Severus put the sleeping boy back on the couch, unsure of whether he ought to feel bad. He had manipulated Potter. Just a bit. The boy would adress him properly from now on, believing as he did that Severus didn’t know his true identity.
But he hadn’t really threatened the boy, had he? He had made it quite clear that he had known who he was when he had taken him home.
And anyway, it was much better for both of them if Potter didn’t get on his nerves, wasn’t it?
‘You made me a hot water bottle’ the boy had said, as if that was proof he couldn’t possibly be the Hogwarts Potions Master.
Severus had carefully constructed his image as intimidating teacher who might just be serious if he threatened to poison someone, but he had never given the impression that he would deny a sick child the barest necessities ... fine, perhaps being warm wasn’t a necessity, but he wasn’t a healer, better be safe than sorry, right?
It was not like he had fed the child chocolate cookies or anything. There was no reason to be so surprised.
What had Petunia done? Well, certainly not taken good care of the boy when he had been sick the last time.
Had the woman no heart at all?
Surely, any normal human being would feel some compassion towards a sick person? He recalled that his mother had always increased her efforts to be a good parent when he had been taken sick, and his father had had the decency to leave her to it.
Hell, Severus himself had felt a bit concerned about Potter and Weasley after they had crashed that car into the Whomping Willow, even though their injuries were clearly only superficial.
Most Death Eaters had trained themselves out of feeling compassion for muggles and muggleborns, but Petunia Evans was no Death Eater, she ought to ...
But complaining was pointless. Quite obviously, Petunia did not care what she ought to do.
Severus continued decorating the room. It would never look like Hogwarts, but it would have to do.
Finally, content with his work, he checked the boy’s temperature again – it was high, but not too high – and went to brew a drinkable nutrition potion. Madam Pomfrey had recommended to just feed the child some chicken or vegetable broth, but she had to assume the child in question was some spoiled pureblood heir, seeing as someone had contacted Severus. Only the very rich could pay his rates for private potion brewing. Rates he set intentionally high as to not be disturbed during the holidays.
Potter was thin as a rail under all those baggy clothes, and while that might be genetic – Lily had always retained her slender figure, no matter how many chocolate frogs she ate, and James Potter had been light enough to be a seeker despite being spoilt and overfed – Severus didn’t want to take the chance.
If only the ingredients weren’t so expensive, he could just make himself a potion, too, and not have to cook ... but no.
Even with a decent salary, Severus wasn’t one to waste money. And he needed to maintain the pretense that he was a responsible adult who ate three healthy meals a day.
So he sat down to a healthy meal with roasted potatoes, brussel’s sprouts and a steak while the boy on his couch drank a nutrition potion.
“I’m sorry I’m so much trouble”, the child said quietly.
Severus stared at him. “I assure you, you have never been less trouble than you are right now.” Well, at least if he only counted the times he had been in the same room with the boy.
“You had to brew the fever reducing potion specially for me”, the boy said softly.
“That’s much less work than having to make sure you don’t throw firecrackers into someone else’s potion”, Severus replied.
He clearly saw the guilt on the boy’s face.
Better not to inquire, though. Potter would only deny it and that would make Severus angry, and now was not the time to get angry.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Hm.”
Severus much preferred sick Potter over healthy Potter. Sure, sick Potter needed help for the simplest things, but at least Severus could be sure he’d stay on the couch and not do something stupid.
Apart from having to cook and brew potions, the boy didn’t really even disturb his routine that much. Severus had intended to spend the Christmas holidays reading all the books and magazines he usually didn’t have time to read, and a sleeping child made rather good company for that.
******
On Christmas morning, Harry awoke to the blurry sight of candles. After he had put on his glasses, he saw that there was a Christmas tree. It was a tiny tree, decorated only with straw stars and candles, but it was undeniably a tree.
And underneath was a pile of presents.
“Are those my presents?”, he asked quietly, and Hedwig hooted happily.
