It had taken several moments for Snape to regain his composure after Dumbledore had left. The wizard had not been left shaken by Dumbledore’s words, but by his own inner thoughts. He needed something to distract him for a moment. He needed to think things through.

First thing Snape set out for when he rose from his seat was to look in on Potter. He needed to be certain the boy was still in a peaceful sleep. Snape wasn’t sure how he would break it to Potter that he did not want the boy to go back to his blood relatives. There had to be a way to make the boy understand what he meant, how he felt about things.

He quietly opened the door and peered into the room. Without the light from the glow of a candle the room was quite dim. Snape had chosen a room without windows for Potter, lest he should try to escape and wander away on his own. Perhaps later he could move the boy to a room with large windows so that he could have a view of the world outside of his room.

Snape listened carefully at the doorway. His sharp ears picked up on Potter’s breathing. It was slow and even. The boy was still at ease. After a few moments Snape closed the door and decided that he needed to brew a few fresh potions that would quicken the boy’s recovery. Brewing potions would allow Snape time to think, and it would give him something to do besides pace about in frustration, which is what he felt like doing at the moment.

***

It was a while later when Harry woke from his peaceful sleep. It had been several hours in fact. He hadn’t wanted to wake, but rather needed to wake. His brain was receiving several signals of discomfort. A fair amount of these signals came from his injured leg, but another urgent one told him that he needed to move. He raised his head from the pillow and let it drop. This was so inconvenient. He had been sleeping so well too.

Harry knew that once he got up and finished with his business he’d never get to sleep the way that he had been sleeping just a few moments ago. Silently he cursed the inconsiderate nature of his bladder and sat up. From his place on the bed the bathroom looked so very, very far away.

It occurred to Harry that perhaps he should call Snape to help him, but he shuffled that thought to the back of his mind before his mouth could attempt to call out. He wasn’t going to cry for Snape because he had to . . . go potty. That was just plain stupid. Snape would think him an idiot for sure. So with a breath of determination Harry eased his legs over the side of his bed. He ignored the sharp zing of pain from his injured leg as best he could and stared ahead at his goal. The bathroom door.

Harry decided that the few steps it would take to get to the toilet would not be too difficult for him to manage. He settled weight on his good leg first and pushed off from the edge of the bed. Gingerly Harry set a bit of his body weight on the toes of his wounded leg. It hurt, but not unbearably so. Not like the painful and annoying sensations his bladder was sending through his body. He was close to the bursting point; he was almost sure of that. He’d probably been holding it for hours in his sleep, and now there was no time to put it off like he could during class or a Quidditch match.

Harry resisted the urge to dance about. Dancing would do his injured leg and his full bladder little good. He set his face with determination. He would cross the room under his own power no matter what.

***

Snape had finished brewing the potions that he thought would help the boy. There were three different potions. The vials were filled with things to calm, ease pain and another was to strengthen Potter’s constitution. A weak boy would not heal as fast as a strong one. Snape slipped the vials carefully into his cloak pocket and then went upstairs to make Potter and himself something decent to eat.

***

Harry took a step, and it ended up being more of a hop, because his hurt leg did not want to bear his weight. Okay, Harry thought. I can do this. I’m a young wizard and an athlete. Hopping across the room should be simple.

He hopped for several feet. Just long enough to get far enough away from the bed that he would not be able to turn back to it easily. Harry could feel his good leg getting a bit shaky, and he could feel sweat of exertion starting to form on his brow. His breaths were coming a bit faster now. This was wearing him down quickly. He decided to just go for it. He could probably make it in a few more hops, at least that’s what he told himself.

He’d made it almost halfway to the toilet when a spasm coursed through his good leg. His muscles were cramping. Without thinking Harry let down his other foot to ease the burden on his good leg so that his muscles would relax. If he had been standing on hot coals, he would not have noticed. The sharp bolt of pain that shot up through his leg was enough to force him to falter. Harry tried to recover his balance, but his good leg was still clenched in a spasm and his other was in no shape to bear weight. He fell to the floor in a heap, clutching to the wounded leg and crying out sharply in pain. He hadn’t even noticed that his toes of his good leg had curled toward the ball of his foot as the cramp held his muscles in a firm grip.

