Calamity by MellarkandArt

The weeks of September passed by awkwardly.

Harry made every effort to avoid Snape and Snape seemed to make every effort to do exactly the opposite. Harry’s attempts were futile when it seemed like every time he turned around it was “Mr. Potter” this and “Mr. Potter” that.

It was a bit funny in some ways, as Snape was only trailing behind him like a lost puppy because of their so-called relationship, the relationship in which Harry wasn’t exactly a Potter…

Harry tried to push down his feelings of anxiety as he side-eyed the potion sitting next to his cup of pumpkin juice during breakfast in the Great Hall. He couldn’t possibly still need to take the nutritional potion, he had been in far worse condition upon his return to Hogwarts in previous years after summer holidays and was no worse for it.

It needed to be taken with food, anyway, and Harry was in no mood for bacon and eggs. He felt queasy just thinking about it.

Harry had been struggling with eating a lot lately. He had never really been that great at eating meals, whether it be by choice or force, and with his now pretty much constant anxiety he found it nearly impossible to choke something down.

Glancing up at the staff table, he saw that Snape wasn’t even at breakfast. He wasn’t currently stalking Harry like the great overgrown bat he was, so he wouldn’t even know…

Ignoring the potion, Harry grabbed a piece of toast before rushing out of the hall, telling his friends he had to go to the loo and would meet them in their first class.

***

Harry awoke with a gasp, sweat leaving a trail down his back after once again bearing witness to his mother’s death. Her screams echoed through his ears as he made an effort to steady his breathing.

He hadn’t known for sure, at first, what exactly the memory the Dementors had brought to him was, but after having dreams like this for several nights, the concept had become evident.

Once he would have given anything to have a memory of his mother, but if this was the only one he was allowed to have, he desperately wished that he could just forget again.

Harry squinted at his watch through the darkness. One thirty in the morning… Harry sighed, lying back down under his crumpled-up duvet. He had already taken the Dreamless Sleep potion three times that week, so he couldn’t take another dose for a few nights.

Did it really matter though? Snape tended to be a bit dramatic about his potions… In the Muggle world, medication had similar instructions about when it could be taken and spreading doses apart, but exceptions could be made from time to time. You couldn’t really overdose by taking three tablets of ibuprofen instead of two, just once…

Harry got out of bed and quietly dragged his trunk out, retrieving the Dreamless Sleep vial from it. He didn’t have many doses left and he certainly wasn’t going to ask Snape for more, especially when the man would know he took it more often than directed… Perhaps he could just ask Madam Pomfrey for some? It was unlikely that she knew Snape had already given him a vial…

Didn’t matter much at the moment, anyway. Harry was exhausted and he couldn’t go back to sleep with the fear of such awful nightmares hanging over his head. Wasn’t remembering during the daytime enough? Why did the memory have to invade his sleeping hours as well?

Harry uncorked the vial and took a swallow before stuffing it back in his trunk and falling onto his mattress for another peaceful, dreamless sleep.

***

Someone was shaking him.

“Harry, it’s time to wake up,” a voice said.

“Mmmpfhh,” he responded. The intruder left him alone with that and Harry drifted back off to sleep.

***

He was being shaken, again.

“Harry, wake up!”

“N-noo,” Harry whined, turning his face into his pillow. He was just trying to sleep, why couldn’t people just leave him alone?

Harry suddenly felt like crying. There was a difference between oversleeping and just not wanting to wake up. Harry had slept like the dead and he found that feeling dead was pretty nice.

Unfortunately, someone just wouldn’t leave him in peace.

“Harry, you’re going to be late for class if you don’t wake up. Are you sick or something?”

For a moment Harry contemplated lying and saying yes, he was very very sick and couldn’t possibly get out of bed, but then he thought about being dragged to the hospital wing and the idea lost its appeal.

“No,” Harry sighed, sitting up in his bed and rubbing his eyes. “Just tired.”

Someone handed him his glasses and he blinked up at Ron who still had his hand resting on his shoulder. Harry shook it off as he stumbled out of bed.

“Can you believe that I’m the one dragging you out of bed now?” Ron teased, though there was a worried expression on his face. Harry rolled his eyes.

“It was bound to happen one day, try not to gloat so much.”

“Yeah, well, everyone else has already left for breakfast so you’d best hurry.”

“You’re missing breakfast for me?” Harry asked with a dramatic air of admiration, but honestly, he did feel a bit touched that Ron would miss a meal just to try to get Harry out of bed. It didn’t seem like much, but, well, food did hold a special place in his best mate’s heart.

