"You're rubbing your scar again, Harry!"
Granger's voice was a hiss and Severus frowned as he leaned further back into the alcove while the trio of troublemakers walked by.
"It always hurts when Quirrell's around for some reason."
"But it's never, ever hurt before, you said! I think you need to tell someone, Harry. A professor or Madam Pomphrey—"
"Tell them what, Hermione? That looking my Defense teacher in the eye makes my old curse scar twinge?"
"I dunno, mate. Makes you sound a bit mental, you know?"
Potter's response was inaudible as they rounded the corner, leaving a perplexed Severus frowning after them. Why would looking at Quirrell make a curse scar hurt? Particularly the scar produced by the Killing Curse? It was just another piece of the puzzle presented by Quirrell, which frustrated Severus even more, as he hated puzzles.
"—the bbboy can't knnow anything—"
Severus heard Quirrell stutter as the door to the classroom slowly closed. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as another voice responded, too low for him to make out. With a quiet snick, the door shut and Severus knew he wouldn't hear anything else. Quirrell rarely seemed to venture out of his classroom or quarters lately, except to eat in the Great Hall, but Severus suspected Quirrell was somehow involved in the slaughter of a unicorn in the Forbidden Forest. He was determined to find out why.
Moving silently out of the alcove, Severus made sure there was no one else around before casting a charm on the hallway in front of the classroom door. It would vibrate Severus' wand if Quirrell left the rooms. With the majority of the students leaving first thing in the morning for the Christmas holidays, Severus would have time to get to the bottom of this mystery. He headed for the third floor corridor to do a security check and afterwards, he would go speak to Albus about his Defense teacher. Something wasn't right and Severus was going to find out what it was.
"Gred! Catch!"
Harry laughed as he watched one of the Weasley twins throw the Quaffle at his brother. He still wasn't sure which one was Fred and which was George. The ball sailed over the other twin's head and above a row of hedges behind him as the rest of the group heckled the thrower. Rolling his eyes, Harry took off after the Quaffle.
"I'll get it!" he called over his shoulder, trotting around the hedge and down a sloping part of the lawn.
"Sorry, Harry!"
"Forge! There's Quirrell! Let's see if we can knock that turban off!"
Harry lifted a hand in acknowledgement of the twins banter. He didn't really mind retrieving the ball since he still had the dull headache that had started in Quirrell's class the day before and running made it throb. His eyes caught sight of the red ball as it bounced down the hill, disappearing into the falling snow. Only having his school cloak to keep him warm, Harry wrapped his arms around himself as the cold wind picked up, blowing the snow sideways. Hurrying, Harry started to slide down the steep slope into the tree line as he searched for the Quaffle, wanting nothing more than a mug of hot chocolate in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room. The snow wasn't too bad under the trees, but Harry had lost sight of the ball and wasn't sure which way it went.
Suddenly, Harry's foot caught on a tree root and his ankle twisted, sending a sharp pain up his leg. Harry tried to get his balance, but it was too late. He pitched forward down the slope, hands scrabbling wildly to grab a hold of anything as he tumbled down, when his head hit something and everything went black.
Severus Apparated to the ward boundaries closest to the castle, hoping to get the supplies he'd bought insude before anything happened to them. The stretch of forest he had to hike through was dense enough to hopefully keep the snow off him, Severus thought, pausing to renew the Warming Charm on his cloak. It would also take him by a small stand of willow, where he could harvest the much needed bark to replenish those stores.
Setting off, Severus planned to skirt the bottom of the steepest slope as the snow fall became heavier. He was very familiar with this section of the forest, having been the designated Apparation area for him during the time he spied for Albus in the first war. It gave Severus a destination that he could focus on when he'd been subjected to the Dark Lord's wrath for one reason or another. A shiver ran down Severus' spine as he thought of the faint twinges he'd felt in his Dark Mark since the start of the school term. While he agreed with Albus that the Dark Lord had not been vanquished on that horrid night, Severus had hoped never to have to deal with the bastard again.
