flesh, and could well imagine the pain it inflicted. 

He continued to stroke Potter's head, smugly satisfied to see the boy's tension fade and his features relax. As Potter's breathing slowed, he maintained the soothing contact. He smirked when the boy shifted his head in his sleep, nuzzling into his teacher's hand, seeking the reassuring touch. As he continued to caress the sleeping child's forehead, it never once occurred to him to question his own actions;  to worry that someone might witness the fearsome Potions Master petting an injured student.  He was secretly reveling in the unexpected comfort of touch.  He rarely touched anyone - and certainly not in a tender or nurturing way. Knowing he was unobserved, he indulged himself in the simple act.

When the boy shifted restlessly, he withdrew his hand.  Potter muttered something under his breath and sighed. His dark lashes fluttered, and he opened his eyes slowly.  The brilliant green eyes stared up dazedly at him for a moment.  Harry licked his lips and tried to speak.

"Shhh," Severus hissed softly.  Retrieving a glass of water from the bedside table, he slid an arm under the boy's shoulders, propped him up slightly, and helped him sip some water. 

The boy swallowed a few times, then lay back, blinking up at the Potions Master.  He cleared his throat and whispered, "Don't be angry."

Severus scowled at him.  "Why shouldn't I be angry?  You disobeyed me.  You did precisely what I told you not to do!" he scolded softly.

"I tried to tell a grown-up!  I did!" Harry protested weakly.  "But everyone was gone!  The Headmaster - and you - and I tried to tell Professor McGonagall, but she wouldn't believe me!"  He attempted to sit up, which prompted a nasty cough.  Severus gave him more water and made him lay back down.

"We will discuss this later, when you are stronger," he admonished.  "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." Harry groped for his glasses on the bedside table, and Severus handed them to him with a disapproving sigh.  "My head still hurts a little bit.  Madame Pomphrey gave me a potion for it - it's much better than it was."

"I understand the Headmaster visited with you this afternoon."

"Yes, sir," Harry frowned thoughtfully.  "I told him everything that happened. . .he can tell you, I guess. . . .but I didn't understand everything the Headmaster said."

"Such as?"

"He said Voldemort . . ." Harry stopped when he saw Severus grimace.  "I'm sorry.  I know you said not to say his name, but Professor Dumbledore said I should."

Severus wasn't sure how to explain this issue so he let it pass.  "Go on."

"Professor Dumbledore said he's still out there, looking for another body to share."

"To share?"

"Yeah - I mean, yes, sir.  He was sharing Professor Quirrell's body.  Quirrell took off his turban and when he turned around - this face was poking out the back of his head!" Harry's eyes were wide with horrified wonder.  "It was him.  He said things. . . things to me. . . .I don't think I want to talk about that right now," the boy suddenly looked away uneasily.

"It's all right, Harry," Severus soothed quietly.  "You don't have to talk about anything until you want to.  It must have been very frightening."  Harry nodded, his lower lip trembling just a tiny bit.  "If you do decide, later, that you want to tell me about it, I'll be more than willing to listen."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, then pulled himself together.  "Anyway, Professor Dumbledore said he pulled Professor Quirrell off of me and kept him from taking the Stone. . . but I don't remember that."

"Did he?" Severus kept his face impassive. Now why would Albus lie about this?

"All I remember is Professor Quirrell kinda - I dunno - disintegrating - like turning to dust or something," the boy shuddered. "And then I was falling. . . and I heard someone calling me. . ." he glanced up shyly.  "I thought it was you."

"You did hear me," Severus replied.  "I picked you up and brought you to the Infirmary."

"I thought so!" Harry whispered, visibly pleased.  He peeked up at Severus through his bangs.  "Did you stay here sometimes?  In the Infirmary?  While I was asleep?"

"Sometimes,"  Severus admitted grudgingly.  "How did you know?"

"I dunno.  I could tell, that's all," he shrugged.  "I'm glad you came back."

"Really?  Why?"

"I wanted to thank you - for saving me,"  the boy said tiredly.  "Quirrell told me it was you who saved me from the broom when he cursed it.  I'm glad you came back because I wanted to tell you that and because. . ."  he frowned, turning his head to avoid Severus's stare.

"Because what?"

Harry shook his head.  "You'll just make fun of me."

"Probably - but tell me anyway."

Because. . ." the boy murmured quietly, his wan cheeks pinking a bit.  "I feel safer when you're here and . . . and I missed you when I woke up and you were gone."

"You missed me? " Severus eyed him dubiously, ignoring the sudden warmth that tingled deep inside his chest.

"Yeah."