“They are all yours”, Dream-Snape affirmed as he stepped into the room. As every day, he had a breakfast tray for himself, and some potions for Harry. “Which do you want to open first?”
Harry grinned. “Merry Christmas, sir. Don’t you get any presents?”
“No meaningful ones.” Dream-Snape put the tray on the table. “The esteemed Professor McGonagall will, no doubt, have sent me another bottle of whisky.”
“Don’t you like whisky?” Harry saw nothing wrong with getting the same present every year. As long as it was something you liked.
“I do not dislike it, but it is hardly something to get excited over, seeing as I already know what it will be.” Dream-Snape took the largest parcel from the pile and handed it to Harry. “I wonder what this is.”
“Oh, I think I know”, Harry began unwrapping it. “Mrs. Weasley sent me a jumper last Christmas, and this sort of looks like ... yes!”
Dream-Snape gave him a sceptical look that made him look like real Snape for a moment. “Another jumper?”
“That’s very kind of her, I mean, I would have thought she’d not send me another one, now that I alreaday have one ... and there’s food, too!”
“You better don’t try eating that right now. Would be a waste”, Dream-Snape commented drily.
“Oh. Yeah.” Harry set the parcel aside.
“That reminds me. Your nutrition potion.”
The nutrition potion for drinking tasted strange, but not unpleasant. A bit like vegetable soup with sugar. Harry emptied the small bottle in one go. “Thank you.”
Dream-Snape handed him one expertly wrapped in green paper with a silver ribbon. “Try this one next. I know for sure it doesn’t contain any food items.”
Harry unwrapped it, and found a beautiful black raven feather quill. But there was no card or letter attached. “Is that ...” He eyed Dream-Snape uncertainly.
“It’s from me. Self-inking and invisible to muggles. In the hopes that your summer homework will be better quality from now on.”
“Thank you, sir.” Harry smiled. This had to be a dream. Snape would never give him a present.
“It is by no means altruistic, I assure you.” Snape picked up a present that was so clumsily wrapped Harry guessed at once it was from Hagrid.
It contained sweets, and Harry set it aside. Not being able to eat something on Christmas was really rather annoying, he decided. But of course, things could be much worse.
“And finally, those two.” Snape gave him two presents, one wrapped neatly in normal wrapping paper and one wrapped in old newspaper.
Harry opened the nicer one first and was delighted to find that Hermione had sent him a beautiful eagle feather quill.
“How ... unfortunate”, Snape commented.
“What? That Hermione had the same idea? You know what they say, great minds think alike.” Harry chuckled. The fever must really be high for him to get so silly to compare Hermione to Snape. “Can’t have too many quills, anyway.”
“Hm. Now, I admit I am curious as to the contents of that tiny one.”
Harry unwrapped it. It was a single toothpick. “Oh, that’s from the Dursleys.”
“Is that ...” Snape frowned. “Is that a perfectly ordinary toothpick?”
“Yeah, looks like it. Last Christmas, they sent me a fifty pence piece, I guess they feel less generous this year.”
Snape wouldn’t stop staring, so Harry added: “They probably only send me something because Hedwig won’t let them alone until they give me something. Is that right, Hedwig?”
She hooted, and it sounded clearly not amused.
“And there was ... nothing else?”, Harry asked cautiously? “I’m sorry, sir, it is just, I thought ...”
Snape raised an eyebrow. “Not enough presents?”
“Exactly as many as I hoped for”, Harry mumbled. “Just I thought ... I hoped Ron would have forgiven me. Mrs. Weasley has.”
“Mrs. Weasley has not forgiven you, she no doubt never believed this nonsense about you setting a snake to attack her son in the first place.”
Now that still surprised Harry, even though he knew this Snape was different from the one he knew. “You don’t think I did it, sir?” Regular Snape hadn’t punished Harry, but Harry had assumed it was due to there being no proof of what he had said.
“Why would you? The Weasley boy is your best friend, is he not?”