Even when he felt the spasm ease there was little relief from the pain that he sensed. His injured knee was burning with the fresh, raw heat of agony. He hadn’t made it to the toilet yet either. Bitterly Harry thought that he should have stayed in his bed, at least then his leg wouldn’t be hurting him like it was. This had been a stupid idea. He released his leg as he felt a sharp sting of insistence from his bladder. If he didn’t make it to the toilet in the next few moments all his suffering would have been for nothing.

Harry thought about crawling along the floor. Squirming along on his stomach, while trying to only use his arms was too difficult. As he dragged his body, it sent flickers of searing pain into his hurt knee, and the pressure from lying on his belly made the task of making it to the toilet that much more urgent.

Harry clenched his eyes closed and stilled. He could hold it. He dug his fingertips into the carpet and tried not to think about anything. He took deep breaths in an attempt to calm his body. He could tell that he was fighting a losing battle, and that eventually he would have to let go.

What would Snape think when he saw him like this on the floor? Harry pulled his hands into fists as the urgency consumed him. There was too much at once. With a sharp sob Harry felt his control slip from him in a warm rush of fluid. He clenched his fingers in the carpet once again; it would not do him any good to stop halfway through the process, so he didn’t bother trying. It puddled around him, warm and foul smelling. As the liquid quickly cooled around him, Harry shivered as he cried both from shame and pain. He’d wet himself for goodness sakes!

Harry could just imagine what Snape’s face would look like when he entered the room. He’d probably want Harry to explain why he couldn’t even do a simple thing like relieving himself properly. Snape would probably wonder why he’d bothered to take Harry from his relatives, and maybe think on giving him back to them. The longer Harry lay there in that cooling puddle of urine the more hopeless things seemed to become. He buried his nose in a clean part of the carpet by his head and covered his head with his hands, interlocking his fingers.

He wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed, but most of the wetness had been absorbed by Snape’s lovely carpet. The smell as faint as it was, pierced through Harry’s nostrils as though he’d never smelled anything worse in his life. The carpet would probably be ruined, once that stuff had sat awhile there would be no way to get rid of it short of brand new carpeting. Snape would love that. His clothes were still quite wet. Both his pant legs and the lower part of his shirt that covered his stomach had absorbed a lot of the liquid, and as embarrassing as it was it was making him feel very cold. Harry lay there and shivered. Part of him wanted Snape to come into the room. At least then he’d have a chance at getting some help. How things stood at the present moment there was no way that Harry would be able to clean himself up. The other part of him wanted to seep into the carpet.

**

Snape had finished making a proper meal for the boy. He’d made Harry some porridge and even added a bit of cream and sugar to it to make it more appealing. He’d brought both milk and tea for Harry to choose from. If Harry felt up to it perhaps he’d even offer him some fresh fruit later, something like apples or strawberries. Snape stood at the door with the tray of warm food and thought briefly about knocking, but didn’t bother. After all this was his house.

As Snape entered the room, the candle that sat on the night stand near the boy’s bed lit with a silent incantation. Even if he hadn’t noticed Potter lying on the floor, the whimper that followed the lighting of the candle would have been enough to draw Snape’s attention. What in blazes was the boy doing out of bed anyway? He certainly wasn’t in any shape for wandering about, not even for short distances yet.

Snape set his jaw in irritation as he moved to set the tray of food on the night stand next to the lit candle and Harry’s glasses. He knelt next to the boy’s side, and felt something wet beneath his knee. Curiously Snape reached out with his hand and touched his fingers to the damp carpet. He raised his hand and sniffed it. Things suddenly made sense to him now. The boy hadn’t been getting up to play around like an idiot; Snape noted that he hadn’t even bothered putting on his glasses something he was sure that Potter didn’t forget often.

In a gentle motion Snape settled himself very close to Harry and proceeded to roll the boy onto his back so that he could lean Harry’s weight against him. True the boy was soaking in a rather unsavory liquid, but Snape couldn’t hold that against him as it was hardly the young wizard’s fault. After all Snape had supposed to have been caring for the boy, and a simple thing like a bedpan would have prevented all this needless suffering. Snape wondered why he hadn’t thought of that sooner, since he knew that Harry couldn’t possibly take care of his needs on his own.

