Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Chapter 7
Severus let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. Finally. He had expected for the boy to lock the door, but he clearly had underestimated how weakened Harry was already.

This would require careful planning. And he would have to stay in his uncomfortable hiding place among the roof beams for a while longer.

He had a good view from here, at least.

Why had Harry placed money on the nightstand? He couldn’t expect it to protect him against anything. Severus knew a few ancient warding rituals, and none involved galleons. Not that a boy this age was likely to know about it. Especially with the upbringing he got.

After some very uncomfortable minutes, Severus was sure the boy was asleep and, placing a silence charm around himself, lowered himself from the roofbeams onto the armchair with its faded purple and green flower pattern.

There was that. What now? Staying in the room meant he would be immediately alerted when the boy woke.

Or just wake him and give him pepperup potion, which he clearly needed?

On the other hand, Harry wouldn’t trust the doe patronus anymore if he felt betrayed by her.

And it always paid to plan for the future. Severus had always been a bit too impulsive for a Slytherin, but you didn’t spend ten years under the thumb of Albus Dumbledore without learning something.

Severus had thought of himself as cunning, but had soon realized that he was a mere beginner.

Albus Dumbledore did not make plans, as such. Instead, he kept his options open. He never needlessly offended someone who might become useful in the future. He ensured that people owed him favours, the more, the better. Severus liked to think that there was some genuine kindness in the man, but at least his treatment of Lupin had not been just that.

After all, Dumbledore had been rather unkind to Severus in ensuring Lupin’s continued presence at school. The maths was easy. There was only one werewolf who could be won over to Dumbledore’s side, but there were lots of future Death Eaters.

And still, Dumbledore had tried to keep that door open, too. Severus would never have come to him to ask for help had the old man not acted like he felt empathy for him after the werewolf incident, if he had not assured Severus that he could always come to him and talk.

Yes, it was better to keep all doors open.

A true disciple of Dumbledore, Severus wasn’t even sure himself if he was driven by kindness or cunning when he silently left the room.

**

Harry woke from a nightmare in what felt like the middle of the night. He was covered in sweat and shivering with cold, despite the thick blanket.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, this time, his coughing produced disgusting phlegm. Harry reached for his shirt and wiped his mouth with it. He couldn’t leave traces on the bedding.

The doe was there, nudging him with her nose.

“Thanks for staying”, he muttered in between laboured breaths. His chest hurt horribly. He had no idea how late it was. Perhaps he should get dressed and out before dawn?

But he just couldn’t bring himself to move. Not when the note at the door had said that there wasn’t even any danger of someone entering the room to clean.

The doe faded, but Harry didn’t have much time to be disappointed before sleep claimed him once again.

When he woke the next time, the doe’s nudging seemed somewhat more urgent. “You mean I ought to leave?”

She inclined her head, then faded.

Harry struggled into his trousers, only kept upright by fear. When he tried to put his shirt on, he heard the door creak.

Damn!

He looked around for his cloak. Where had he left it in the night? He was sure it had been on the armchair!

“My apologies, I didn’t know the innkeeper had - ” The man who had entered stopped speaking, and Harry knew exactly why.

It was Snape.

Of course it was Snape who’d find him in this state. Of course. The only thing Harry could rely on was his bad luck.

“Back to bed with you, Potter.”

No questions? No accusations? “But - ” Harry could think of a dozen good reasons why he shouldn’t. The fact that Snape had slept in that bed was at the top of the list, but there were more. His attempt at a reply was interrupted by a bad bout of coughing.

“No buts.” Snape stepped closer. “You are obviously unwell. Does your chest hurt? Not just now, but all the time?”

“How’d you know?” Had Snape cursed him somehow? Part of Harry knew the illness was more likely to be the cause of it.

“It seems you acquired a case of pneumonia.”

Pneu- what? Harry recalled having heard the term, but wasn’t quite sure what it meant. “So what?”

“You could die before the term starts. Then Madam Pomfrey won’t be able to help you. She’s a healer, not a necromancer.”

Harry didn’t want to believe Snape, but his chest did ache quite a lot more than it ever had. And he definitely did feel sick and weak.

He sat down on the bed. “What do you want, Snape?”

