His pillow was damp and cold under his ears from where he’d been crying moments earlier. Harry would have liked to turn it over, but he couldn’t shift his position in the slightest. The only things he really could move were his eyelids. Frustration rippled through him in spite of his body’s natural want to be mellow and digest the stuff that Snape had fed to him.

Because he had no alternative, Harry had waited quietly for Snape’s spell to wear off as the man had said it would. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. Soon Harry had been lying completely still for over an hour, and an itch on his nose was driving him mad. He was ready to scream. He needed to be able to move, but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen anytime soon.

When two hours had finally passed Harry heard the door open and spied Snape’s black robes from the corner of his eye and the man approached. Aggravation pushed heat to his cheeks. He wanted to get up!

“Still indisposed, Potter?” Snape shook his head in mock pity. “Once again you are making things more difficult than they need to be.”

Why is everything always my fault? Harry thought angrily.

“Perhaps it is better for you to remain that way for a while longer. A few days, maybe. After you’ve had a few feedings, and a chance to regain some strength, I’ll let you up.”

What? Stay like this for a few days! Be fed from a tube more than once. Oh, no! NO! Harry felt panic mixing with his anger. His breath was coming in frustrated gasps now. He was going to start to cry. He couldn’t believe that this was happening to him. At least when he suffered at the hands of his relatives, he was able to move. This was so unfair!

He closed his eyes as he felt warmth pooling to form tears.

“You do realize that you’re not helping yourself by getting all worked up,” Snape said coldly.

Shut it, Snape! It’s not like you actually care anyway!

“My suggestion to you, Mr. Potter, is that you take a breath and make an attempt to regain some composure. In small, simple words, Potter, calm down.”

Why? It’s not like it will make any difference anyway. Harry could feel Snape’s expectant gaze on him. Snape was waiting . . . waiting for Harry to obey him. To listen to his advice.

Snape towered over Harry. He knelt and put his hooked nose close to the boy’s ear. He was so close he was nearly touching Harry. Harry could feel little, warm puffs of breath on the side of his face. He wanted to cringe away, but he settled for clamping his eyes closed once more.

“Potter, did you hear me?” Snape whispered. “I asked you to calm down.”

He couldn’t do it. Harry could not recoup any composure. His heart was pounding, the frantic beat sounding mercilessly in his ears. Snape was still kneeling beside him. Not in his face anymore, but still far too close as far as Harry was concerned.

Snape made audible sigh that was more like a groan of discontent. He could not believe he was doing this. Gently he reached out and pushed a few stray pieces of dark hair away from the boy’s eyes. Harry took in a sharp breath, as if in protest of the uninvited contact. Snape pulled back for a moment, and then reached into his pocket for his clean handkerchief.

Patiently, Snape wiped the sweat and stray tears from Harry’s forehead and cheeks. “Must everything be difficult with you?” Snape asked in a mild tone.

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to think. Surely, Snape didn’t really mean any of it. The gentleness must have been forced from somewhere. Because someone like Snape didn’t really care about anything or anyone. Did he?

“Easy, Potter,” Snape said quietly. Carefully he placed his cool hand against the boy’s forehead, over the scar that had given the boy both fame and misery. Harry winced as Snape’s hand lingered over his scar. He wanted Snape to go away; even if he was acting kinder than Harry had ever thought possible. “I don’t understand this need to resist constantly, Potter. I haven’t done a thing to harm you. You must know that.”

Harry listened to Snape’s mellow voice. The tone was meant to soothe him, and for a moment he thought he would let it. He took in a deep breath and let it go slowly, but the heavy feeling of distress refused to leave him. He could not become calm like this.

Snape stopped talking. He narrowed his eyes and jerked his hand away from Potter’s forehead as if the boy’s skin had singed his hand. He stood abruptly and stared down at Harry as if he were considering his next move in a game.

“It’s time for your next feeding, Potter, since you still cannot care for yourself we shall employ the artificial method once more.”

Wait! No! Don’t do that! Harry felt his breath quickening again, and anger and anxiety were rising like heat from a bonfire.

