The Potions Master strutted through the castle… just walking… well, perhaps pacing was a more accurate term.  A world of issues were plaguing his mind; preventing him from settling in his quarters even though it was now quite late in the evening.  Given the lack of students to regulate the activity was remarkably inane, except, of course, to soothe the man’s building tension.  

Between Potter, the Unbreakable Vow, the Dark Lord, Dumbledore and Draco Severus was almost overwhelmed with concerns, his mind turning over each problem in a relentless barrage of torment.  

But that in itself was a fairly futile exercise… he’d already spent an hour sitting in his armchair trying to wrangle any kind of resolution to any individual problem, but found them all to be emphatically linked to one another… and one’s solution inexorably caused the ruination for another… with himself at the very core!  

Severus very quickly came to the conclusion that all he was going to achieve by allowing these thoughts and feelings to consume his every waking moment was a severe stomach ulcer.  He was already feeling the unwelcome stir of nausea in his gut, determining that having not eaten all evening would most definitely have contributed to the problem.    

He had just decided he should seek out a meal from the kitchens, but first he would drop by the hospital wing in case Poppy had been trying to contact him during his therapeutic marching.  With any luck the Potter brat had awoken and the chance to practice his new collection of spells upon the boy could provide a welcome distraction for a short time, at least.  

Descending two flights of stairs to the infirmary, Severus barely restrained himself from bursting through the door, catching himself at the last moment.  He turned the knob gently and eased the panel open.  It would not do to anger the Matron when he still wanted her cooperation.  

“Oh, there you are, Professor Snape… I’ve been trying to get you through the Floo for the last quarter of an hour.  As you can see Harry is awake now.”  

And indeed Severus could see the Potter teen sitting upright in the bed the Medi-witch had indicated, staring warily at the approaching dark man.  

“My apologies, Poppy… I needed to stretch my legs.”  

The woman’s eyes studied him for an uncomfortably long moment before sweeping her gaze to Potter.  

“Of course…  Now, Harry dear, Professor Snape has a request to make of you?”  Severus stopped mid pace in the middle of the room. 

‘The bloody woman expects me to ask his permission?’ his mind burst out in incredulous wonder.  ‘Sneaky bloody harlot… she’s as bad as Dumbledore!’  

“A request?” both males queried simultaneously, glancing at one another momentarily in surprise.  

“Well, yes of course, Severus… you don’t expect me to just let an unqualified person practice on a patient without their consent, do you?”  

Severus glared at her unimpressed, but the woman wore an unyielding expression and the dark man knew he had no choice but comply if he wanted a chance to test and perfect his new skills.  

“Fine,” he relented, then he directed his steely gaze at the boy, “Well, Potter… may I?”  

“Er… may you what?” Potter stammered out, confusion clear in his features.  

“Sir!  You will address me as Sir or Professor.  How many times must you be told!?” Severus burst out, his patience already pushed to its limit.  The Mediwitch sent him a withering glare, but he resolutely ignored her.  It was his right as a teacher to demand respect!  

Suitably chastised the teen repeated his query. “Er… may you what, Sir?” he asked, his tone bordering on cheek to Severus’ impatient ears.  

Severus huffed a very put upon sigh.  “Practice, you idiotic dolt!  Weren’t you listening!?”  

“Severus!” growled the Matron warningly, and he was smart enough after the castigation to appear aptly sheepish.  

“Um… practice what exactly… er Sir?” Potter countered, obviously still too confused to react to the blatant insult.  Or perhaps he too was unwilling to aggravate the uncompromising Healer further.  

The Potions Master rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger; taking a deep breath to help calm himself down.  He then looked up and pinned the teenager with another glare.  

“Earlier this evening, Potter, I found I was ill prepared to adequately treat the infection that had taken a hold in your arm wound.  Whilst you lay sleeping,” he continued with a slightly derisive tone, “I have since remedied the deficiency in my knowledge… and all that is left in order for me to be considered proficient in the spells is to practice upon a live patient.”  

Comprehending quickly and with a panicked expression on his face, Potter glanced toward the Medi-witch, then back to Severus.  “You want to practice on me?”  

Suppressing another sigh, Severus replied, “As there is no other patient currently present that is the idea, Potter, yes.”  

“Oh… um…”  Potter glanced for confirmation and aid from the Matron again, and fortunately she came to both their rescues.    

“It’s alright, Harry… I’ll be here; Professor Snape will not be able to make a mistake,” she reassured, moving close to the boy’s bed and draping a comforting arm across his shoulders.  

Severus glared at her once more, once again feeling put out that she had taken another vague shot at his competency.  But Potter still had not given a response.  

“Well, Potter… may I?” he prompted a bit impatiently.  

