Harry had decided this must be some sort of strange dream. Snape had no reason to be in a muggle library. And if he had been there, he would have made sure Harry got thrown out.
He would surely not take Harry away from the library floor, which despite the nice carpet was still rather hard, and place him on a soft couch in his living room. And he wouldn’t make tea specially for Harry. Tea that actually tasted pleasant.
Or listen to Harry’s pleas about not taking him back to the Dursleys. Carry Harry to the bathroom. The fact that Snape had draped his own cloak over Harry and had then proceeded to leave the house without said cloak only further proved that none of this could be real.
It was a nice dream, though, so Harry was in no hurry to wake up.
Perhaps he ought to wake up sometime soon, so he didn’t starve. But he would probably wake up once he got too hungry, anyway.
Or too thirsty. Thirst was more of a problem. He could go without food for a while, but water ... he did feel thirsty. His cup was empty. The tea wasn’t real, but even so, it did taste nice.
“There’s more tea”, Dream-Snape said. He was back. Of course he was back, it was a pleasant dream after all,so nothing bad could have happened to him.
Harry heard him pour some into the cup.
“Here.” The cup was held to Harry’s lips. He drank greedily. There was sugar in the tea. Somehow, it wasn’t so great for his thirst that way. But this was a dream, he could have anything he wanted, couldn’t he?
As soon as Dream-Snape lowered the cup, Harry asked, cautiously, as Dream-Snape could be nasty, sometimes: “May I have a glass of water, sir? I just ... the tea is ... not liquid enough.” That was completely nonsensical.
“Water. Very well.” The voice sounded like Snape’s, but real Snape would have told him he was talking nonsense. “Would you prefer the tea without sugar?”
Harry smiled. Snape asking how he preferred his tea. He liked this weird dream. “No, it tastes nice. I just need something to drink.”
Shortly after, a glass of nice, cool water was held to his lips, and Harry drank all of it in a few, large gulps.
“More?”
“Yes, please.”
Dream-Snape refilled the glass with a wave of his wand, then held it to Harry’s lips again.
This time, Harry stopped drinking when the glass was still half-full, but Dream-Snape didn’t complain. He put the glass on the table and stood. “Are you hungry?”
“Not very”, Harry replied after thinking about the matter. He should have been hungry, he had gone without food for at least half a day, but somehow, he didn’t feel much like eating anything.
“Some porridge, then, I think.”
Dream-Snape left, and Harry dozed off, only to be woken by a hand on his shoulder. “Here. Try to eat some.”
A bowl of porridge was held in front of him.
Harry sat up, half leaning against the backrest of the couch. “Thank you.” He felt exhausted from the effort of sitting, already, but started eating.
He needed a break rather early. Leaning his head against the backrest, he mumbled: “Sorry. I just ... I feel so weak.” Real Snape would have ... well, probably murdered him for being so ungrateful, but Dream-Snape could be reasoned with.
“You suffer from Yeti influenza. Your weakened state is to be expected”, Dream-Snape said reasonably. “Take as many breaks as you need.”
Despite his best efforts, Harry found himself dozing off at some point, waking only to the sound of breaking porcelain.
“Potter! What have you DONE?” Snape thundered.
Oh. Was this real after all? But it couldn’t be, could it? He was still on a couch and still warm and comfortable, even though now he shuddered with fear.
Snape strode into the living room, carrying another bowl of porridge. “Oh.” He put the bowl down on the couch table and drew his wand.
The porridge on the floor vanished, and with another muttered spell, Snape repaired the bowl Harry had dropped.
“I’m sorry”, Harry whispered, not sure what to hope. He wanted this to be real, because then he wouldn’t have to wake up and leave the library and go find something to eat, but he also didn’t want to be yelled at, and real Snape would yell at him. “I fell asleep.”
“It’s alright”, Snape said, though his teeth were clenched and his voice strained as if he really wanted to keep yelling. “When have you eaten last?”
“Yesterday”, Harry recalled. Yes, he hadn’t bothered finding breakfast.