“I’ll return in a moment with your supper,” Snape said with a coldness in his voice that made Harry completely forget the milder tone from a few moments ago.

When Snape returned with his supplies Harry wanted to let out a deep groan of disappointment, but he couldn’t do anything. Snape set his bag on the night stand and took out the warm bag of sloppy food. He set the stuff on Harry’s belly to free up his hands. Oh, take it away! Please just leave me alone! Snape took out the length of tube and opened the boy’s mouth. He passed it easily over the boy’s teeth and tongue to the back of the throat. Now when he pushed it down the boy would need to swallow again.

“Potter, swallow.” Snape pressed the tube forward and felt Harry jerk in a gag. “Don’t fight me. Just swallow it.”

No! Please! Don’t . . . He gagged a second time. Snape rolled his eyes in disgust, stupid boy.

“Potter, we both know you won’t eat if I don’t feed you. Now stop acting foolish. You’re only making yourself miserable.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, which were filled with tears from choking on the tube. I believe you’re the one making me miserable, Professor. I wanted to be left alone.

“Potter, do realize that it is not causing me any discomfort when you resist? You are only hurting yourself by being a stubborn fool. I am not leaving until you’ve been properly fed. How unpleasant the process is I leave entirely up to you.”

Snape reached up and tilted Harry’s head back a bit, and rubbed Harry’s throat with his thumb until the natural response kicked in. Easily now, Snape got the tube down and he allowed Harry’s head to settle back into its former place.

“Here we go, Potter. Another warm meal will do you good,” Snape said as he smoothed the first of the liquid goo down the line in a gentle, practiced motion.

Harry stared at the ceiling, ignoring the motion of Snape’s hands. Pouring and smoothing the fluid down the line. When it was finished Snape once again wiped the stray spit from Potter’s lips and stood to leave.

“Potter, had you listened to me earlier and calmed down as I had asked, we might have avoided this unpleasant business. That is the counter to the spell that is binding your limbs. You must be calm. Both mind and body. It is unfortunate that you refused to listen to me.” Snape left the room quietly locking the door behind him.

That was it! Be calm and the spell would break! How completely ridiculous! Harry would have laughed in disbelief had he been able to move. Was Snape simply lying to him to make him feel like a fool, or was the greasy git serious? Well, there was only one way to find out.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to think of things that brought him peace, but nothing came to mind.

Harry had tried everything that he could think of to become calm enough to break Snape’s charm. He’d tried all of Hermione’s stress relieving techniques, and everything that he’d been taught to prepare for a Quidditch match. Controlled breathing, closed eyes, open eyes, but nothing had even helped a tiny bit.

Harry began to wonder if perhaps Snape had left some crucial detail out of the counter like a key thought. Snape could have told him that being calm would break the spell when it really did nothing as a simple method of control. Harry had no way to know for certain.

********************

Someone was coming. Harry could just barely make out the sounds of hard soled shoes on the hardwood floors. Snape was coming back. Harry felt a little ripple of faint hope, perhaps Snape had come to set him free from the curse. He had been a frozen prisoner for nearly six insanely dull hours.

Harry heard the click of the lock as Snape turned the key and entered. He never thought that he would ever be even a little bit glad to see the potions master, but he was happy to see him. Snape was his only chance to getup from his prison of a bed again.

Snape had once again brought the satchel and while that was slightly disappointing Harry saw that Snape had not come alone this time. Madame Pomfrey was standing next to the grim professor a blank expression on her face. Madame Pomfrey! Perhaps she was Harry’s chance for escape from Snape!

Earlier Snape had told Harry that he had asked Madame Pomfrey to come out and check up on Harry’s progress. Harry had protested immediately. He was afraid that she would see how he had not gotten any better and then try to convince Professor Dumbledore that the best place for Harry was St. Mungo’s. Right now Harry didn’t care if he had to spend a year at St. Mungo’s, he’d go cheerfully. Almost anywhere was better than being totally humiliated by Snape.

