Uh-oh.

Harry’s breath caught. He could just imagine Petunia’s reaction if she saw the scene as it was. Accusing him of lounging about all day, probably assuming he had somehow tricked or otherwise persuaded Snape to stop making him work, possibly dragging him back over the road for a taste of the cane.

Judging from the expression on Snape’s face, he was having similar thoughts

“Professor …” Harry pleaded weakly. Please have something up your sleeve.

“Stay where you are, Potter,” Snape said calmly. “I need you to clutch your stomach and look in pain—no, more than you do now—but do not speak or make any noise. Do you understand?”

“Why?” Harry asked, bamboozled.

“Trust me,” Snape said simply, and went to open the door. Harry quickly followed his instructions.

“Mr Snape!” he heard Petunia say from the doorstep. “I thought you must be out again.”

“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting; I had my hands full. Can I help you?”

“Yes … I was just wondering …” Petunia hesitated. Harry could almost read her thoughts. If there’s something going on here I’m not going to like. “Where’s the boy?”

“Oh, he’s in here,” Snape said. “Come and see.”

Harry kept his eyes closed, his arms wrapped around his abdomen and his face screwed up as Petunia entered.

“What’s going on?” she snapped. “Why’s he lying down?”

“I’ve been working on some new healing potions,” Snape said without hesitation. “Mr Potter has been my unwilling test subject. Of course, in order to heal him I first have to make him sick.”

“Nothing contagious I hope?” Petunia said in a very nervous voice. Harry heard her step backwards.

“No, you’re quite safe. It’s only appendicitis.”

“Oh, good. Well … I’ll … let you get on with it.”

“You could stay for a coffee if you like,” Snape suggested.

“Oh, no sorry I can’t; I have to pick my husband up from the station. Another time.”

“Yes, certainly. Good day then, Petunia.”

A few moments after the door had closed behind her, Snape spoke again. “All clear.”

Harry unfolded himself and sat up, staring at Snape, who turned to see his gaze on him. “What?”

“You’re way too good at lying, sir.”

“Thank you. I think. You could say I’ve had a lot of practise.”

“I won’t ask.”

“No, it’s probably best you don’t,” Snape murmured.

“Why did you ask her for coffee?”

“I thought it best not to give the impression that I didn’t want her in the house.”

“But what if she’d said yes?”

“I had a backup plan.”

“Which was?”

“Poison her.”

Harry choked. “What?”

“Not fatally,” Snape added hastily. “Just a little Blacklace in the coffee to make her a bit woozy. She wouldn’t have stayed long.”

Harry was about to ask if it was legal for wizards to give Muggles potions to make them ill, before deciding that he didn’t want to know. He then began to wonder if Snape ever spiked anyone else’s drinks, and resolved to be wary of his pumpkin juice tasting odd in future.

-

The chink of china hitting the floor sent Severus back into the living-room to see Potter had dropped off, his plate falling to the floor, scattering toast crumbs everywhere. Severus cleaned it up, and then something made him pause, watching Potter for a moment.

It was odd … Looking after Potter now felt like much less of a chore than when all he had been doing was giving him food and telling him to do things. It made no sense to Severus. Maybe he had just got used to having the boy around? That was a frightening thought.

“Can’t be for much longer,” Severus muttered to himself. Surely Albus would figure out the wards at the Weasleys’ place soon enough.

He wondered vaguely how much longer it would be before Potter left Arrow Close. Then he found himself wondering if Potter would still be there on his birthday. Before Severus could stop himself, he’d found himself wondering what kind of birthday cake Potter would like.

He blinked, and shook himself mentally. Why on earth was he considering getting Potter a birthday cake?

He probably didn’t have any with the Dursleys.

That was true. But it wasn’t Severus’ job. All he was supposed to be doing was keeping the boy healthy.

And to that end, you have fed him, taken care of him while sick, helped him overcome a phobia, entertained him, taken him out for pleasure, and given him a lot of money. Yes, that makes perfect sense.

It was true, he hadn’t needed to do half those things. He really didn’t know why he had.

Potter stirred, and Severus realised he had been staring at him for a good couple of minutes. He sat down and began looking through some potion notes, but for once he couldn’t concentrate.

-

An acute increase in the stomach pain woke Harry up, and he spent most of the next three hours with his head down the toilet.

Snape, as before, was brilliant. He fetched Harry a cushion for him to kneel on, and remained with him, a hand on his shoulder—perhaps to steady him, but Harry found it more of a comforting weight. He found himself fighting tears at several points, touched beyond expression. His own family had never expressed a shred of sympathy when he was ill, yet Snape, his teacher and someone who didn’t even like him, was staying by his side.