“Yeah. Well, he was. I’d never do something like that to him, but I know it must have looked like it. Why do you believe me?” Snape of all people. This was a different Snape, but he had also said Harry was different, but how could he know, then, that Harry wouldn’t hurt Ron?
“Logic”, Snape replied calmly. “Animals are not automatons, and the snake must have been very ... upset at what happened. That it bit your friend despite whatever you told it simply requires less explanation than the assumption that you had a secret reason to harm Weasley and were also foolish enough to expose yourself as parselmouth when the snake would likely have bitten him without your intervention.”
“Oh. Yeah. That’s very logical. Hermione believes me, she’s a logical thinker too, but Ron won’t agree.” Why did Snape hate Hermione, actually? They had so much in common. Well, as much as someone of Hermione’s age could have in common with someone who was thrice her age or so.
Logically – ha! – they should get along.
“He never did strike me as the most logically thinking boy. And one must, of course, take into consideration that he spent some hours in the hospital wing after that incident. Likely, he needs an outlet for his frustration over this.”
“That’s not fair. I mean, it was just a few hours. I had to spend a night in the hospital wing because of Dobby, and I’m not so unforgiving!”, Harry blurted out.
“Dobby?” Snape sounded merely curious.
“A house elf”, Harry explained. “Or so he says. He’s obsessed with keeping me away from Hogwarts, says something bad will happen ... oh.” Something bad was happening at Hogwarts.
“Did he say the bad things were caused by your presence?”
“No ...” Harry closed his eyes. Talking got a bit strenous. “He wanted to keep me away to keep me safe. He doesn’t like Voldemort.”
“Did he say whom he belongs to?”
“No, he isn’t allowed to, I think. They don’t want him to help me ...”
He heard Snape get up. “We have talked for too long. Go to sleep, we will talk later.”
Harry felt someone taking off his glasses, then he drifted into a feverish sleep.
When he woke, someone was dabbing his sweaty forehead with a wet cloth.
Snape. Or at least the man who looked like Snape. If this wasn’t a dream, then he couldn’t be Dream-Snape, but perhaps ... Not-Snape?
On the other hand, he seemed to know everything regular Snape knew.
He looked just like regular Snape, too. Hooked nose, oily hair, dark eyes ... they weren’t really black, Harry realized, more like a very dark brown. Just the expression on his face didn’t match. It was almost ... concern?
“Tea or water?”
Harry blinked.
“You need to drink something, seeing as you only took your potion this morning. So what will it be?”
Harry felt pleasantly warm at the moment. “Water, please.”
Snape fetched the water and helped him drink. “We were talking about a house elf. Do you remember?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What did he wear? Were there any hints as to the family he belongs to in his clothes? Perhaps a coat of arms?”
“No, he was wearing a dirty rag of some sort ... told me he isn’t allowed real clothes ...the only thing I know about whom he belongs to is that they can’t be decent people. He says they wouldn’t notice him ironing his hands and such stuff. That he has to do that all the time to punish himself for not doing everything the way they want him to.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down by much, but I will investigate.” Snape cleared his throat. “I would like to lower your temperature again. It would spare me some brewing if you would consent to the more mundane method ...”
Harry stared at him, confused. “Oh. You mean the wet cloths? Sure.”
Snape’s Christmas meal was chicken broth, which he claimed was what he would have eaten anyway, but Harry suspected he was lying – who ate chicken broth for Christmas, really?
On the other hand, Snape making chicken broth for Christmas so that Harry could have some of it, and then lying about his plans, was also very unlikely. He was Snape, after all, or was he?
When Harry went to sleep in the evening, having been dosed with another phial of fever reducing potion, he decided that this was his second best Christmas ever.
The one where Ron had still been his friend rated higher, but all in all, he really couldn’t complain.
Days passed by. Harry felt more holiday cheer than he ever had outside of Hogwarts. Being sick and with Snape was better than being healthy and with the Dursleys.
It wasn’t just the absence of chores. With his aching joints and the weakness, Harry didn’t feel much better, physically, than he would if he were working.