Surely Madame Pomfrey will get angry with Snape for his unfair treatment of me. He could just imagine how things would go, she’d chastise Snape a bit, demand that he turn Harry loose and make Snape apologize to him and then take him back with her to Hogwarts or to St. Mungo’s. Either way he didn’t care, so he’d allow her to decide without his input. All he really cared about was getting away from Snape.

Madame Pomfrey did not look too happy, but she kept her comments to herself. She bustled over to Harry’s bedside and took his pulse, looked into his eyes and did a few other things to see how he was doing. Harry waited for her to say that what Snape had done was wrong, but she hadn’t said anything. Instead she returned to where Snape was standing and talked with him just low enough so that Harry wasn’t able to hear.

They didn’t appear to be arguing from what Harry could see. After a few moments Madame Pomfrey returned to Harry’s bedside.

“Mr. Potter, I’m surprised at your foolish behavior,” She began to scold him and it took him several moments to realize that she was upset with him, and not with Snape. “I expect you to behave better for Professor Snape. The Headmaster will not be pleased to hear that you’ve been making yourself worse rather than improving.”

She reached down and put a hand on his forehead. “I think that we’ll give you a few more days with Snape. He seems to know how to handle you.”

Harry’s heart was pounding. His hope for escaping Snape’s clutches was swiftly fading away. She isn’t going to defend me! She’s going to leave me here? Oh, no!! Please, Just take me with you!

The medi-witch seemed to sense Harry’s distress and she patted his shoulder gently. “Now Harry, I’m certain that if you show some cooperation Professor Snape will return the favor. He’s done a good job healing your other injuries, and he can’t do as good a job helping you if you fight him. The more you cooperate the faster you will recover, young man. Take care, Harry. I do not expect to be called back here for a second visit.”

Second visit? Didn’t she mean a third visit?

Madame Pomfrey had turned away from him to speak with Snape once again. As they had before the two adult wizards kept their voices soft enough that Harry could not hear them. He tried to hear, but all he could pick up on was when one of them said his own name and nothing important, such as when he should be allowed up again.

Snape was showing her out now, and they both left Harry alone in his room. Several agonizing minutes passed. What had happened? What had Snape said to her? Had he mentioned the reason behind the forced feedings? The fact that when I had been eating earlier he’d been drugging me? Most likely not, thanks very much.

When Snape returned, he reached for the satchel on the night stand and sat on the edge of Harry’s bed. Harry felt himself groan internally. Not Again! Snape took out the coil of tubing and threaded it through his long fingers.

“Potter,” Snape began. “I am willing to give you a chance to redeem yourself.”

Snape set the coil of clean tubing down on the bed and reached into his robe for his wand. With a simple twist of Snape’s wrist, Harry felt his jaw relax. Harry’s throat felt scratchy; he wondered if he’d be able to speak.

“Do as I say and I’ll release you. Defy me and you’ll find yourself stuck here for a long while, and then I will tell Madame Pomfrey that in my opinion you are hopeless.”

“What . . . what is it that you want, Sir?” Harry choked out the words, as his throat protested desperately.

Snape turned to the night stand and gave a little smile. He’d grabbed the fresh bag of gooey food. He turned to Harry, his expression menacing. “For starters . . . eat this. With a spoon.”

Harry felt his fingers twitch. He could move his arms! He pushed himself up into a sitting position and shakily took the food and spoon that Snape offered to him. He set his spoon in his still dead lap and attempted to break the seal on the bag that Snape had handed to him.

His arms shook from the effort, but the normally easy seal refused to give. Harry looked up at Snape, who’d been watching him struggle for several seconds. Snape made a little noise in his throat, but what it meant Harry had no idea.

“Sir, I can’t open it. Can you help me, please?”

Snape glared at Harry, and for a moment he was certain that Snape intended to tell him to not be weak, but Snape nodded and held out a hand for the bag. Harry swallowed with relief and with shaking hands handed the stuff back to Snape. Snape easily opened the bag and carefully handed it back to Harry.

“Don’t spill it,” Snape warned.

Harry shook his head. He’d try not to spill it, or look at it or taste it for that matter.