Snape sat down. Must be Dream-Snape, Harry decided, real Snape wouldn’t have made an effort to not yell at him. “And what did you eat? How much?”
“Not sure. Just ... some stuff people left on their plates, I mean, I don’t have muggle money, so ...” Should he tell Snape all this? Just in case this was real ... but it couldn’t be, so he was essentially just talking to himself.
“So your last real meal was at Hogwarts.”
“I guess.” Harry closed his eyes.
Dream-Snape muttered something about a potion and suddenly he wasn’t there anymore, the bowl of porridge that he must have intended to eat himself untouched on the table.
Harry wanted to go back to sleep, but he felt nauseous. Even the tiny bit of porridge he had eaten must have been too much.
He felt around on the floor searching for the bowl Snape had repaired, and found it just in time to throw up into it.
At least he wouldn’t dirty the floor, he thought, tasting the bile on his tongue. It was a long time before his stomach stopped cramping, though there wasn’t all that much to throw up.
Harry wiped his mouth with the sleeve of Dudley’s old jumper. He felt a bit better, the nausea was gone, and perhaps Dream-Snape wouldn’t even yell at him.
Very pleased with himself, he fell asleep.
When he woke, Dream-Snape stood next to the bed. “Drink this. Your body will hopefully absorb the nutrients before you throw up again.”
It must be a potion, but for some reason it tasted somewhat like vegetable soup with a bit of sugar.
Dream-Snape went away, and returned with a wet dishcloth. “Don’t move. I’ll clean your face.”
So he had missed something. Figured.
But this was a weird dream, and Dream-Snape didn’t seem to mind. He wiped Harry’s face with the wet cloth, which felt wonderfully cool.
Then, he touched Harry’s forehead and cursed under his breath.
“I’m sorry!” Harry said automatically.
“For what? I’d be very impressed if you were able to consciously control your body temperature.” Dream-Snape went to the bookcase that completely covered one of the walls and went through the books, finally taking one out and flipping it open.
There was more cursing, or at least Harry assumed so from the tone – he couldn’t make out single words.
He saw Dream-Snape touch another book and part of the wall rotated to reveal a secret passage.
Harry smiled. Now he was sure he was dreaming!
A moment later, Dream-Snape emerged. He had a kind of metal rod in his hand.
“I don’t have a medical thermometer, but this should do. Open your mouth.”
Oh! He wanted to take Harry’s temperature.
This really must be a dream, Harry thought. He knew there were different kinds of thermometer, and Aunt Petunia had used the very unpleasant kind when she’d thought it necessary to do anything about Harry being sick at all.
Dream-Snape gently put the metal rod in Harry’s mouth. Now he could see there was something like a clock face on the other end.
“Good thing I invested in the better kind of thermometer, or I’d only know that your body is the temperature at which Pepperup Potion should simmer.” Dream-Snape took the thermometer from Harry’s mouth.
Harry smiled weakly. Had that been a joke? Well, it was a dream, after all. “Is that bad?”
“Yes. A bit more heat and the proteins in your body will be denaturised. So I will ...” Dream-Snape sighed. “Do you want me to call Madam Pomfrey?”
That bad? “What’s the alternative?”
“Wrapping wet cloth around your legs would allegedly lower your temperature.”
Harry faintly remembered Aunt Petunia doing that for Dudley once. Harry had had to fetch the wet cloths. His fever couldn’t be very dangerous, then, after all, Aunt Petunia would have called an ambulance if Dudley was in real danger. “We can try that.”
Dream-Snape left and returned with a saucepan full of water and some dishcloths.
He used the potion thermometer to determine the temperature of the water in the saucepan, then wet the cloths with it.
“I should take off my trousers”, Harry pointed out. Which was easier said than done because he had used binder twine instead of a belt (Dudley’s belts never fit him) to keep up two pairs of Dudley’s old trousers, and he must have re-tied the knots a little too well after using the toilet.
“You are wearing ...” Dream-Snape sighed. “Of course you are wearing trousers.”
He pushed the cloaks Harry was using as blankets aside, yanked the robe up, then looked at the trousers. “I’ll just cut that”, he announced. “Me doing magic close to you won’t make you feel worse, will it?”