The harvesting of the willow bark took only a few minutes, after which Severus continued through the forest. Picking his way through the worsening storm, Severus swore as he saw the blue aura to the falling snow; an indicator that it contained a magical element. He swore softly under his breath. Weather that managed to stir up the elemental magic and attach itself to the natural electrical charge inherent in storms, played havoc for Wizarding kind. Even the simplest spells could go awry and more complex magic simply didn't work until the storm passed. Only those spells, like protection charms, which were rooted in earth magics, seemed unaffected.
Pulling the hood of his cloak over his forehead, Severus lower his head and trudged forward. If he made good time, he'd still be able to have tea at a halfway decent hour. His toe caught on something, causing him to stumble, but grunt of pain stopped him in his tracks. Slowly stepping back, Severus looked to the ground to find what looked like a child laying there.
"Bloody hell!" He snapped, recognizing the black student's cloak immediately.
Severus squatted down, seizing a shoulder as he turned the child over and was horrified to see blood trailing down one cheek. He gingerly lifted the cloak off where it obscured most of the face and felt his heart stutter to see a deathly pale Harry Potter.
"Of course," he whispered. "Who else is stupid enough to be out in this weather?"
Closing his eyes briefly, Severus took a deep breath to will the anger away before lowering himself down on one knee to try to assess the damage. A diagnostic charm was unpredictable in the storm so Severus stripped off his gloves, stuffing them into his pocket. He wasn't surprised when he felt a lump on the side of Potter's head, his fingers coming away bloody. A quick check of the child's neck and spine proved no deformations that Severus could feel, which was reassuring as he knew he could safely carry Potter.
Taking care, Severus cautiously lifted the boy, surprised at how light the eleven-year-old was. The falling snow was being pushed by the wind and after fifteen minutes of trudging through it, Severus wasn't sure whether he was going in the right direction or simple going in circles. An ancient tree, its center split centuries ago by lightning, became visible on his left and Severus paused, Potter's bloodied head flopping against his chest. Severus stared at it for a long minute, before pulling out a long buried memory from behind his Occulmency shields, a scrap of paper that read:
A clearing pushed its way under the branches of the ancient tree, a dark square shape seemed to be materializing out of the whiteness. Severus bent his head to the wind and fought his way under the tree and around the building to the front door. Pressing his hand against the wall, Severus watched the wood shimmer and become a door. With his shoulder, Severus pushed it open and stepped into the cabin he'd last used over ten years prior. Despite that, he could see by the grey light filtering through the window the room was immaculate – clean, stocked, and just the way Severus remembered it. The single room held a double bed in one corner, a small table with a pair of straight-back chairs, a kitchenette, and had an attached loo.
Severus headed towards the bed and carefully laid Potter on top of it. If the protective fields were still in place, then Albus would be alerted that he was there. Although he was sure the fireplace was no longer hooked up to the Floo network, Severus wouldn't have tried to Floo with the storm raging around them anyway. Crouching down in front of the hearth, Severus could see there was a fire already laid, Muggle style. Drawing his wand, he carefully cast an Incedio. A flash of flame had him jumping back, the magic swirling within the storm amplifying the spell. The fire subsided quickly and Severus was relieved to see that the wood was the only thing burning.
Straightening up, he was glad for the additional light. Severus turned back towards the bed where Potter lay unmoving. Once again Severus tapped down the irritation at the arrogance of this student, who had obviously been out of bounds and had no regard for the weather conditions, or those who would be forced to search for him. The first thing he needed to do was to get the boy out of his wet clothing before they soaked the bedding. He knelt by the bed with a grimace. Thankfully the cabin was small enough to warm easily, he thought, as he methodically removed the cloak and dropped it on the floor. Potter's student robes came next and Severus paused fractionally at the huge, hideous gray jumper underneath. The boy's jeans were several sizes too big for him as well, being held together by a length of frayed rope. Potter didn't even have the sense to wear boots and the battered trainers he wore were filthy. Severus sneered, even the boy's pants and socks were an ugly gray and too big for him.
With his clothes removed, Severus turned back to take a look at Potter and froze. While he could see scrapes and contusions already forming on the boy's arms and legs, it was the thinness of his whole body that gave Severus pause. He knew Potter had access to food at Hogwarts and seemed to have a healthy appetite, making his thinness even more unsettling. What had the boy looked like when he'd arrived in September? Shaking himself, Severus began to examine Potter for injuries and found what appeared to be an ankle fracture, along with the lump on his head. He frowned at the scars he saw on the boy's arms and legs, mentally documenting each one before turning Potter over to examine his back.