Ron smirked before looking down, the tips of his ears turning a bit pink. “Yeah, well… Now that you’re up, do you mind if I go on down?”

Harry laughed. “Not at all, I’m not so cruel as to keep a man from his sausages.”

Ron grinned, “I’ll be sure to save some for you, I dunno if you’ll have time.”

“Don’t bother, I’m not really hungry. I’ll just wait for lunch,” Harry said, shrugging.

Ron frowned but nodded. “Okay, see you in first class.”

“See you,” Harry said, turning towards his trunk and taking out his clothes.

***

Harry stood outside the hospital wing, shuffling his feet. He had at least a couple of swallows left of the potion, but he wanted to get this out of the way. He certainly didn’t want to be caught without the potion…

This morning he had really struggled with waking up, but he had been exhausted and he had taken the potion in the middle of the night. It was meant to keep you under for eight hours and he’d only slept for six or seven hours after taking it.

It had nothing to do with it being his fourth dose in a seven day period.

He sighed as he pushed through the hospital doors. Nothing for it…

“Mr. Potter!” A brisk voice greeted him. He cringed inwardly, remembering all the times he had been dragged up here after Quidditch injuries and now here he was of his own free will, volunteering his presence.

Madam Pomfrey looked a bit surprised to see him here herself, with no one by his side forcing him into the wing. Or being levitated while unconscious…

“What can I help you with?” the medi-witch interrupted his thoughts. He bit his lip. He hated asking for things, especially something like this… this, which would be awkward as hell.

“Um,” Harry started, glancing around the wing and noting that one of the beds was occupied. “Erm, can I talk to you about something?”

Madam Pomfrey seemed to grimace a bit, but she nodded in understanding. “Yes, of course, follow me to my office.”

Harry trailed behind her, feeling more and more nervous by the second. What if she did somehow know that Snape had already given him a vial of potion, just a few weeks ago? What if she just said no?

Madam Pomfrey sat in one of the visitor chairs in front of her desk and Harry sat in the one across from her.

“Now,” Madam Pomfrey sighed, picking up a few pamphlets from her desk. Harry couldn’t see what they said, but he wasn’t sure why he would need a pamphlet in any case. “You are a bit young to be thinking of such things, of course, but I suppose it’s better to be prepared,” she muttered, handing him the pamphlets and continuing her speech before Harry could really process what he was holding.

“In the Muggle world there are numerous products to prevent pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases, and you should still educate yourself about them should you desire a… relationship with a Muggle, but as for the Wizarding World, there are plenty of contraception spells that are advised-“

Harry had begun to tune her out as he stared down at the pamphlets, detailing words and images he had never imagined being handed to him by an adult, never wanted an adult to hand him such a thing…

“-the most important one, of course, being the-“

“Madam Pomfrey,” Harry interrupted, feeling his face heating up more now than ever before in his life. “I, I don’t- this is not what I wanted to talk about-“

“Well, I doubt that any young man wants to talk about it, many students prefer to be handed the products and be done with it, but you simply must face the reality that one night of fun can lead to a lifetime of consequences. I can not in good conscious simply allow you to-”

“No! I mean- I’m thirteen!” he exclaimed, practically throwing the pamphlets back at her. “I, honestly, this isn’t what I…”

Now Madam Pomfrey was the one turning red. Harry never imagined seeing such a color gracing her features and he desperately wished he never had to be in such a situation to witness it.

“I apologize, Mr. Potter, usually it…” she shook her head slightly. “What was it you wanted to discuss with me, then?”

Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before speaking. Of all the horrible scenarios he imagined, this one definitely did not even cross his mind…

“I… I was just wondering, if… well, if I could ask you for some Dreamless Sleep potion?”

Madam Pomfrey’s cheeks were still tinged pink, but her eyes softened. “And why would that be?”

Harry looked down, absentmindedly tugging at his sleeves. “It’s just that I, uh… I’ve been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately. Having bad dreams. After the um, the Dementors…”

Harry couldn’t see her face with his eyes focused on his lap so intently, but he could almost sense her nodding as she stood and went over to her potions cupboard.

“Of course,” she said as she came back over to him. “I’m sure it must be very difficult…”

Harry felt bad for practically using her, then. But he did feel that he needed the potion, even if he wasn’t willing to ask Snape for it or tell her he had already used it before...