“Er… sure… I guess,” the boy replied hesitantly, still looking a little concerned.  

“Good lad,” Poppy reassured him, with a comforting rub to his good arm.  “Well, come on then, Severus… Harry needs to eat something, but we should get this done first.”  

Madam Pomfrey supervised while Severus deftly removed the dressing from Potter’s upper right arm, inspected the half healed wound and set his wand over the top, his wand-less hand supporting the injured limb on its underside, holding it in an easily accessible position out from his body.  The teenager was in obvious discomfort with the dark man in such close proximity again, and kept his eyes trained staunchly on a spot on the far wall as the two Hogwarts staff members conducted the procedure.  

After a slight adjustment in his wand positioning, and a word of instruction, the Matron gave the wizard permission to proceed.  

“Desino Inflammo” the man muttered, and the Potions Master gave his wand a flick and a blue light left the tip of his instrument and infused into the boy’s arm.  After two anti-clockwise circular movements the man gave his wand a flick back towards himself and drew an orange glow to the surface of the teenager’s skin and from within the wound itself.  

“The brighter the orange, the more pure the cleansing has resulted… you can see the oval patch of slightly darker colour from the length of the wound there,” she stated, indicating the area with her finger for the benefit of her pupil.  “That will need a further treatment… you can go ahead and do it now.  A ‘red’ retracting glow will require a little time in between applications… it indicates the area had a heavier concentration of bacteria, and therefore the tissue will have been damaged on a greater scale and will likely need time to heal naturally before further intervention with this spell.  But this is only a fairly light orange colour still… and I imagine this will be the last one needed.  Go ahead.”  

Severus repeated the steps of the spell, and Poppy expressed her delight at the results.  

“Now, of course the healing precursor ‘Desino Morbus’ would be the first spell you would use, to prepare the site for healing… to kill the disease, though of course I have already used what I consider a more effective combination of efficient spells and potions.  It is just a personal preference… though I still believe this combination of spells will be the best for you to use if the need ever arises again.” Poppy explained.  

“Now, this treatment is for reducing the affected area and drawing the infection to the surface… and if you would just chant the final spell in the series now, Severus…”  He nodded and muttered, “Desino Purgo” under his breath, though with no less intensity.  The orange glow suddenly gathered together and sprung from the skin and as it hit the tip of Severus’ wand, it burst into fine sparks and vanished.  

“Good, now it’s been purged… the wound is clean.”  

“How long in between if the retractor is red?” Severus inquired studiously.  

“Anywhere from an hour to five hours… it all depends on the shade of colour.  I shall be able to provide you with a general guide to study, Severus… but for now, you’ve done well!”  

Severus’ chest swelled with a genuine feeling of self-satisfaction, brought on by the rare word of praise.  It had been a long time since anyone but the Headmaster had offered such sentiment… and even then it was often only following a drastic and life-threatening incident after which Severus had needed reassurance; not that he would have admitted it, of course.  

The man released the boy’s arm from his grasp, “Do you want me to dress the wound?” he asked, directing the question to the Medi-witch.  

She gazed at him, evaluating, for a few moments, “You tell me,” she said challengingly.  

He nodded and turned his attention to the wound once more, understanding immediately that she was testing him; wanting to be sure about his judgement before she left her patient in his care.  

Potter spun his head to stare at first the Matron, then him; a wary expression spreading across his face.  

Severus did not dwell on the boy’s reaction, but concentrated on assessing the injured limb.  In the dark man’s opinion it would be beneficial to cover the cut… it was still not completely healed and the possibility of re-infection was definitely a measurable risk.  

“I’ll bandage the arm,” he stated with a small nod.  

“Good… I would agree,” Poppy replied, “while you do that, I’ll order some food from the kitchens.”  

Severus turned his back on the retreating Medi-witch and focused on the job at hand.  He retrieved a fresh pad and bandage from the store room with a summoning spell; catching them deftly in his left hand as they came whizzing through the air toward the two wizards.  

Quickly and efficiently he wrapped the wound with the strip of material and fastened it with a sticking charm.  His eyes then glimpsed the bandages still wrapped around the boy’s hands, reminding him of his suspicions that the injuries sustained by the teenager were not the result of a mere accident as Potter had continued to declare.  

He reached out for one white wrapped hand.  “Are you in pain?” he asked plainly, not really wanting to have this conversation with the boy, but knowing that if he didn’t, he would not feel comfortable with allowing Dumbledore to return the child to his relatives the next day.  He just felt a nagging sensation to pursue the matter, despite the Headmaster’s assurances.  

“Um… a little,” Potter admitted quietly, “Madam Pomfrey said I could have a pain potion when I eat dinner.”  

Severus nodded; beginning to unwrap the material from the boy’s left extremity.  “And what exactly have you eaten today?”  