“It’s not really all that bad, Potter. Get started or it’ll get cold,” Snape said quietly. Harry realized he must’ve been making a displeased face, and he looked at Snape as if he meant to playfully ask if the man wanted to share, but Snape’s cold expression put a stop to any thoughts of joviality.

Harry nodded, yes, and looked at the stuff. It still looked very, very nasty. He took a spoonful of the stuff and watched as his hand shook so badly that most of the goo landed in his lap. What he’d managed to keep on the spoon he gave a sniff and attempted to pilot it toward his mouth. He brought the spoon in close, and managed to brush his nose with it smearing the goo over a nostril. His hands were so shaky!

He felt his face warm with embarrassment, and he refused to look at Snape. He managed to get the spoon in his mouth this time, raking it roughly by his teeth and across the roof of his mouth.

“Potter,” Snape said. Harry looked up, eyes wide, feeling fear ripple through him. He thinks I’m not trying! Harry could see now that Snape was offering him a rag, and he eased up a bit. “Wipe your face off, and try once more.”

Harry set his spoon inside the bag and let Snape trade him. The bag for the rag. Harry wiped his face off as best he could and set the washcloth in his lap. Snape returned the food to him.

Harry retrieved his spoon and took a deep breath to prepare to try again. He took another spoonful and steered it toward his mouth. He’d nearly made it when his trembling hand poured the stuff down the front of his robes. Harry nervously swallowed a bit of air. This would be so much easier if his hands would quit shaking!

“Potter, I don’t believe that this is working out very well,” Snape said quietly.

“Professor, please! It’s not my fault! My hands won’t stop shaking! Let me try again, please!” Harry was surprised at the frantic voice that was coming from his lips. He was breathing quickly. Fear was clearly pasted on his face.

“Potter,” Snape began softly. “If you continue this way, you will go hungry.”

“No,” he protested quickly. “I won’t spill anymore,” Harry said, despite the fact that he knew his hands would not back him.

Snape looked at Harry and shook his head. “You’re too weak to stop yourself.”

Harry flinched slightly as Snape reached out to take the food from him. He wanted to resist and clutch the stuff to him, but he allowed Snape to take it back.

“I’ll help you,” Snape said.

Harry’s eyes immediately drifted toward the coiled tube on the bed. Snape followed the boy’s gaze as he absently stirred the watery mush with the spoon.

“We’ll try it without that for now, Potter. Since it seems to trouble you, but I don’t want to hear one word of protest. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded, feeling more than a little relieved. He concentrated on the spoon. If he didn’t look at Snape, he could pretend that the man wasn’t there. Snape spooned out a little of the food and held it near Harry’s face. Harry stared at it, as if he had no idea what he should do.

“Well come on, Potter,” Snape said roughly. “Open your mouth.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, and Snape stared at him, waiting. Snape dropped the spoon back into the bag and glared at Harry. “The other method,” Snape growled, “is still an open option if this is too difficult for you.”

Harry immediately shook his head. “No, I don’t want to do that. Please, not yet.”

“Very well,” Snape said retrieving the spoon and scooping out a bit of stuff.

After the first few hesitant and awkward bites of food it became easier to simply concentrate on the task of eating and not on the person feeding him. The goo itself wasn’t so bad. Harry had been afraid that it would taste like a badly flavored Bertie Bott bean, but really it was just rather bland. The taste could be compared to a plain pudding or muggle baby food. He would tolerate it just for the chance to get up and stretch his legs again.

He was getting full. Really full. I can’t finish! There’s too much! Harry pulled back slightly as Snape offered him another bite. He stared at the bag which was still more than half full.

“Mr. Potter, you have not finished yet,” Snape said menacingly.

Harry cringed. Yes, I can see that, thanks.

“Do you recall what I said?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry mumbled. Snape had said that he had to eat with a spoon he never said anything about finishing the stuff!

Snape was resealing the bag of Harry’s food and he put it back into the satchel. Once the food was stashed Snape reached for his wand and pointed it at Harry. He’s going to curse me again!