“That’s Professor Snape to you.” Snape sounded more weary than angry. He must have been up all night. Busy, the note on the door had said. “As you have probably deduced from my presence, I have been tasked by Headmaster Dumbledore with finding you. It was implied, though not explicitly stated, that he would prefer you to stay alive. So if you would kindly get back into bed?”

Harry wanted to refuse, out of sheer stubbornness, but his body had other ideas. Now that the worst threat was a scolding from Snape, something he’d endured and survived several times, the fear that had kept him going was gone.

He simply collapsed.

“Not quite what I had in mind, but it will suffice.” Snape drew closer, lifted Harry’s legs onto the bed and covered him with the blanket.

“Don’t you want to take me to Dumbledore?” Or, more likely, to the Burrow. Where he’d end up in any case, just as he had always ended up back at the Dursleys after his, in retrospect, very badly planned attempts to run away.

“You are clearly in no state to be taken anywhere. Just stay in bed and take your potion.” Snape took a small vial from his pocket and held it in front of Harry. “This is a potion against pneumonia. It will need some hours to really take effect, so don’t expect to feel better as soon as you would with pepperup. On the other hand, you will not smoke from your ears, which I am sure is a relief.”

“How do I know it’s not something else?” The vial wasn’t labeled. It could contain anything at all.

“Potter. If I wanted you dead, I could just have left you out on the streets. Or have let you return there.”

“Could still be something to knock me out”, Harry grumbled.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “So now you choose to doubt my word when, not so long ago, you risked your life on a message written by me?”

“What message?” Was he thinking slower than usual, or was Snape playing one of his nasty games again?

“Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind ... sound familiar?”

Oh. The potions riddle. “That was different. You didn’t know I would be there.”

“No, indeed not. The only reason the bottles didn’t all contain poison was because Dumbledore thought it unsportsmanlike. After all, I expected Quirrell, and only Quirrell, to be there.” Snape glared at him. “If I taste a drop of this, will you drink it? Your recovery will take longer with a lower dose, but that’s not my problem.”

It had never occurred to Harry that Snape might have lied on the riddle. He was right, though, he was just as likely to lie in writing as in person. “Uh ... okay.”

Snape knelt next to the bed, opened the vial, held it high over his head and let a drop fall on his tongue. “There. I am, obviously, still alive. And awake.”

“Sorry, sir”, Harry mumbled. Perhaps he had been rude to suspect Snape might want to poison him. After all, both Voldemort and Dumbledore had told him Snape didn’t want him dead.

“Just drink it.” Snape pressed the vial into Harry’s hands, and Harry held it to his lips, then gulped it down as fast as possible. It didn’t burn like pepperup potion did. The only taste was one of ... forest air?

It did seem to ease his breathing.

“You gave me your word, Potter. I released your owl, and now you will obey me, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir”, Harry ground out between his teeth. Perhaps he shouldn’t have made that promise, seeing as Snape had taken him away the next day anyway ... but then, Snape might not have done that if he hadn’t ...

“Speaking of which, I think that is she.” He walked to the window and opened it.

Something white swooped into the room and sat on one of the roof beams. Hedwig!

Snape closed the window again. “I will now go downstairs and order something to eat for you. Vegetable broth, I think? Or do you suppose you can keep something more substantial down?” Snape looked at him questioningly.

What? Since when did Snape care about him getting food? He hadn’t cared at the Dursleys’, he certainly didn’t care now. Did he think Harry would starve without food? “I’m not hungry.” He didn’t think he could drink broth, even. Perhaps water.

“Very well. Stay put.”


Harry was terribly confused. Why was Snape being so ... well, not nice, but less nasty than usual. Or so he supposed. He hadn’t met the man outside school before, after all.

He had been rather okay at Privet Drive, too, but Harry had thought that was because he needed Harry’s knowledge on the Dursley routine.

Hedwig looked like she’d never been away. Harry had to admit he hadn’t thought of her much while he was in hiding. She was, after all, an owl, and well capable of hunting her own food.

The way she was looking down on him, it didn’t seem like she felt neglected. More like she thought she needed to watch over Harry.
It made him smile.

Soon, his thoughts were interrupted by Snape’s return. “Here’s your broth.” Snape placed the tray on the nightstand, then stared at Harry. “Don’t startle, I will put an enlargement charm on your pillow.”

Harry was glad he had been warned when the pillow grew fatter and fatter, putting him into a sitting position without him doing anything. He hastily tucked the blanket behind his shoulders so it wouldn’t reveal his naked chest.