Perhaps it was the blessed silence. No Aunt Marge blathering on and on about Harry’s many faults. No Dudley throwing his tantrums, no Uncle Vernon threatening him, no nagging Aunt Petunia ...
Snape mostly just sat there, reading quietly, and when he occasionally muttered his criticisms of something written in his Potions journal, it was a welcome change.
The creative insults Snape invented were rather entertaining, Harry reflected, when they weren’t aimed at oneself. Or some other undeserving victim.
People who submitted articles to The Practical Potioneer and still didn’t meet Snape’s standards probably deserved the criticism.
It was on the twenty-seventh of December that Snape returned from the bathroom with a frown on his face. “Headmaster Dumbledore has finally noticed you are missing. Took him long enough.”
Harry didn’t ask how Snape knew. Perhaps he had gotten an owl. Magic. “How does he know?” And if he had found out by magic, then how hadn’t he known before?
“One of his spies noticed that a neighbour boy was tasked with clearing the snow in front of the Dursley house. If there hadn’t been snow, chances are no one would have noticed your absence at all.”
Snape sounded angry, as if not keeping track of Harry was about as stupid as adding the porcupine quills without taking the cauldron off the fire.
“Oh.” Well, it had been nice while it lasted. “So I have to go back to the Dursleys?”
Snape regarded him with a calculating gaze. “Not necessarily. I might be able to overplay your illness in order to convince Professor Dumbledore that it would be for the best if you spent the remainder of the holidays here. However ... I require your ... collaboration.”
“What do you need me to do? We could skip the fever reducer, I guess?”
“No, that will not be needed. I merely require that you ... ah, forget that you were here for Christmas. It would be most convenient for me to find you in, say, a hour’s time.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“You will have received your friends’ presents someplace in London and have put them in your trunk. You will then have sought refuge in the library, where I will find you in an hour. Another cycle in the washing machine will do your clothes good, and as for your shoes ... they can go in the washing machine, too.”
Wow. Harry had known Snape was a sneaky bastard, but he was really good at this. It was a good thing he was (probably) on Harry’s side.
“What about your present?”
“If anyone asks, you bought it in Knockturn Alley”, Snape replied immediately. “Off a street vendor who didn’t show his face.”
“Okay.”
Snape gave him a strange look. “You should have been warned about adults who ask you to collaborate in the keeping of secrets. Much as it suits me that you don’t even ask why it needs to be a secret ...” He cleared his throat. “Well, this is not a life or death secret, not when it comes to Professor Dumbledore. You may tell him the truth if the need arises. Only him, though, no one else. Definitely not your friends. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t think Hermione would believe me, anyway. So, we just pretend like you just found me?”
“Essentially. I will do the talking, you will sleep. If asked, you will say that you went to the library when you started to feel sick, and that you don’t know which day it is.” Snape frowned. “Oh, and you can mention your suspicion that you are dreaming. Yes. Say anything strange that comes to your mind. You are, after all, hallucinating with fever.”
“Yes, sir. Will do.”
“Good. Now, let me see about this ...”
Harry drifted into sleep after a while. When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t wearing his glasses anymore.
Even without glasses, however, he could see that there was no Christmas tree or decorations anymore. His presents had vanished, too.
A hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready? I will inform Dumbledore, now.”
Oh. Of course. Snape. The plan. It must be all a dream, Snape wouldn’t conspire with him ... but it was a nice dream, he’d play along. “Sure. I mean. I am. Ready. Sir.”
A cool hand on his forehead. “I will have to take the risk. For a short moment.”
Snape turned. No robes billowed. Was he wearing muggle clothes?
He incanted a spell Harry didn’t know.
“Found Potter. He’s sick. Come immediately.”
A flash of silver disappeared through the wall.
Shortly after, the flames in the fireplace flared green.
“Severus. I knew I could rely on you.”
“Headmaster.”
Harry had his eyes closed, but could imagine that Snape inclined his head just so, as he sometimes did when Dumbledore talked to him.