For a moment Snape cherished the terrified expression on the boy’s face, and then he lowered his wand. “I take it, Mr. Potter, that you do not wish to get up and attend to other needs.”

Wait, so he’s not going to curse me? “Well, Professor, I just thought that . . . well,” Harry paused. There wasn’t really a tactful way to express what he was thinking so he did not say anything.

After letting Harry stew for a few more minutes over whether or not Snape was going to leave him half paralyzed, Snape released Harry from the spell. Snape stood from his spot on Harry’s bed and motioned for Harry to get up. A panicked look crossed Harry’s face. He couldn’t move his legs! “Sir, I still can’t move.” Are you sure you used the right spell?

“Well, of course you can’t move, Potter,” Snape snapped. “Your legs have fallen asleep.”

“Oh,” Harry said feeling a little better. Snape had stalked over and swung Harry’s dead feet over the edge of the bed. After a few moments the feeling started to come back in the form of a nasty buzzing sensation.

When the irritating buzzing in his legs had finally stopped Harry gave a little smile and wiggled his toes as if he could see them through his boots. Snape glowered, watching Harry like a bad-tempered cat watching a puppy.

“Well, if you’re finished amusing yourself, you should probably get up and attend to yourself.”

Harry pushed himself off of the bed and stood on his weak legs. The bathroom wasn’t that far away, he was quite sure that he could make it without asking for any help. He took a test step, and moved to make another. Harry could feel his leg muscles shaking. He took another step and faltered. He was going to fall, and his arms were still too weak to protect him.

The carpet took the brunt of the impact from his fall rather well. It hadn’t really hurt except for the unpleasant stinging sensation of a mild carpet burn. After he fell Harry didn’t move for several seconds. He knew Snape had been standing very close just watching him struggle to walk and then had let him fall.

Harry pushed himself onto his knees, but he could not bring himself to stand. His muscles would not obey! He tried for several minutes, grunting with effort and then fell back onto the carpet in exhausted defeat.

“What have I been saying to you this entire time, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked in a biting tone. The man was clearly annoyed over something.

Harry groaned loudly. He did not feel like listening to a lecture when all he wanted was to use the restroom. Harry thought about it for a moment. What has Snape been saying to me? Finally, something came to mind. That he was making things more difficult than they needed to be. Is that what I’ve been doing this entire time? Certainly not! Whatever, Professor, it’s not like you’re making things any EASIER for me. WHAT WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN ANYWAY?

Snape stormed over to the night stand and retrieved something from his pouch. “If you don’t make it, Potter, clean up after yourself.” Snape sneered and then tossed something at Harry. It was a rag. Harry wanted to throw it right back, but he didn’t need to waste his energy fighting with Snape. Instead he chose to try and ignore the git who stood there watching him struggle to move.

Nearly five minutes had passed and Harry had only moved a tiny distance forward. Finally he gave up. It wasn’t his house anyway. Who cares if it smells like pee? Well, I don’t. He gave a tiny laugh at the thought of wetting himself in front of Snape.

“Well, Potter, why are you just sitting there? Get a move on!” Snape barked with a crooked smile barely showing on his face.

Harry tried again, but didn’t move an inch. “I can’t! I can’t do it! Is that what you want to hear, Professor?” Harry shouted in frustration.

Snape glared at him, and Harry immediately regretted raising his voice at the man. “It is not wise to test my patience, boy.”

Harry mumbled an apology, even though he really wasn’t all that sorry. Snape was till standing there watching him, when he could have been helping him. No, that’s what decent people do. Not what Professor Snape does. He does not help people.

Why Snape stood there watching the boy struggle to get up from the floor he couldn’t say. Yes, in a way it was amusing to watch the boy fight for something that should have been so easy, that must’ve been why he had remained. He’d intended to leave the room the moment the boy had shouted at him, but for one reason or another he stayed. And he waited.

Had the idiot boy asked for help in the first place Snape might have said yes, and then again he might have said no. He really wasn’t in the mood for this game that Potter seemed to be playing, but with nothing better to do he had no excuse to leave.