“I don’t think so?”
Dream-Snape drew his wand and moved it carefully. Harry felt the pressure around his waist vanish.
“Where on earth did you get those trousers?”, Dream-Snape asked as he pulled them off Harry without any effort. “Castoffs from your uncle?”
“My cousin.”
Dream-Snape mumbled something Harry couldn’t understand but chose to interpret as comment on Dudley’s obesity.
“You slept outside.” It wasn’t a question. Harry could see the mud clinging to the hem of the trousers.
And his shoes ... oh no, his shoes!
Dream Snape removed his shoes without commenting on their state, though, and didn’t complain about his couch.
Harry very much hoped that he had succeeded in getting the mud off his shoes before entering the library. He had tried very hard, muddy footprints would have betrayed him, after all.
“Are you wearing any more superfluous clothes?”
“They aren’t superfluous”, Harry mumbled.
“Yes they are. You should wear only a nightgown. I bet you have red marks from sleeping on the buttons of your trousers. Now get out of your robes, tell me if you need help.”
Harry wriggled under the cloak-blankets and managed to pull his robe up so far that the hem was on one level with the hem of his Weasley jumper, but had to take a break after that.
“Good. Lift your arms.” Dream-Snape pulled the garment over his head, taking one of Dudley’s jumpers with it. Getting the Weasley jumper off was a bit more complicated, seeing as it actually fit Harry.
“As soon as I feel up to it, you will take a bath”, Dream-Snape decided when Harry was only in a shirt and pants. His voice sounded weary, not angry. Further proof Harry was still dreaming.
So Harry didn’t mind that Dream-Snape touched his bare legs to wrap the wet cloths around them and then cover those with a towel.
He’d have hated for real Snape to touch him at all, but this wasn’t Snape, it was just ... like some nicer person disguised as Snape with Polyjuice Potion. Polyjuice ... Ron had accused Harry of wanting to use it in his alleged sinister plans, so Hermione had declared that she’d flush the potion down the toilet. However, she had never talked about it again, so perhaps she had kept it somewhere ...
“I will be in my laboratory for a while”, Dream Snape announced. “Try to drink some more tea. Send your owl if you get cold.” He re-filled the cup before he left.
Harry felt too weak to take more than one sip of tea, but he didn’t worry about that much. Obviously, he wasn’t in a nightmare. If he died of dehydration then because he slept too long, not because he didn’t drink in his dream.
It was rather weird, being able to sleep and wake up while staying in the same dream, but Harry remembered some nightmares where he had dreamt about waking up in his cupboard, only for Ron to wake him in his bed in Gryffindor tower.
He dozed off and only woke when Dream-Snape returned and felt his forehead. Judging from how pleasantly cool the touch felt, Harry thought he must still have rather high fever. He also wasn’t cold, which was strange, as he had taken off all those clothes.
“I will give you a transdermal nutrition potion”, Dream-Snape explained. He took one of the unlabeled glass containers on the couch table and poured the contents on a small piece of cloth, which he then carefully placed on Harry’s forehead. “Try not to move too much.”
“Yes sir. Thanks.”
“So, let’s see how your temperature is.”
Dream-Snape seemed satisfied with Harry’s temperature now. “I brewed some fever reducing potion that will keep your temperature below the dangerous point during the night”, he said, indicating the other bottles on the table. “Is there anything else you need?”
“I’m well”, Harry said. “Thanks.” In fact, he started to feel a bit bad for Dream-Snape. The man looked almost exactly like real Snape, but he lacked the permanent scowl.
And he was acting so frantic, like, like ... well, a tad bit like Aunt Petunia when Dudley was sick.
Harry smiled. He liked the thought. Someone caring for him while he was sick ... obviously, with how poorly he had felt before falling asleep, his mind had created this dream to soothe his discomfort.
Just like sometimes, when the Dursleys had been especially horrible, Harry had dreamt of a beautiful woman with red hair singing him a lullaby.