Severus was stunned at the familiar scars he discovered on Potter's back, buttocks, and upper thighs. He himself had similar marks where the buckle on his father's belt had broken the skin, but Severus was astonished to find them littering the body of James Potter's son. That, added to the fact Severus could count every rib, as well as his short stature told Severus that Harry Potter was a neglected, abused child.
The world tilted on its axis as Severus stared at the evidence, his hand moving softly across the child's back. Lily Evans would be furious and Severus, himself, had failed in his vow to keep her son safe.
A groan from said child pulled him from his recriminations and Severus quickly finished his examination before pulling the blankets over him. Moving to the small table in the corner, Severus began to remove the various packages he had been carrying in his pockets. Most of his supplies had been shrunken for easy transport, with only a few full size ingredients that reacted adversely to magic. He took stock of what he had and debated on trying to unshrink them, but wasn't sure how the spell would affect the ingredients in the current storm.
Severus stepped closer to the wall near the window and relief surged through him as several cupboards appeared. Carefully opening one, Severus was delighted to find one of the cupboards held food stores and another basic potions with supplies; both of them under a stay-fresh stasis spell. Reaching in and removing a general analgesic potion, Severus silently gave thanks to the house-elves for their diligence in keeping the cabin clean and stocked. There were a number of recuperative and strengthening potions in the cupboard and Severus chose one of each. It would seem these had come out of the potions that Severus brewed each summer for the hospital wing. Although, he saw no Skele-Gro, something Potter would need if his skull was fractured.
Potter chose that moment to moan and try to roll over, Severus leaping across the room to help support the boy's head and neck as he moved him onto his back. Cursing the inability to run a diagnostic spell over Potter, Severus grimaced as he used his fingers to delicately feel the bloody lump on the side of Potter's head. While quite swollen, it didn't feel like there was any fracture to the skull, much to Severus' relief.
A dark bruise was forming on Potter's right wrist and forearm, but no deformity to the bones there. Nasty contusions on the right shoulder and the rapidly swelling right ankle seemed to round out the worst of the boy's injuries.
Severus found a flannel in the small bathroom, where he filled a small cauldron with water and set it by the fireplace to warm. Gently, Severus lifted Potter's head up off the pillow and tilted his head back. He thumbed the cork out of the top of the vial and slowly poured the pain relieving potion into his mouth. Dropping the vial, Severus massaged Potter's throat, encouraging him to swallow. Despite the boy's sputtering and choking, the majority of the potion went down, but Potter continued to wheeze even after he'd stopped coughing.
The fire had made the room comfortable Severus noticed as he checked the cauldron and found it had warmed the water sufficiently. He pulled back the blankets and used a flannel to clean the blood off of Potter's head and face, as well as the lacerations on his limbs. When he finished, Severus dried his hands and silently Summoned Bruise Paste he'd seen in the cupboard. The sound of the small jar racing towrds him at the speed of a Bludger had Severus dropping over Potter as it sailed by and thudded against the wall. Severus offered a thanks for Unbreakable Charms as he retrieved the jar and spread the paste over the bruises beginning to appear on Potter's body. Particularly nasty were the bruises on the boy's right side, an indication of where his body had impacted as he tumbled down the hill.
Potter's continued unconsciousness troubled Severus as he drew the blankets over the boy, adding his cloak for good measure. He could see Potter's cheeks were flushed and a hand to his forehead confirmed to Severus that Potter was running a fever. Of course, the one potion Severus didn't currently possess was a fever reducer. The fever wasn't high, Severus observed, hand still on Potter's forehead, and could possibly be from his exposure to the cold. Severus would have to watch it and hope the storm would blow over before it became a problem.
Drawing a chair up beside the bed, Severus pondered the enigma that was Harry Potter. He was easily the smallest child in his year, thin to the point of emaciated, and Severus knew too well what method of discipline inflicted the type of scars he'd seen on Potter's back. He studied Potter's face, noting that without his glasses, Potter didn't resemble his father much at all. In fact, if anyone, Potter resembled Lily's father, who had greeted Severus warmly every time he'd been to the Evans home. While the boy had his father's hair and face shape, everything else was Lily.