Potter looked up at him a little too quickly to be a benign reaction.  He took a breath to answer but was interrupted before he could utter a word.  

“Don’t lie to me…” Severus warned him.  

The boy sighed, lowering his gaze once more, “Nothing,” he admitted softly.  

“Why?”  By now he had exposed the skin on the palm of Potter’s hand.  The skin appeared reddened, but looked quite intact to the Potions Master… the teenager was healing well.  So well, in fact, that Severus decided to leave the covering off the hand for the moment… the boy would need the hand to eat with, after all… Severus had no intentions of hand feeding him!  

“I just didn’t get the chance-”  

“Come on, Potter… don’t take me for a fool!  I’m sure you would have had a moment to eat breakfast… graze on a piece of fruit?  As I understand it you did not have this altercation with your Uncle until lunch time.”  

“I was busy, that’s all… I didn’t know this was going to happen…”  

The boy’s voice was rising in defence and Severus decided to change tack for the moment.  “Where is the burn salve Madam Pomfrey has been applying to your hands?”  

“In the drawer there,” the boy replied, after only a small hesitation, indicating the set of draws under his bedside table.  

Severus retrieved the jar and read the label.  It was one of his own brews; identified by his own tiny scrawl.  “When was the last time Madam Pomfrey applied this to your burns?”  

“Um… before Professor Dumbledore came, I think.”  

Severus looked at the teen sharply, “Why did you not tell the Headmaster the truth, Potter?”  

“I did!” Potter retorted, once again a little too quickly for him to claim he had no clue as to what Severus was alluding to.  

They glared at one another for a few moments.  Potter was the first to turn his face away.  

“No… you didn’t,” Severus insisted quietly, his beating heart suddenly prominent in his chest.  

Potter did not deny it again… which spoke volumes to Severus.  It was the validation he had been seeking since his very first suspicion.  

“Do they often deny you food?” he asked boldly, sensing it was now or never to lay the whole mess on the table.  

At first Severus didn’t think Potter was actually going to respond, but then he saw the teen’s eyes dart in his direction.  

“Why would you care anyway?”  

Severus was quick to answer.  “This is not about me,” he practically snapped. 

Potter sent him a fleeting, strangely curious look.  It was a fairly odd thing to say, he supposed… and Severus mentally kicked himself.  He tried again.  

“I mean you don’t have to put up with their abuse… they have no right-”  

“I’m not abused!” the boy interrupted indignantly.  

“Neglect then!  You can label it whatever you like, Potter, but it comes down to the same thing; neither your Aunt nor Uncle are taking the responsibility of guardians of the “Boy-Who-Lived” seriously enough,” he shot back.  “Do you see Petunia’s blubber of a son going hungry, or flinching at an epithet… or nursing a serious injury inflicted, oddly enough, by his care-taker?!” he sneered, flicking his hand in the direction of Potter’s arm wound with exasperated disdain; his previously suppressed anger at the child’s Muggle relatives now getting the better of him.  

Potter’s eyes were wide with alarm at the voicing of Severus’ alarmingly accurate observations, and was speechless for several moments before shaking his head lightly in response, averting his gaze by dipping his chin; his expression a picture of shameful misery.  

“Indeed… no!” Severus answered curtly for him.  “Do not kid yourself, Potter, I probably see far more than even you what has likely been going on in that place you supposedly call home.”  

“You don’t know anything about me,” the child hissed with a soft, yet rather venomous, tone; quite deliberately not meeting his Professor’s gaze.  

“You think so!?” Severus rejoined swiftly, the dark man’s fury and frustration running away with him.  “I beg to differ; I think I know quite a bit about you… we are not so diff-”  

Severus was thankfully spared from making the rest of his foolhardy admission when the Matron suddenly bustled in with two dinner trays floating ahead of her.  

“Here we are, dears… you both must be famished,” she chirped, sending Severus a significant look as he worked to calm himself down.  She set both the trays gently down upon Potter’s side table.  

He returned her gaze with one of irritated incredulousness.  ‘She must be daft if she thinks I’m about to sit here and dine with Potter!’ he thought sourly.  

“Well, I’m off now.  I’ll leave Harry in your hands now, Severus… his chart is on my desk.  Any last minute questions?” she asked, raising her fine eyebrows.  

“You’re leaving me?!  With him?!” Harry shot at her, shock, panic and dread all obvious in his tone; to equal measures of Severus’ amusement and exasperation.  

“Don’t wet yourself, Potter; it is merely for the rest of the night only.  The Headmaster will be along to rescue us both in the morning, I assure you!” he sniped out sarcastically.  “And no… no further questions, Madam Pomfrey… we shall be fine,” he finished genially, wishing the woman would hurry up and leave so he could take that delicious looking feast she had brought and slink away into the Matron’s office to devour it - leaving Potter to stew over his own meal alone.  His stomach rumbled a little at the thought.  