By the time the nausea had subsided, it was late afternoon, and he managed to eat a little more before falling asleep again. He dozed fitfully, coming in and out of consciousness, for several more hours, waking abruptly to another bout of diarrhoea.

This time he made it in time.

“I’ve got you some pyjamas, Potter,” Snape called through the toilet door. “And I’ve made up a bed for you.”

“Thanks, Professor.”

When Harry had finished up and emerged from the toilet, it turned out that Snape had decided Harry should take his room, since it was closest the bathroom, and he would take the spare room. Every small thing he did for Harry made him warm to him more, and he nearly choked up again.

“Should you need anything in the night,” Snape said firmly before Harry went to bed, “don’t hesitate to wake me up. All right? I won’t be cross—provided you have a genuine reason and you’re not just doing it because you feel like it, that is.”

Harry smiled. “Okay, sir. Thank you.”

“Now, bed.”

“Yes sir!”

Harry went into Snape’s bedroom and closed the door. The bed was made up ready, with crisp green sheets and duvet set. Harry changed into the pyjamas Snape had got for him, which had a price tag still attached, and opened the door to make an easy path to the bathroom. He snuggled down under the duvet, nose filled with the smell of Snape’s laundry powder, and stretched across the width of the double bed.

Definitely better than mine.

He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep almost instantly.

-

Severus was woken by the sound of retching on the landing, followed by the sound of someone crashing into a door.

He threw back his covers and hurried out of the spare room, slapping on the light to ensure he didn’t slip in anything.

Oh, great. By the look of things, Potter was having trouble both ends at once.

He could hear Potter heaving in the bathroom, and Vanished the double trail along the carpet and conjured a bucket.

“Potter? I’m coming in.”

Severus received no answer except a gagging noise, and stepped very carefully into the bathroom. Given his limited choice, Potter had chosen to sit on the toilet and vomit onto the floor. Severus Vanished the mess and positioned the bucket. Potter groaned.

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes,” Severus said gently. “Is there anything else you need?”

Potter shook his head slowly. “S-sorry, sir.”

“I told you before, it’s not your fault.”

“B-but … I-I … all in y-your b-bed …” Tears were rolling down Potter’s cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it.” Severus brushed them away without thinking about it.

When he had first taken Potter in, so to speak, he had bought the pyjamas as a ‘just in case’, hoping he would never have to use them. He had, though, only bought one pair, which now it seemed had been an oversight. Severus rifled through his clothes and decided the best thing he could do was shrink down a t-shirt and shorts for Potter.

Next he checked on his bedroom. Potter was right—he hadn’t even been able to get out of bed in time, let alone to the bathroom. Severus Vanished it all, and changed the bedcovers again. Good thing he kept spare sets.

Potter remained in the bathroom for well over an hour. Despite his obvious embarrassment, he was happy for Severus to stay in there with him, hand on his shoulder as he threw up seven more times. Potter trembled through it and felt frailer than ever.

When he finally left the bathroom, looking white and exhausted, Severus made him drink more water before he went back to bed. Potter sat on the edge of Severus’ bed, sipping his way down a glass, still looking shaky.

“Thank you,” he said to Severus after having finally swallowed the last drop.

“You’re welcome.” Snape put the empty glass down. “Is there anything else I can do for you before you turn in again?”

This time Potter hesitated. “Um …”

“What?”

“It’s just—I wanted to say—thank you. For, um, you know, being there w-with me and—and stuff. And—and holding m-me—n-no-one’s ever—” Potter cut himself off, but Severus didn’t need to be a Legilimens to understand.

No-one had ever looked after Potter when he was sick before. As if Severus needed another reason to despise the Dursleys.

Looking at Potter, he could see how vulnerable the boy really was. Everyone was somewhat vulnerable when they were ill, needing comfort and someone else to take care of them—but Potter was in a different league. Right at that moment, Severus probably looked to the boy like the closest thing to a loving parent he had ever known.

For some reason, the thought didn’t repel Severus. He didn’t know why, until he decoded the unspoken request, and reached out to Potter again, resting his hand back on his shoulder. Potter unexpectedly moved at the touch, leaning closer to Severus, who froze.

“S-sorry—” Potter drew back, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “I—thought—sorry!”

Severus realise too late Potter had thought he was trying to hug him. Very gently, not wanting to startle the child, he drew him into his arms. Potter rested his head on his chest and wound his own arms around Severus in return. For such scrawny limbs they had a very tight grip.

I’m hugging Harry Potter, Severus thought in horror. When had this become part of the job description?

Merlin help me. I like him.