He allowed Potter to struggle a little while longer, while it was still amusing. And then when it became more of an annoyance Snape took out his wand again. He whispered an incantation and watched Potter’s reaction. . The boy tensed momentarily as tingling warmth went through his lower abdomen and then as it faded he seemed to relax. .

Harry flopped onto his back, breathing a little quickly. He looked angry.

“Feel better, Potter?” Snape asked smugly.

Harry glared at the ceiling as he considered a response. He wasn’t sure what spell Snape had used to save him from making a mess on the carpet, and while he did feel better he wasn’t grateful. When he saw Hermione again, Harry would have to ask her about that particular spell, it might have been useful later. “Why did you do that?”

“Well, my carpet is clean, and I would like it to stay that way,” Snape replied.

“Why didn’t you just help me in the first place? Instead of watching me make an idiot of myself!” Harry snapped in irritation.

“You did not ask for help, Potter,” Snape answered in a measured tone.

Oh, so I should have asked for help! Maybe you should’ve offered! Harry closed his eyes. He’d had enough. Whatever he said or did, it didn’t really matter. Only one person in the room was always right.

Snape had gone to the night stand again and retrieved the bag of food and his spoon. He walked over to Harry and dropped the items in front of the boy. “I still expect you to finish this, Potter,” Snape said in a sharp tone of warning, and then he took the rest of his belongings and left the room.

For a period of about two seconds Harry actually considered finishing his gooey meal. He picked it up attempted to break the new magical seal and when it didn’t give easily he hurled it away from himself fully intending to watch it splatter against the wall in a display of spite. Instead of making a satisfying SPLAT against the wall, the bag made it nearly halfway and then fell softly to the carpet with a little PLOP.

Harry mumbled a few bitter words to no one in particular and then closed his eyes to shut out the world. If he felt stronger after a short nap then he would make certain the food was splattered all over Snape’s wall.

********************

When Snape walked into the room to check on the boy awhile later, he’d fully expected Potter to still be lying where he’d last seen him. However, when Snape opened the door all he found on the floor was his half-eaten bag of cold mush.

Snape picked up the cold food and sneered at it before stuffing it into a pocket. He looked at the thick carpet. There were marks where Potter had dragged himself along the floor toward the bed. Dark eyes scanned the bed, but it was just he had last left it. No Potter.

He could feel a bit of irritation beginning to build as he stalked over to the bed and lifted the cover which had draped down to the floor. Why was the boy sleeping under the bed instead of on top of it? Snape grabbed a hold of one of the boy’s ankles and rudely dragged him out from under the bed. Startled by the rude awakening Harry cried out and shielded his face defensively.

“Isn’t it a tad odd to sleep under a bed rather than on top of it, Potter?” Snape asked softly as he watched the boy finally regaining his bearings.

“Well, I was going to sleep on the bed, but I guess I never made it that far,” Harry replied.

“Defensive aren’t we?” Snape jabbed, referring to Harry’s startled outburst.

“I just forgot where I was, and I thought . . . ” Harry trailed off not wanting to say anymore.

“I would not raise my hand to you in anger, Potter. I am perfectly willing to curse you, force feed you and allow you to fall on your face should the situation require it, but I would never strike you,” Snape’s voice was smooth, and despite his gruff words Harry almost felt reassured.

Snape took in a deep breath and released it slowly as if what he was about to say was very difficult for him. As Harry looked up at the tall man, he noted the all too familiar scowl, but there was something missing from his deadly serious stare. Harry found that he couldn’t place it. But it made him feel uneasy.

Snape cleared his throat. “Potter, I realize that there is a . . . shall we say a mutual . . . dislike between you and I. I do not expect your feelings about me to change any more than my own feelings toward you. However, it is my belief that if you cannot cast aside your feelings of mistrust long enough to allow me to help you, then you will not improve.”

Whatever had taken the iciness away from Snape’s critical stare had withered and died, because his fierceness had returned to him within seconds. Snape’s harsh gaze focused once more upon Harry, and the boy instantly felt the urge to fall back, but he dare not move.