As if aware of his scrutiny, Potter shifted restlessly and his head turned. Mindful of possible injuries to the boy's neck, Severus leaned forward and put a restraining hand on Potter's forehead. It was noticeably warmer and Severus frowned as he took in the flushed cheeks. The last thing he needed was a sick child—
"No! Please!" Potter's sudden cry made Severus step back in surprise. "I'm sorry, Uncle! I didn't mean to…please don't...please!"
Potter began thrashing around, as if trying to ward off blows. Severus attempted to hold his head still as he still wasn't sure whether Potter had sustained any damage to his spine, but it seemed to make things worse.
"Potter!" Severus moved a hand down to Potter's uninjured left shoulder and grabbed it, shaking him lightly. "Wake-up!"
Potter recoiled violently, throwing himself away from Severus, who lunged after him and wrapped his arms around the boy. "Pot—Harry! I'm not going to hurt you!"
He kept repeating the same words over and over, restraining Potter against his chest to keep the boy from further injuring himself. It took several long minutes before Potter subsided and his eyes blinked open, looking blurrily up at him.
"I'm sorry, unc—sir?" Potter seemed bewildered to see him there. "What—"
Severus eased him back down onto the bed and pulled the blanket back over him. "You apparently fell and injured yourself, but the storm has worsened with no way of getting back to the castle."
His voice came out harsher than Severus had intended and guilt hit him in the gut as the child flinched. Severus was very familiar with the reaction and the only realistic reason any child would have it. Memories of his father and his heavy-handed way surfaced, but Severus forced them back. Perhaps it was time to reconsider his assumption about the boy's upbringing.
With effort, Severus gentled his voice. "Are you in pain?"
"'m fine, sir," Potter told him, his eyes wide with apprehension.
"You should know by now that I don't tolerate lies," Severus sneered, leaning forward slightly as he brought his hand up where Potter could see it. "I know that you definitely do not feel fine."
"I—my head and ankle hurt," Potter said softly, warily watching him as Severus laid the back of his hand against the flushed cheek. "My chest feels—funny."
"And you are running a fever, it would appear." Severus reached for the blanket, keeping his movements slow and nonthreatening, seeing Potter's hand clench on the top edge. "I need to check your chest, Pot—Harry."
"I—"
Severus took pity on the boy as he began to draw back a corner. "I've already seen them," he said quietly. "I, too, have similar scars." He wasn't sure why he had revealed that to Potter, but was relieved to see the green eyes widen in understanding instead of narrow in scorn, as James Potter's eyes would have.
Concentrating, Severus could see no reason for the discomfort. He ignored the shiver that went through the boy as he tapped on the top of his chest, frowning as he didn’t hear the characteristic hollow sound of healthy lungs. Severus leaned down and pressed his ear against Potter’s chest, not surprised to hear wheezing. Just what he needed to deal with, Severus thought as he straightened and pulled the blanket back over the boy. Potter was congested and feverish, on top of the injuries he’d sustained from the fall. His mind went over the potions and ingredients he had seen in the cupboard and what he'd brought with him from his shopping trip.
"Have you been ill?"
Potter started to shake his head, only to cease instantly, a grimace of pain flashing across his face. "No, I'm fine, except for the pain in my scar..."
Severus arched an eyebrow as Potter trailed off, but remained silent as he retrieved another pain potion and opened it. "Drink half of that vial, as I've already given you another when we got here."
Potter's hands shook and in the end, Severus had to help him sit up and he took the vial to tilt the right amount into Potter's mouth. By the time he'd settled the boy back onto the pillow, his face was white from the exertion and Severus felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest. His eyes closed, his chest visibly rose and fell as Potter tried to suck in a deep breath, ending up in a coughing fit. Automatically, Severus reached for Potter—Harry, sitting him up and holding him until the coughing eased. His mind was already determining how he was going to brew the potions the child needed in these abysmal conditions.