“How is Harry?”
“Unharmed. The fever does not stem from an injury. At least I ...” Snape cleared his throat. “I removed the boy’s robes, trousers and jumpers. There is no reason to suspect injuries on his torso. Apparently, Potter wanted to play at being homeless and found it a bit too challenging.”
There were steps in Harry’s direction. An unfamiliar hand on his forehead.
“He is burning up. Where did you find him?”
“In a public muggle library I frequent.”
The hand withdrew. “Why would you be looking for Harry in a library?”
“Well.” Snape cleared his throat. “When muggle detectives want to find someone, they sometimes start out in the place where that person went missing and try to imagine where that person could have gone. That branch of the library isn’t far from a park where Potter might have hidden his owl.”
“There is something you are not telling me, Severus.”
“Oh, fine. I literally just stumbled across the boy. He was wearing an invisibility cloak, I would never have found him if I hadn’t decided I deserve something to read over the holidays.”
“Ah, fate. Did you manage to wake him?”
“He slept through my manhandling him, even through apparating. As you can see I gave him Pepperup Potion, but it doesn’t seem to have much of an effect.”
“It does not seem to have any effect at all”, Dumbledore said softly. “His illness is of a magical nature.”
“Apparently.We are fortunate that he lives with a family of muggles who cannot catch it.”
What? Snape had said he would make sure Harry got to stay!
“I expect Petunia cannot wait to have her little darling returned to her so she can pamper him some more?”, Snape sneered.
“Severus”, Dumbledore said quietly. There was something sharp in his tone. “Pampered children do not sleep on the streets. Do you really think Harry ran away for fun? During this time of the year?”
Finally, someone said it!
“What else could it be? He cannot have had a fight with his family, seeing as he didn’t see fit to even inform them he was coming home for the holidays”, Snape said in a scathing tone Harry hadn’t even thought Dream-Snape capable of.
He must be real, then. Perhaps Harry had dreamt everything else, the Christmas present and so on?
“Do you not remember that Harry stayed at Hogwarts last year?”
“Your point being?”
“Harry is not the spoiled child you think he is.”
“Be that as it may, it has no bearing on the problem at hand. Potter has a fever. Let me see ...”
Snape muttered an incantation, and Harry felt a wave of nausea. His body convulsed, but he didn’t throw up, as there was nothing in his stomach. The last cup of tea had been a couple of hours ago.
“Damn”, Snape muttered. “Adverse reaction to magic. I thought it was just the apparition ... You ought to take him back to his relatives on the Knight Bus.”
“I ought to?” Dumbledore asked, and all the softness was gone from his tone. “You forget who you are talking to, Severus.”
“It is not like there is any other alternative”, Snape retorted. “I was merely stating the obvious. Potter needs constant care, his fever needs lowering by muggle means, and unless you happen to own, say, an illegaly enchanted Ford Anglia, the Knight Bus is the best way of transporting a patient who displays adverse reactions to magic. I already apparated him once, there is no telling how much additional damage another apparition might do when he’s clearly sensitive to magic.”
Dumbledore’s hand on his forehead again. “Constant care, indeed. Severus, I cannot trust Petunia Dursley with such a task. And I cannot trust St. Mungo’s with his protection.”
“You are not saying ... you cannot mean to imply ...” Snape’s voice trailed off.
The hand withdrew. “I am afraid I do mean exactly that.”
“The Malfoys invited me to celebrate the New Year with them. I need to be there – I have no plausible reason not to, and Lucius may well know something about the Heir.” The sound of footsteps.
“I will stay with Harry for the night, should the need arise.” Dumbledore’s voice sounded further away now.
“If anyone finds out about this – what of my reputation? Potter might be almost in a coma right now, but he will wake up.”
“And you will tell him what I asked you to do. Now, if you will excuse me – I need to inform Arabella that Harry has been found, she is beside herself with worry.”
After that, Harry heard nothing.
“You can open your eyes again.”
Harry did so and reached for his glasses. “You said you would get him to let me stay.”