“There. Can you eat without assistance?”

“I guess so? Sir.” Harry reached for the tray, but Snape was quicker.

He took the tray and gingerly placed it on Harry’s lap. “Now eat.”

It felt weird. More than weird. This was Snape! And he talked exactly like Harry would have expected him to, but his actions just didn’t match.

Harry had seen his fair share of horror movies – back when Dudley had still been scared of them, he’d delighted in making Harry watch them – and Snape doing this typical villain thing where the villain did something that could have been nice but in a horrible way, like stroking the head of a child he’d just murdered, would have seemed fitting.

But Harry was alive, the broth was not poison – it smelled like broth and Harry had already eaten two spoonfuls when the thought occurred to him – and Snape was not using a creepily sweet voice, just his ordinary gruff one.

He hadn’t yet finished the broth when he felt exhausted by the mere act of eating. He let the spoon glide back into the bowl and leant onto the oversized pillow in his back, trying to get some rest.

Snape, who had sat down in the armchair, got up and took the tray away, placing it back on the nightstand. The pillow shrank to its previous size, forcing Harry to lie down again.“How do you feel? Does your chest still hurt?”

Did it? “Not as much as before.”

“You do seem to breathe easier. Still, my expertise is in potions, not in healing.” Snape frowned. “Perhaps I should take you to St. Mungo’s.”


St. What?

“The magical hospital.”

“That’s not necessary, sir, I feel much better, really, doesn’t hurt at all.”

Snape raised his eyebrows. He clearly didn’t believe Harry.

“You are aware that means you’ll stay here with me?” When Harry didn’t answer, Snape continued: “Any particular reason you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

“I just don’t feel like dealing with people who’ll ask if I am really THE Harry Potter, okay?”

“That is hardly more important than your survival. Very well. I have things to do. Is there anything you need before I leave? An additional blanket, perhaps?”

Snape still talked the same way he usually did – well, the way he talked when he wasn’t angry at Harry, which was rare. Still, it was weird.

“Thanks, but I’m fine”, Harry claimed. Sure, it would have been nice for someone to change the sheet, as it was still a bit damp with his sweat, but the sooner Snape was gone, the better.

“Is that so? Just in case ...” Snape drew his wand, and before Harry could wonder what he was going to do, a large towel floated out of the bathroom and landed on the blanket.

“And I do believe there was a hot water bottle somewhere here. Ah, yes.”

Snape took something Harry would never have taken for a hot water bottle out from below the bed. It was made of metal!

Some spell Snape used made it fill with steaming water. He closed the opening and placed it under the blanket. “There. Don’t burn yourself.” Snape stared at Harry. “Considering that you rarely do as you are told ...” He turned abruptly and summoned another towel from the bathroom. This one, he wrapped around the hot water bottle. “There. Stay put while I am away. Unless, of course, you are attacked. You have your wand?”

“Uh ... it must be here, somewhere.” Harry found it after some searching – under the pillow, where he would have left it had he actually gotten around to fleeing the room.

“Good.”

And then, in a blur of black, Snape was gone. Without using the door. Must be something magical.

Harry considered running away. Briefly, and mostly out of habit. The bed was so soft, and if he wrapped himself in the dry towel, it would also be warm, and he actually had a hot water bottle.

That was something usually only Dudley got. Dudley’s hot water bottle was made of some kind of rubber, or plastic, and had a cover made of fuzzy fabric, which Aunt Petunia usually wrapped in yet another towel so ‘poor little Dudders’ didn’t get burnt.

It really did feel nice. Harry took the towel and wrapped himself in it, struggling out of the still slightly damp jeans.

Perfect. Running away could wait until he had recovered.

“Sorry I didn’t feed you”, he said to Hedwig. She hooted softly in reply, then coughed up a ball of fur, which fortunately didn’t land on the bed or the rug, but on the floorboards.

Looked like she wanted to tell him she could very well feed herself. Was that mouse fur?

Harry was startled from his ponderings when a familiar, faint light appeared. The doe!

He briefly wondered where she might lead him this time, when she jumped onto the bed and folded her slender legs below her.

“You’ll stay?” Then he would stay, too.

It would have been hard to motivate himself to leave the bed, let alone the room, especially now that he heard rain beat against the diamond-paned window.

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