Rolling his cloak up, Severus positioned it behind the pillow to keep Pot—Harry in a reclining position. Silently cursing the magical blizzard still raging outside, Severus retrieved another small cauldron from the cupboard and carried it through to the bathroom along with the other he'd used to bath Harry's face. He knew he had enough willow bark and feverfew to make a fever reducer, but he didn't have the goldenseal he needed for a lung infection. The anti-inflammatory properties of feverfew would help and Severus was sure he had dried eucalyptus in the cupboard. It wasn't very strong in that form, but it was all he had to help with the congestion.
Severus quickly cleaned both cauldrons, filled them half-full with water, and brought them back to the fireplace. Hanging them over the fire to warm, Severus returned to the cupboard and gathered the ingredients he would need. The preparations took little thought, which allowed Severus to shift through the new information he'd learned in the past couple hours about Lily Evans' son. Alternating the two, Severus used the fireplace implements to bring one of the cauldrons to him, stir in the necessary ingredients, and push it back to the edge of the heat. By the time he had both of the potions in their final simmering phase, his hands were burned and his robes singed.
Harry had been silent during the several hours it had taken him to bre;, more unconscious than asleep, and very restless. It was obvious by the way his head flipped agitatedly back and forth on the pillow that the boy was reliving less then pleasant moments in his life, but he had not cried out again. It was nevertheless disconcerting to Severus when he straightened from the fireplace and moved to the bed to see tears running down Harry's face. Watching him for a moment, Severus found himself picturing another dark-haired child, silently crying as his drunken father threatened him with a raised hand. Lily had always comforted him and soothed him after one of his father's tirades, but young Harry hadn't had anyone to soften the blow for him.
Laying a hand on the boy's burning forehead, Severus realized his vow to protect Lily's son needed to go deeper than simply defending him from the Dark Lord when he rose again. Severus suspected Harry's home life was much more like his own than what Lily or Potter had experienced in their youths. Severus vowed he would not allow Lily's son to be abused any longer. He brushed Harry's fringe off his sweaty forehead, exposing the lightning bolt shaped scar. The scar seemed enflamed, which was puzzling for an old curse scar, but even more surprising was the way Harry leaned into his touch. Could the child truly be so starved for affection that he would accept it even from someone like Severus?
Harry made a small sound and Severus snatched his hand back, but the crying had abated, thank Merlin. Severus turned back towards the fire, checking on the Fever Reducing Potion. It appeared to be slightly darker in color that normal, most probably caused by the interaction between the salicin in the willow bark and the pewter. It would lessen the effectiveness of the potion, but Severus could adjust the dosage to compensate. Removing the cauldron from the heat, he spooned out enough for an initial dose and set the rest on the hearth to cool down. The decongestant was a shade lighter than proper and Severus let it continue to simmer, able to smell the eucalyptus aroma that was beginning to fill the air.
As he waited for the potion to cool, Severus noticed the light was fading. He stepped up to the window and surveyed the scene. It was still storming, the heavy snow being blown sideways by the wind and the trees were merging into the shadows indicating the approach of nightfall. What was encouraging, was the lessening of the blue aura surrounding the swirling maelstrom. It appeared the magical portion of the blizzard was diminishing and it might be possible to alert the Headmaster to their whereabouts. However, before he did so, Severus needed to make sure the child was well enough to be taken out into the brutal cold and live to reach the castle.
Moving back to the fire place, Severus added another log and picked up the dose of potion to check the temperature. It had cool sufficiently and Severus carried it back to the bed. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, Severus slide his left arm around Harry's back and sat him up.
"Harry, I need you to swallow this potion," Severus told him, surprised at the heat being given off by the child's body. "Open your mouth." Harry's head lolled backwards. "Potter!"
Potter startled, his eyes blinking blurrily at Severus who used the advantage to pour the potion into his mouth. Severus dropped the cup and drew Harry against him as the boy started to choke on the liquid, patting him on the back. When the spasming stopped and Severus heard Harry take a wheezing breath, he set him back against the pillow. Taking the cup, Severus moved to get water, checking on the simmering potion as he went by.
"Here's some water." Severus held the cup to Harry's lips for him to drink.
Harry raised his uninjured arm, his hand shaking as he tried to grip the cup and gulp water.
"Slowly," Severus admonished sharply, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline as Harry flinched. "Shhh, it's all right, Harry. I promise, I'll never raise my hand to you in anger."