“I’m afraid that you can only take this two times a week at the most, otherwise it could become addictive as well as lose its effectiveness.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. Snape had definitely written three times a week on his note. He was a Potions Master, so surely he couldn’t be incorrect about the dosage… Why would he allow an extra day?

And that would also mean that he had taken double the recommended dose this week… Harry’s stomach flipped unpleasantly at the idea of consequences, but it rolled even more uncomfortably at the thought of more dreams of his mother…

“Thank you, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry murmured as he took the vial from her.

She nodded. “I’m sorry that I can’t be of more help. Two times a week isn’t much of a relief, I know, but I suppose it’s something. Sometimes talking about it helps, you know.”

Inwardly, Harry snorted. Who did he have to talk about it with? His friends couldn’t possibly understand and he had no interest in disturbing them with the realities of his life. Professor McGonagall? Definitely not. Despite being a head of house, she wasn’t exactly the nurturing type… Snape? He was always offering an ear, but there was no way in hell Harry was going to take him up on that offer. If McGonagall’s position as head of house was questionable, Snape’s was outlandish.

Outwardly, he nodded. “Thank you,” he said again before exiting her office and the hospital wing.

***

Harry took his time walking back to Gryffindor tower. It was Friday afternoon, classes were out for the weekend and he wasn’t really in a hurry to make it to dinner, either.

Just as he was thinking of taking a turn to go outside for a stroll around the lake, he ran into someone - literally.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry muttered before realizing just who it was. Well, he was still sorry, just maybe not as much. Surprise, surprise, it was Snape.

Harry bent down to pick up the Dreamless Sleep potion and stuffed it into his pocket, hoping Snape hadn’t noticed it and thankful that the glass vial apparently had an unbreakable charm on it. He definitely did not want to brave the hospital wing again for more, Madam Pomfrey may decide that he still needed that talk regardless of whether he wanted it or not.

A hand was offered to help him back up, and Harry hesitantly accepted it. Snape’s firm grip wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back up. Harry flushed and kept his gaze to the ground.

“Erm thanks,” he said after a moment of silence. He did force himself to look up then and saw that his professor was scrutinizing him with that frightful obsidian gaze, a scowl furrowing his brows but he seemed to clear his features when his eyes met Harry’s.

Unwilling to maintain eye contact with those dark orbs, Harry looked down again.

Snape kept quiet and Harry found himself missing the Snape who wouldn’t shut up and leave him alone, this silence was deafening.

“Well,” Harry started, feeling more awkward by the second, “I suppose I’d best get to my dorm. Homework and all…”

“I do believe that it is nearly dinner time, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you should make your way to the Great Hall instead?” Snape finally spoke.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Harry said, feeling chastised though Snape couldn’t possibly know he was kind of, sort of, not really skipping meals when the man rarely appeared at them himself.

When it became clear that Snape had nothing more to say, Harry fled the scene. Casually, of course.

He stood outside the Great Hall, debating his entrance. His stomach was feeling rather full of that familiar anxiety and he didn’t think he could force anything down his throat just now. He turned and slipped away to his dormitory.

***

Severus stood in the shadows, watching his son hesitate at the doors of the Great Hall before turning towards Gryffindor tower.

Severus growled low in his throat. This was clearly not the first meal Harry had skipped if his bony wrist was anything to go by. His efforts with brewing the nutritional potion had clearly been wasted. On the rare occasion that Severus actually saw the boy at meals, he hardly ate anything at all.

It was ironic and a bit baffling, the child had been forcibly starved all throughout his childhood and now that he was free from his relatives at last, he was doing the same thing to himself...

Severus scrowled. He wasn’t supposed to care about the brat, but the brat had become his brat, and he wasn’t going to allow his brat to starve himself.

Someone had to look out for the child, his child… and if you wanted something done right, you just had to do it yourself.

None of the other professors seemed at all concerned about it. He’d brought the subject up with Minerva, but even she used the moody teenager excuse. Well, moody was about right, but it didn’t make the teen’s feelings invalid just because they were the result of hormones. And perhaps also due to the stress of finding out your most hated professor is actually your father…

Severus had wanted to respect his son’s wishes and stay away from him, but he couldn’t seem to manage it. His well-maintained self-control was slipping more and more each day as he watched Harry fall apart.

If Harry wanted to ignore their relationship, well… that was his choice. Severus did not, however, feel that the boy should have a choice in whether he cared for himself or not. And if he wouldn’t (or couldn’t) care for himself, Severus would just have to do it for him.

He wasn’t putting up with this any longer. Severus wouldn’t allow his son to continue on his path to self-destruction.