Potter swallowed, still looking a little miserable, but he thankfully refrained from further argument; figuring, as Severus did, that the rest of the night wouldn’t take that long, and most of it would be spent asleep, after all.  

“Right… good,” Poppy said, though she didn’t make to actually leave.  She was obviously having a hard time handing over her responsibility.  

He took her gently by her elbow and led her (slightly reluctantly on her part) to the floo in her office.  “Everything is well in hand, Madam Pomfrey… you have my word,” he assured and stood watch as she nodded again, took a pinch of floo-powder, threw it in the flames and stepped in after making a melodic call of her intended destination.  

‘Thank Merlin she’s gone!’ he thought with a relieved sigh after she had swirled away; if somewhat uncharitably.  

His stomach rumbled again as the scent of warm gravy and roast beef wafted in from the ward.  He strode back to Potter’s bed and reached for his meal; noticing though that the teen had not yet touched his.  

“Eat, Potter,” he commanded, lifting the boy’s tray instead and depositing it carefully onto one of the purpose made, magically hovering tray tables that enabled Pomfrey’s patients to eat sitting comfortably in their beds.  He pushed the tray to within the boy’s easy reach, waiting to see his reaction.  

Potter stared at the heaped plates, keeping his eyes averted from the Potions Master determinedly, a deep scowl in place telling clearly of his attitude.  

“At least here you are not denied,” Severus muttered bitterly in a low tone when he realised the boy was not going to touch the meal, at least not while he was standing watching over him anyway.    

He produced his wand in the blink of an eye and summoned a small vial from Poppy’s storeroom and placed it carefully next to the boy’s glass of pumpkin juice.    

“Pain-relieving potion - to be taken during your meal,” he indicated curtly, but still the boy did not appear to respond or react.  

Now irritated beyond tolerance by Potter’s obstinate conduct, he proceeded to snatch up his own tray, turned on the spot and marched swiftly back into the office.    

Blast it if he were going to continue to go hungry because of the boy’s stubborn tantrum!

   *********   

With a now satisfyingly filled stomach, and consequently feeling somewhat less irritable, Severus entered the ward quietly to extinguish the lights.    

‘The boy really should get some sleep’, he decided… and for that matter, so should Severus.  He was tired, exhausted actually; today he had been heaped with a hefty load of fresh worries that had played on his mind, taking their toll physically as well as mentally.  He knew they would still be there in the morning, of course, but it was gratifying to know that for few hours every day he could push all his concerns aside and just rest.  He had to really, his sanity depended on it… and it was nice that he had that time to look forward to each day.  

He glanced over at the boy and was pleasantly surprised to find him sleeping serenely; his relaxed body snuggled comfortably into the bedding.  Severus quietly moved closer to the bed; confident that the teen would not sense his presence.    

Another glance informed him that the child had consumed the entirety of his meal; the empty plates lay scattered on the tray (including an overturned, empty potions phial) which remained hovering over the teen’s legs.  The boy must have been starving, for there had been a lot of food on the tray; Severus himself had not been able to polish it all off despite being quite ravenous.  The dark man gave a snort of contented amusement, and somehow an unbidden smirk ended up shaping his lips.   

He moved the tray table away from the sleeping boy further in case he accidently kicked it in his sleep; upsetting the load and waking them both up, for he had at some stage decided to sleep in the infirmary tonight… compelled by his sense of responsibility.    

The child’s burned hand was still exposed, but Severus made a swift decision not to do anything about it now.  The burns were mostly healed and he determined the boy’s need for rest, not to mention his own, were a higher priority at the moment.  He would see to them first thing in the morning.  

A quick flick of his wand had the candles that lit the room dim to a level that would allow safe movement about the room, but not enough light as to prevent anyone from sleeping.    

The dark man then made his way back to the office, transfigured the small armchair in the corner into a camp bed and made himself more comfortable for bed by removing his outer robes and shoes, and loosening his collar and cuffs.    

After a habitual series of deep breaths to help him clear his mind Severus gratefully clambered onto the cot and practically fell into the soft bedding with a relieved sigh.  He knew he would be asleep in moments and closed his eyes; feeling himself sink rapidly into the abyss of slumber.

   *********   

He was jarred awake no more than two and a half hours later by an urgent voice calling his name.  

“Severus!  Please… Severus… help me… please,” the frightened, pained voice echoed again, and the dark man leapt upright instantly, reaching swiftly for his wand which was stored loosely up his sleeve; immediately ready to come to the defence of the one who had woken him with such desperate pleas…