Harry blinked up at him, his eyes wary, but he gave Severus a short nod and opened his mouth for the cup of water. Severus watched as he sipped slowly, before sliding back into unconsciousness against Severus' chest. After easing him back down to the pillow, Severus pulled the Decongestant Potion off the heat and when it had sufficiently cooled, he repeated the process once again. He continued with the sequence as nighttime arrived, rotating the potions with some soup and weak tea he'd found in the stores. Harry swallowed whatever Severus asked him to, the cycle continuing amidst nightmares of his uncle and something that caused Harry to cry out in pain.
Laying his head on the bed, Severus was exhausted, his mind trying to create a stronger fever reducer from the meager supplies he had on hand. He must have drifted off, dreaming of a small hand gently patting his hair, and rousing only when Harry began to have a coughing fit, wheezing audibly with each intake of breath. He rolled Harry onto his side and pounded gently on his back in an effort to dislodge some of the phlegm he knew was filling Harry's lungs. A hand to the child's forehead showed that he was burning with fever, but Severus knew he wouldn't be able to give him any more of the potion for another hour.
Shaking his head to clear it, Severus stood up and walked to the window. Even in the darkness, Severus could see the storm had let up in intensity. The snow continued to fall thickly, but gently outside. The air itself felt lighter and the last of his sleepiness fled as Severus realized the magical portion of the storm seemed to have passed. Just as he took his wand out of his pocket to test a spell, Harry hissed in pain and began to thrash on the bed.
"No! NO!" Harry clawed at his forehead, tears running down his face.
Severus had the boy scooped into his arms, restraining Harry's hands as he spoke softly to him. "It's all right, Harry! No one will hurt you, I promise!" It surprised him that Severus meant every word.
Harry threw his head back, his back bowing as he shuddered through a convulsion. Severus swore and eased Harry back onto the bed, keeping one hand on his chest as Harry jerked. The seizure was more than likely febrile, but he knew Harry's fever had to come down immediately, before irreparable damage was done. Flexing his arm, Severus gripped his wand as it slid into his hand and thought of the day he and Lily had received their Hogwarts letters.
"Expecto Patronum!"
The silver doe sprang gracefully from the end of his wand and nuzzled his hand. "Go to Dumbledore, tell him Harry Potter is very ill and we need transport into the castle!"
The doe cantered out the wall and Severus spelled Harry's clothes back on him, finally wrapping him in the blanket from the bed. Quickly Severus gathered his ingredients and threw his cloak around his shoulders. A flick of his wand cleaned out the two small cauldrons and set the room to rights. He had just lifted Harry into his arms when Fawkes appeared in a flash of scarlet light.
"Thank Merlin!" Severus was flooded with a sense of relief, extinguishing the fire and wrapping his hand around the Phoenix's tail. "Take me to my quarters, Fawkes, and please hurry!"
"--he's not going back, Albus! I won't have it!"
Harry frowned when he recognized Snape's voice and wondered what he was doing in the Gryffindor dorms. He tried to lift his head, but it was throbbing too badly.
"Harry hasn't complained about his treatment at home, Severus, although I admit to being surprised by his stature."
Professor Dumbledore was there as well, Harry thought hazily, burrowing into the comfortable bed. His nose didn't seem as stuffy as it had been.
"He was having nightmares about those Muggles! That is good enough for me! Lily was my best friend, Albus, and I can't fathom leaving her son in an atmosphere of neglect, if not outright abuse!"
"Severus, I'm sure Petunia loves him as much as she did Lily—"
Harry snorted and struggled to open his eyes.
"That's what I'm afraid of, Albus, as she always hated Lily!"
"Hated Lily? But—"
"Why don't we just go ask her?"
Harry grinned at the thought of his professor knocking on Aunt Petunia's door. She wouldn't know what hit her, he thought and then he lost the battle to stay awake.
Harry didn't know how long he'd slept, but the next time he woke, he knew he wasn't alone. Professor Snape had his head pillowed on his arms on the side of Harry's bed and he was shocked at how bad his professor looked. There were circles under his eyes and dark stubble along his chin, as if he'd been there caring for Harry for a long time. Harry reached out his hand and let the tips of his fingers brush through the strand of lank hair that had fallen across Snape's cheek.