Harry cried out loudly as Snape moved him. Snape was being careful, but that didn’t stop his injured leg from sending fresh stabs of pain through his whole body as it was jarred from its previous spot. Snape reached into his robe with one hand for the potion to help ease Harry’s pain. He cradled the boy to him with his other arm.

He unstopped the vial and held it to Harry’s lips. Harry’s hands were shaking at his sides, and his face was an unhealthy shade of white; Snape hoped that the boy would improve once his pain began to recede. As patiently as he could, Snape coaxed the boy into taking the potion. “Here Potter, once more,” Snape said offering the calming potion after Harry had accepted the one to dampen his pain.

Willingly Harry drank. Snape was sure that the boy knew what was being fed to him; he’d certainly spent more than a fair amount of time in hospital at Hogwarts to learn the tastes of many of the different healing potions. “Good,” Snape whispered encouragingly. Now all there was to do was to wait until the drugs took effect. Snape had a feeling that Potter would not like what Snape had in store for him, so it would be wise to have the young man as relaxed as possible to reduce the amount of resistance he would be able to put up.

Harry sighed loudly with relief as he felt the agony swirling within him start to fade into the background. He felt a bit on the bleary side, but attributed that to the lack of his glasses and to the amount of pain he had been suffering through. He wasn’t sure why Snape gave him both a calming potion and a potion for pain, but at the moment he found that he didn’t care. He felt safe held against Snape’s warm form, safer than he’d felt in a long while.

When Snape shifted Harry’s weight, Harry had no desire to be moved. He was comfortable just where he was, thank you very much. He made a noise that was akin to a child’s whine, since his tongue seemed too lazy in his mouth to make a proper protest. Snape frowned, thinking that he was causing Harry pain, and placed a hand over Harry’s forehead to smooth away the strands of hair that had gathered in the boy’s sweat.

Snape allowed Harry to rest against him for a few more moments. Best to allow the potions more time to do their work. When he felt the boy relax a little more, Snape decided that it was time to get on with things. If he allowed the boy to stay in his wet clothes much longer there was a chance that he could catch a cold. He moved Harry’s nearly limp body into a more upright position and began to work at the buttons on the boy’s shirt with his agile fingers. Harry made a murmur of protest as Snape pulled his right arm out of the shirt sleeve. Snape shushed him, whispering to the boy that he would only get worse if he stayed in the wet clothing.

**

Harry shuddered as his bare torso gathered into gooseflesh. His room was so cold! Harry was tired, and he wanted to sleep, but he could never be comfortable as cool as it was. He whimpered in protest as he felt icy air hit his lower abdomen and the damp parts of his thighs. Snape was murmuring something to him, and he wanted to listen to the voice, to let it lull him, but as his teeth started to chatter he could no longer hear what was being said. Harry felt himself being gently settled on a dry part of the carpet, and seconds later the welcome warmth of Snape’s body was suddenly gone. Harry’s weary body curled in on itself as he tried to stay warm. Vaguely he realized that he was wearing nothing but his wet underwear and the bandage over his sore knee. This didn’t seem to trouble him as much as he thought it should. Ah well, he could worry about it later.

Something thick wrapped around him, and the chill biting at his skin began to melt away. This was so much more pleasant than being cold. Harry heard some sounds coming from a place that wasn’t too far off, but he was too dulled by the potions to recognize what he heard. Whatever the sound was, it wasn’t going away yet, but it didn’t bother Harry at all. He heard the sound of his bedroom door open and close and a few minutes later it opened again. The persistent sound that Harry had heard had suddenly stopped.

Harry felt part of the warm comforter wrapped around him move. There was something going on with his hurt knee for several moments, and then the chilly air hit for a few seconds before his blanket was replaced. Maybe Snape had removed the bandages for some reason, Harry finally reasoned. He felt his body being picked up in the thick cocoon that the comforter made. He’d expected the movement to have pain accompany it, but curiously he felt no discomfort. He was carried somewhere that was a short distance away, and had he been sharper he would have realized that he was in the bathroom next to his bedroom.