“And so I did.”
“But ...”
Snape glared at him. “Stop thinking about what I said, start thinking about what I achieved.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.” He was very confused now. But the only thing that really mattered was whether he could still get Snape to be nice to him. “Um. I think I need the toilet, sir.”
Snape pushed the blankets, including his own cloak, to the side and hefted Harry over his shoulder. “You are well, otherwise? I researched the disease, magic should only cause nausea, with no lasting damage done.”
“I’m okay, thank you.” He could complain about the way Snape carried him, as if he was a piece of luggage, but if he did, Snape would probably stop carrying him altogether.
He would certainly not start carrying Harry in his arms.
Not that Harry wanted that! Just ...
His thoughts were interrupted when Snape lowered him to the floor. “Call for me if you need help.”
“Thank you.”
Severus put the boy back to bed, wrapped wet cloths around his legs, and went to brew some more fever reducing potion.
He was very pleased with how the conversation with Dumbledore had turned out. It was petty revenge and didn’t really achieve anything, but Severus liked to manipulate the man once in a while, just to prove to himself that he could.
Of course, he might be fooling himself. Dumbledore might have planned to saddle Severus with Potter even before he arrived at Spinner’s End.
Not that it mattered. This time, for once, Severus had made the decision. He had decided to give in to the boy’s pleading and let him stay.
It felt good. Making his own decisions. He felt more alive than he had for years.
When the fresh batch of potion was ready, Severus changed the password on the floo and put the Christmas decorations back up. Perhaps he should have let them on ... but Dumbledore would have noticed, and might have suspected something.
Not that the man had much experience with how Severus liked to decorate, or not, seeing as he had always spent Christmas at Hogwarts ... but somehow, Severus was a bit paranoid about it.
He himself, after all, knew full well he would never have gone to the trouble of decorating if he didn’t have Potter here ... and Potter suffering from an illness brought about by melancholy, at that.
Now that he had all those decorations, though, he wouldn’t let them go to waste.
It was ... nice, having them here. Really did make the room more cheerful.
On the thirtieth of December, the boy managed to keep down some watery porridge without throwing up.
The fever, however, was still there, and while he might have managed to walk to the bathroom on his own, Severus wasn’t too keen on experimenting.
So, once again, he banished the Christmas decorations and sent a patronus message to Dumbledore.
Not long after, the old man stepped out of his fireplace. “Severus, my boy, how are you?”
“Well enough, Headmaster. And please do not adress me in that manner in front of Potter. He was delirious enough to think he was dreaming a couple of days ago, but now, he might actually be awake.”
“That is good news, Severus. Very good.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled merrily, which immediately roused Severus’ suspicion. “I have given some thought to your request, and I think I will watch over Harry myself.”
Severus nodded. “Good.” He almost would have thanked the man, but that would have implied that Dumbledore hadn’t saddled him with Potter in the first place, and thus exposed his lie.
Harry knew it was safer to pretend to be asleep, but there were some things he wanted to ask Dumbledore.
“Professor Dumbledore?”, he asked quietly, some time after the man had sat down in the armchair where Snape used to sit. “Is this all a dream?”
“An excellent question, Harry. Is all life a dream?”
“Um. I meant, more, like ... me being here. Sna- Professor Snape being ... nice to me. Sort of. Am I actually ... asleep somewhere else?”
Dumbledore looked at him earnestly. “Does it really seem so unbelievable to you, Harry, that Professor Snape might be kind? He has, after all, saved your life once before.”
“Yeah, but that was to pay my father back. Now they’re even.”
“Ah.” Dumbledore nodded. “Do you remember how you ended up here, Harry?”
Harry closed his eyes. “No”, he answered truthfully. “I didn’t even mean to sleep, I just wanted to lie down for a bit. Then I woke up here.”
“Professor Snape found you and brought you here before summoning me. It turned out that it would be rather damaging to your health to move you more, so I asked him to host you until you are better.”