Gasping as Snape's eyes popped open, Harry yanked his hand back fearfully.
"Harry! How do you feel?"
Snape sat up and reached for him, but Harry flinched away automatically. The hand stopped for a moment until Harry sheepishly relaxed and then continued to his forehead.
"I'm fine, sir." Harry glanced at his face before looking at his tightly clasped hands. "Where are we?"
"Fine is not an appropriate answer, Mr. Potter," Snape said in a quiet voice. "We are in your bedroom."
Harry's eyes snapped up and he looked frantically around, but he didn't recognize the room. "I—I don't have a bedroom, sir. Weren't we somewhere else before?"
"Initially we were in a small cottage in the woods—"
Harry was a bit leery of this nice Professor Snape and hoped he wasn't being that way because Harry was dying.
"—where you had ventured, like an idiotic Gryffindor, wholly unprepared for the weather and had the grace to fall down a rocky slope!"
There he was, Harry thought, allowing himself a small smile. "Where are we now?"
"We are in your bedroom—"
Harry's chest ached as he struggled to sit up. "I don't—"
Snape helped him up, shooting him a quelling glare. "In your bedroom in my quarters at Hogwarts."
Staring at Snape in disbelief, Harry obediently took the potions handed to him, his mind reeling. He remembered snippets of conversation that seemed like a dream and then his felt his heart stutter.
"Professor Snape? My aunt—"
A pair of dark eyes watched him intently. "Petunia saw the value of you having a magical guardian and has relinquished custody of you to me."
Harry blinked at him and then threw himself at Snape. He wrapped his arms around Snape's neck and didn't even try to stop the tears that leaked out.
"I don't ever have to go back?" Harry managed to murmur several minutes later.
Snape cleared his throat, one hand patting him lightly on the back. "You will go back each summer for one week, with me, while your relatives are on holiday." He pushed Harry far enough away to look into his eyes. "You will never have to worry about them again, Harry."
"But you hate me," Harry forced out around the lump in his throat. "Why would you want to help me?"
It was Snape's turn to look away, but he quickly turned back, his eyes intense. "I don't hate you, Harry. I didn't get along with your father, it's true, but your mum was my best friend, and I believe she'd be happy knowing you were here with me."
"Sounds like you liked her better than my aunt did," Harry said sadly, reassured by something he saw in Snape's eyes.
"I loved Lily very much," Snape told him softly and Harry believed him.
"Thank you," was all he could think to say, but it seemed enough for Snape as he stood.
"Now that we've settled that, I am assuming your head still aches. Am I correct?"
Still smiling, Harry nodded. "And my chest feels kind of tight."
Several vials of potions appeared in front of him, resting on Snape's hand. "First, you will take your potions—"
Harry swallowed each one handed him, trying not to shudder at the taste.
"—then you will eat some porridge and drink hot cocoa, before you even contemplate opening your Christmas gifts."
"Gifts?" Harry looked around, spotting a small pile at the end of his bed and his eyes widened. "Are they really for me?"
Snape nodded at him as he settled a tray over Harry's lap.
A grin split Harry's face as he looked at the gaily wrapped presents. "I've never had a Christmas present before!"
"You do now. Happy Christmas, Harry." Snape actually looked like he was smiling, Harry thought, just a little bit.
"Happy Christmas, sir!" Harry began to eat as fast as he could, sure he'd wake up and the lovely dream would be gone.
Snape laid a hand on his arm. "Slow down, Harry, you need to eat as much as you can without making yourself sick. Your gifts aren't going anywhere."
Forcing himself to eat slower, Harry marveled at the thought that while he might be a snarky git to Gryffindors, Snape didn't strike him as a man who would make Harry go without food.
"Furthermore, young man, we will be having a conversation about Professor Quirrell and why he makes your scar hurt," Snape said in a voice that promised dire consequences to someone and Harry was pretty sure it wasn't him.
Harry glanced furtively at Snape who ate his own breakfast of tea and toast, deciding, as a warm feeling filled him, the best gift ever was someone who cared about him.
"Happy Christmas to me!" Harry muttered, overjoyed.