It was just weird that it was Snape. Perhaps because the only person he had ever seen care for a sick person was Aunt Petunia, and she was nasty, so his mind couldn’t imagine anyone nice doing this, so it had to be Snape?
Wait, there was also Madam Pomfrey ... but with Madam Pomfrey he’d be in Hogwarts and the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey would be calm and professional, and ...
Perhaps a small part of Harry wanted to have what Dudley had, an adult who worried about him even though there was no real reason to be worried.
Still, why Snape? The man had never worried about Harry. He might have helped Harry when Quirrell tried to kill him, but that was because he owed Harry’s father.
Dream-Snape sat down in the armchair with a sigh, and began to eat the porridge that must already be cold.
The man had looked very tired. Did real Snape also look this tired? Harry had never dared look at him much, so he wasn’t sure.
After finishing his porridge, Dream-Snape went away and returned with something made of green flannel. “Try to sit up.”
Harry sat up, and let Dream-Snape help him into what must be a nightgown. The fabric was soft and warm and it was only a tiny bit too large for Harry.
It was, he had to admit, much more comfortable than what he had worn before.
The rest of the day passed with some sleep, some more tea, another glass of water,and finally, Dream-Snape said: “I intend to get eight hours of sleep. Do you need to go to the toilet before I go to bed?”
“Yes, please.” Not that it could matter, in a dream, but it was better to play along, he didn’t want to wake up early.
As before, Dream-Snape carried him to the bathroom, and without so many trousers to take care of, Harry managed to finish and leave the room before his legs gave way under him.
“You will take one dose of fever reducing potion”, Dream Snape announced when he set Harry back down on the couch. “You can continue to use your cloak and mine as blankets, but there are more in case you get cold.”
Dream-Snape took two folded blankets, one green, one grey, out of a very muggle looking plastic bag and placed them on the backrest of the couch. “Send your owl if there is any problem whatsoever.”
“Yes, sir.” Harry obediently swallowed the fever reducing potion. “Good night”, he mumbled.
When he woke, he was cold. He felt more disappointed than he felt he had a right to. The dream had gone on longer than expected, it was time to wake up and get out of the library. Or at least go to the men’s toilets and drink some water out of the tap ...
Slowly, he opened his eyes. At first, he couldn’t see anything, but found his glasses nearby and put them on. Books, books and even more books ...
Hedwig hooted softly.
What was she doing inside the ... oh. Harry was still on a couch, and the reason he felt cold must be because of the illness. The wooden surface on which he had found his glasses was the couch table.
Dim light filtered in through the dusty, water-stained windows.
The smell of toast emerged from the kitchen, soon followed by Snape, carrying a plate with toast and a cup from which the smell of coffee emerged.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, sir.” Harry smiled. Still dreaming, definitely. Dream-Snape sounded weary and a bit grumpy, but not at all sarcastic. So perhaps ... “Could I have another blanket, please?”
Dream-Snape stood and unfolded one of the blankets Harry now remembered he had left on the backrest of the couch.
Harry could have taken one himself, but Dream-Snape didn’t seem to feel a need to point that out.
“Do you feel like eating, or do I need to give you another transdermal potion?”
“I could drink the potion, I think. If that’s easier.” Even if it was just a dream, he felt a bit bad for Dream-Snape. Even someone who wasn’t real deserved to get to relax in the holidays.
“It is not. Transdermal nutrition potion tastes horrible, I am afraid, so you can use up the rest of this batch before I brew the other variety. You should drink some tea after your Pepperup Potion.”
So Harry drank some more sweet tea, then laid down with a cloth soaked in nutrition potion on his forehead. Cold seemed to spread from inside him, even though he was sure his body must be pretty warm.
“Are you still cold?” Dream-Snape asked after finishing his coffee.
“Um. A bit?”
After taking his temperature again, Dream-Snape decided that Harry needed a hot water bottle, and soon returned with something very unlike the hot water bottles Harry knew from the Dursley household.
It seemed to be made of metal, and looked like it had been in use for several generations. Dream-Snape wrapped a towel around it and pushed it under Harry’s blanket.
Warm feet, at last. “Thanks”, Harry mumbled.
Chapter 4