“You did not finish this as I requested,” Snape said withdrawing the packet of goo from his pocket. “Even after I gave you the chance to do so on your own terms.” Snape was staring at the stuff in his hand as if it were a living creature. “Why is it that when I give you a chance to cooperate of your own free will, you refuse? Do you have a reason, Potter?”

Harry thought about this for a few seconds. Sure, he had a reason. A darn good one too, but Snape wouldn’t like it very much. Well, maybe it’s because I don’t trust you. Harry made something else up for an answer. “I wasn’t hungry,” he mumbled in a quick half truth.

“I think that you’re lying to me, Potter,” Snape growled, edging close to Harry and standing over him with a scrutinizing stare.

Harry met Snape’s stare for a moment and then broke away. He knew that if Snape wanted to he could find out the truth. “Think what you want,” Harry said quietly. He wasn’t going to change his answer.

Fury was rising in Snape, but he held it at bay, pushing it back down with a breath and a swallow. He knew a liar when he saw one, and at the moment Potter seemed to fit the description perfectly. Perhaps he’d give the boy one last chance at redemption.

“It is very reckless of you to tempt me while you are in my home, without your wand and barely able to stand under your own power for more than two minutes, boy,” Snape said folding his hands into the recesses of his dark robes, perhaps reaching for his wand. Harry tensed waiting to be attacked.

Despite the fact that he knew that an escape was impossible Harry’s eyes flicked to the door that led to the hallway. Snape easily traced Harry’s quick glance, and he smiled briefly. At times the boy was very easy to read.

“Even if you managed to make it to the door, you’d never make it to the courtyard.” Snape showed his hands once more. In one he held Harry’s unfinished meal and in the other he had his wand.

Snape flicked his wand suddenly, and Harry flinched badly. Then he realized rather sheepishly that the wand wasn’t pointed at him, but at the bag of disgusting goo resting in Snape’s hand. After a few seconds Snape lowered his wand, and then stashed it smoothly away in his robes. When Harry saw the wand disappear he was visibly relieved.

Snape shoved the bag of food into Harry’s hands. It was warm. Harry shuddered, he really didn’t want to eat it fresh, let alone hours old and rewarmed. He stared at it, and wished it would disappear, fly away, anything to save him from eating it.

“It’s still good, Potter, and I still expect it to be eaten,” Snape said with a nasty glare.

Harry looked up at Snape in disgust. He could just imagine the greasy professor telling him that no matter how old or moldy the bag of mush was it was still good. “I’m not eating this.”

Snape’s expression shifted to the face he made when he was about to insult Neville in class. Harry almost started to say that he would agree, that he’d just been being stubborn, but no sound came out when he opened his mouth to protest. Snape reached down and grabbed Harry by the arm and moved him the few feet to the bed.

“No wait!” Harry cried, suddenly finding his voice, but Snape acted as though he hadn’t heard. I’m sorry! Give me another chance!

Snape shifted his leverage over the boy and forced him down. Seconds later Harry was frozen with a familiar curse. Harry watched as Snape pulled a vial of murky blue liquid from his robes. He had no idea what the stuff was, but he was sure it wasn’t anything nice.

“You don’t recognize this, do you, Potter?” Snape said mockingly as he held the little container close to Harry’s nose. “This potion will replace the meal that you are skipping, but there are a few not so pleasant side effects.”

Side effects? Oh that’s just wonderful. Snape shook the little vial to mix the contents, and then he unstopped it. Harry could feel Snape moving his right hand so that palm was up. Snape poured a small amount of the liquid into Harry’s hand, and then replaced his stopper.

Harry could feel a mild burning sensation in his palm, and it seemed to be spreading rather quickly. He could feel his belly beginning to churn, like he was going to be sick soon. A feverish shiver coursed through him and his teeth began to chatter in the comfortable room.

“Well. Potter, I’ll leave you for the night. Not that you’ll get much rest now,” Snape said with an evil little grin.

The fire in his palm had moved deeper into his bones. Every nerve was tingling as though he had shoved his fingers into a light socket. If he could have screamed he would have, but the spell would not give, even for his pain.