“But ... he ... he hasn’t even insulted me, I think.It’s not normal.”
“Professor Snape normally insults you?” Dumbledore sounded worried. Damn.Would Snape get in trouble, now?
And why did Harry feel like that was a bad thing?
“Kinda. Thought you knew. Goes on about me being a celebrity and stuff. No bad words or anything, just, he’s ... not very nice. Normally.” Why was he downplaying Snape’s behaviour?
“Professor Snape has little patience for students he thinks are not trying hard enough.” Dumbledore did not sound so concerned anymore. “But you are not in school right now, and you are ill.”
Dumbledore made it sound like Snape was just strict, like McGonagall. But the man hated him!
It just didn’t make sense!
What made even less sense was that he somewhat wished Snape hadn’t had to leave. He had liked the feeling of being ... yes, fussed over. Now, he had a fever reducing potion and there would be no need for fussing anytime soon.
And he also didn’t want to drink any tea, because he didn’t want to need the bathroom, because he didn’t want to ask Dumbledore to help him walk there.
The Dursley’s habit of limiting his access to the bathroom served him well, now.
When Harry woke with a full bladder, Dumbledore was gone. The only problem was that Snape was gone as well – to bed, probably.
Well. He was more recovered than they had made Dumbledore believe, wasn’t he? He could walk.
And so he did. This time, he made it to the bathroom without having to sit down.
After using the loo, he washed his hands. Washing one’s hands was important.
But after that, he could take a break.
**
Severus sleepily hit his alarm clock, only to hear its annoying voice repeat its message: “Time to wake up, Severus.”
It had been a gift from Dumbledore, when he had started teaching at Hogwarts. And it spoke with the man’s voice.
He had kept it because he couldn’t be bothered to get a new one, but usually, he was awake before it even had a chance to annoy him.
So why now ...
Ah. Right. There was a sick child on his couch. Harry needed another dose of fever reducing potion before Severus could go back to sleep.
Not sleepy anymore, Severus stood and walked down the stairs.
There was a heap of blankets on the couch, and even though he knew, deep down, there would be no boy under them, Severus still checked.
What had Potter done now?
Had Dumbledore said something that had upset the boy? Caused him to run away?
Or could ... no, there were no signs of a fight, the tea and the fever reducing potion were still on the table where he had left them. Potter was not so weak he wouldn’t wake and fight if someone tried to abduct him, now? On the other hand, he hadn’t woken when Severus had apparated him here ...
Still, the house was well-protected, someone breaking in would have caused some disturbance in his spells.
If the boy had left on his own volition, he couldn’t have gone very far.
Severus’ intuition told him that things could not be so very bad, but that didn’t stop him from worrying.
Where would Potter have gone? Now was the time to use this muggle detective method he had told Dumbledore about.
Ah.
Of course. The bathroom. It just had to be the bathroom. Even the alternative of Potter out on the streets with his naked feet ... no, it had to be ...
And it was.
Severus let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he had been holding. There, slumped against the bathtub, was the boy.
He knelt next to him and checked, just to be sure. The fever hadn’t risen too high, the boy had a heartbeat. Good.
Just an early morning excursion to the bathroom.
Typical for a Potter, to overestimate his own abilities and ...
Severus shook his head. No, he was being unfair. The boy must have needed the bathroom, and even if he had called, Severus might have slept through it.
Had he managed to get there in time?
Severus checked. There was no puddle on the floor. Good.
“Come, now.” He gathered the boy in his arms, gangly limbs dangling everywhere – he was probably doing this wrong – and carried him back to the couch.
After setting the boy down, he checked the bare feet. They were cold to the touch. Should they be? How long had the boy spent on the bathroom floor?
He still had not woken.
But he needed to take the potion. Severus didn’t feel up to staying awake for much longer. He had excused himself from the party as early as was possible without being rude, but had had to discuss his findings with Dumbledore afterwards, and three hours of sleep ... he could run on that little sleep, but it was not wise. Not with the boy running a fever.