When Harry felt the warmth of his comforter being pulled away from him, he whined unhappily. He didn’t want to be cold again. He wanted to be left alone wrapped up tightly in the warm blanket so that he could just sleep for a long while. When the blanket was finally peeled away, Harry weakly clutched onto something else. Snape’s robes. He could feel his body being lowered, and he had the presence of mind to try and cringe away, but it was of little use. There was something holding his head, cradling him. His sluggish brain told him that he was in water, warm water that smelled faintly of lavender. A bit of warm water lapped at Harry’s ear and a tremor of fright that even the calming potion couldn’t stifle, passed through him. What if the thing cradling him let him drop? Would the water be so deep that he’d drown in it? Even in his drowsy state Harry realized that he didn’t have the strength to get himself out of this without help.

After a few minutes the pleasant feel and scent of the warm water, and the sound of a gentle voice calmed the remaining fear that Harry had let loose in his mind. He let his eyes slip closed, and within a short time he’d drifted off.

When he woke, he felt relaxed. Harry opened his eyes and realized that his clothing had changed. He was no longer wearing his shirt and half-legged trousers, in their place he was wearing a dark grey flannel night shirt that was long enough to hit him just past his knees, and from the feel of it that was all that he was wearing. He reached under his comforter and felt the side of his hip with his hand. Nope . . . no underwear. That meant . . . oh Merlin Harry felt his face heat very quickly.

He pushed the thought away from him quickly. He was being rather stupid about all this. Of course they weren’t there anymore. It would not have been pleasant to wake to the same wet underwear he’d had on earlier. Harry was grateful that he couldn’t remember much about Snape caring for him after being fed the potions. There were some things that were better being out of mind.

Harry reached for his glasses, and as he slipped them on, he realized that he was not alone in the room. Snape was sitting in a chair a few feet away from him, with a cup of dark tea in his pale hand. Snape set the teacup gently on the saucer and then set it down on the floor next to his chair. The man crossed to Harry in a fluid motion.

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?” Snape asked gently reaching out to palm Harry’s forehead. “Are you in pain?”

Harry shook his head. He actually felt quite good for a change, but perhaps the painkiller that Snape had given him still hadn’t fully worn off.

“Do you need anything?” Harry saw Snape’s face change, and for a moment the man almost looked truly concerned.

Harry shook his head.

“I’ve brought you some food. It’s still quite warm, and it will do you good to eat something.”

Snape reached over to the night stand for the porridge in the charmed bowl. Harry accepted it and carefully settled the bowl on his lap. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he caught the scent of the food. He ate almost as though he was in danger of being late for Quidditch practice. When he’d finished with the bowl only a small amount of the cereal remained. Snape offered him the tea, because he’d drank the milk himself while Harry was asleep.

Harry was forced to sip the tea slowly, because it was too hot to drink it quickly. When he’d finished Snape set the empty dishes back on the tray.

“Better now?”

“Yes, thank you Sir,” Harry answered.

Snape nodded. “I have something I wish to speak to you about, Potter.”

Harry swallowed loudly. Maybe Snape was upset about the mess on the carpet. “I’m sorry.”

Snape raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t mean to ruin your beautiful carpet. Honestly, I thought I could make it to the toilet in time, but,” Harry stopped talking when Snape looked away from him.

“Don’t fret over the carpet, Potter. It does not matter. That is not the issue I wish to speak to you about,” Snape said as he took a seat on Harry’s bedside.

“Oh,” Harry felt his mouth go dry. There was something worse than the carpet? Harry cycled through everything he had said and done to Snape, but he couldn’t think of anything that could take the place of that.

“You do not have to answer right away. In fact you may have as much time as you require.” Snape paused, but not for breath, it was as though he was searching for the right way to put things. “I shall be blunt so that my meaning is quite clear to you. I do not wish to see you go back to your family. However, it has been brought to my attention that you need a proper guardian. I believe that if you are sent back to your relatives it will only cause you further misery.”

Harry felt his jaw go slack. Snape didn’t want to send him back! “But if I don’t go back to the Dursleys then who will I stay with, Sir?”

Snape gave Harry a hard stare for a few seconds. “That is the matter that I wished to ask you about, Mr. Potter.”

Harry stared up at Snape, the boy’s face was filled with complete surprise. This had to be a potion-induced dream, because there was no way that Snape would offer him this . . . right? “All I ask is that you think on it, Potter, and please don’t hesitate to call should you need anything. I will be in the next room, and will hear if you call out.”

Harry nodded dumbly and watched as Snape gracefully swept out of the room. Once he was sure that Snape was gone he gave himself a hard pinch on the arm just to be sure that he wasn’t dreaming.