"Are you mad, Mr. Potter?  Perhaps you sustained more serious injury to your head than Madame Pomphrey realizes," Severus mocked gently.

"See - I knew you'd make fun!" the boy quipped,  glaring back at him.

"How is your vision, Mr. Potter?  Can you see me?" Severus hid his humor behind a scowl of concern.

"Yes, sir. . .  I can see fine."

"Are you sure?  Do you know who I am?"

"Of course, Professor Snape.  Why?"  Harry stared bemusedly up at him.

"I thought perhaps you had mistaken me for someone else."

"Because I trust you?  And because I'm glad you're here?" the boy had the cheek to grin wryly at him.

"Exactly."

Harry shook his head and gave him a solemn smile.  "I know who you are, Professor.  And I know you're not really the way most people think you are.  I can tell." The boy shifted uncomfortably on the bed.  His thin shoulders shivered a bit.  Without thinking about it, Severus pulled a spare blanket off the next bed and draped it over him, adding a light warming charm.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, gazing up at him thoughtfully. "Professor Dumbledore said you keep saving my life because you owe my Dad a life debt."

Severus scowled bitterly. "Occasionally, the Headmaster has some preposterous, misguided ideas that make sense only to him."

"I didn't understand it either," the boy admitted.  His eyes glazed over with weariness and pain, but he continued to ramble, almost as if he were talking to himself.   "You didn't even like my father!  You didn't like me at first, because of my Dad.  That's okay - people I don't even know hate me because of who my parents were, or because of what happened when my parents died. Doesn't  make much sense to me.  They blame me for Voldemort's defeat- but he was defeated because he tried to kill me. It's not like I set out to destroy him.  I was only a baby, after all!  It wasn't my fault - but I guess they blame me anyway.  I think that's pretty stupid. . . but I'm used to it. I'm used to people hating me. I'm used to people wishing I'd died or had never even been born."

Sudden suspicions nudged uneasily at the guarded chambers of Severus' mind, unsettling him. He decided to humor the injured boy. He'd likely not remember any of this conversation anyway." "I think perhaps Madame Pomphrey was too generous with your potions, Potter.  You are making no sense whatever."

"I never had any friends before Hogwarts. . .did you know that?" 

"I'm sure you are exaggerating, Harry."

"My very first friend was Hagrid." The boy went on as if Severus hadn't spoken.  His pale face was dreamy and his eyes not completely focused.  Severus suspected the child was, in fact, rather doped up after all. . . it was the only reasonable explanation for the uncensored mutterings that followed. 

"And now I have more friends," Harry smiled gently. "I guess maybe if I hadn't made good friends, like Hagrid and  Hermione and Ron, and Neville and the Weasleys and you . . I might have gone on just being the Boy-Everybody-Hates. . . .You're not really as bad as you think you are, you know," the glassy-eyed boy proclaimed with the somber wisdom of the intoxicated. "Sometimes you're awful strict but you saved my life.  And you look after your students - you won't let them get killed or injured or eaten by dark wizards.  You'd never hit a child - or starve them, or lock them up. . ." he hesitated, lost for a moment in some kind of dark memory, then he continued bluntly.  "You do care about your students - even me.   Even when I'm bad, and disobey, and you're angry with me."

Severus had no idea what prompted him to respond the way he did.  It must have been some strange misplaced pity for the child gazing up at him with eyes too old for his years.

"I'm not angry, Harry."

Harry stared at him, bewildered. "Okay." A ghost of a smile played across the boy's lips.

 The hesitant smile brought Severus's cold heart a surprising flush of warmth. He glared at the brat.  "You are reckless and annoying."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed calmly.

"You are far too impulsive. You never think before you act."

"Yes, sir."

 "You take foolish risks and endanger everyone around you."

"I'm sorry, sir."

There was a long pause.  Severus's glare lost its vehemence, and his voice was almost warm.   "Kindly do not do it again."

"Yes, sir.  I won't.  I promise."  A crooked grin crept onto Harry's face.

Severus sighed wearily.  "Do not make promises you cannot possibly keep, Mr. Potter."

"Sorry, sir." The grin was almost affectionate now.

Severus glowered down at Harry, who abruptly yawned.  "Go to sleep, you irritating child.  You look dreadful."

The boy settled back, his eyes drifting closed.  "Are. . .are you leaving?" he suddenly murmured.  His dark brows tilted in uneasy concern.

"No."  Severus reached out and patted the boy's arm awkwardly.  "I'll be right here.  Now go to sleep."

Potter smiled as he dropped off, muttering softly,  "Night, Professor."

Snape's response was equally soft as he settled back in his chair.  "Good night, Harry."