Being jostled around wouldn’t wake the child, so what ... ah.
Severus flicked his wand to switch on the light.
“Wake up, time for your potion.”
And indeed, the boy’s eyelids fluttered open. “What ...?”
“Just drink this.” Severus uncorked the fever reducing potion and held it to the boy’s lips.
Harry swallowed the potion. Was it morning already?
But no, Snape switched the light off and told him to go back to sleep. Huh.
Had he dreamt going to the bathroom? But he didn’t need to go, now. Strange. He couldn’t remember walking back.
Probably he was just too sleepy to think properly, Harry decided before drifting back to sleep.
When he woke up next, daylight was streaming through the dirty windows. Harry put on his glasses.
Snape looked tired, and there was an untouched breakfast in front of him.
“Sir? Are you alright?”
Snape’s head snapped up. “I am merely tired. How are you?”
“Um. Fine, I guess?”
“Do you think you could keep down some porridge?”
“I think so?” He had been able to last time.
“Good.”
Snape left, but returned shortly after with a bowl of watery porridge that he put in front of Harry. “You didn’t talk to Professor Dumbledore much?”
“No, sir.” Harry smiled when he noticed the Christmas decorations had been put back up. It wasn’t Christmas anymore, and soon, school would start again ... “I just asked him if ... if I am dreaming.”
“Good thinking, he’ll have thought you still delirious.” It sounded almost like Snape approved.
“Yes, but ... I didn’t ask because of that. I just ... there aren’t really parallel universes in the magical world, are there?” Unbelievable as it seemed, this must be the one and only real Snape.
Snape raised an eyebrow. “Not that I know, no.”
“So you never really believed I was someone else?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why ...” It wasn’t just the hot water bottle. It was the tea. The present. Even the potions. Why would Snape do all that?
“Even during the holidays, you are still my student.I couldn’t very well leave you to die of starvation. Or do you think Arthur Weasley would ignore something like, say, a cursed carpet that eats muggles just because he is on a holiday?”
“Um, no, sir, but you could have sent me back to the Dursleys. Or written to Professor Dumbledore.”
Snape frowned. “I know how it is”, he finally admitted. “To have the kind of home you would prefer the streets to. As you did not make a nuisance of yourself, I saw no reason to send you back there.”
Harry was incredibly confused. Had Dumbledore been right? Was Snape just a strict teacher and not so bad, after all?
“And if I, um, try very hard not to make a nuisance of myself when we are back at Hogwarts ...?” The idea that Snape, real, regular Snape could be reasoned with was intriguing.
“Do not expect me to change my teaching methods. I did not get to be the youngest Head of House by being ... soft.”
The youngest? Harry hadn’t ever even thought about Snape’s age, but it was true, he was a lot younger than most other teachers. Not younger than Lockhart, but Lockhart didn’t really count.
“Besides, if you wish to retain any hope of mending your friendship with young Weasley, it would behoove you to be seen as my enemy.”
Of course. Being more respectful of Snape would just convince Ron entirely that Harry must be the Heir of Slytherin.
The cunning bastard!
Manipulating people like this seemed wrong, but at the same time, Harry couldn’t help admiring the sheer skill that went into it.
“However, it would save you a considerable amount of time and energy to just cross me off your list of suspects for whatever sinister scheme to cause students grievous bodily harm is currently going on at the school. Focus instead, if you will, on your studies, so as to thwart my evil plans of giving you a failing grade”, Snape continued drily.
Harry chuckled. “Yes, sir.”
"And perhaps, if you feel able to ... remember that I do not always mean what I say. As you witnessed in my conversation with the headmaster. Seeing you treated unfairly by me will, I am sure, do wonders for young Mr. Weasley's willingness to see reason, and, later on, will encourage him to maintain his friendship with you."
That was, Harry figured, really the best he could hope for.
If Ron forgave him, and he didn't have to take Snape's snide remarks all that seriously anymore, then perhaps ... next Christmas might be the best Christmas ever.
Chapter 6
The End.