Disclaimer: Once again, for all those who have been somewhere other than planet Earth, all of these wonderful characters that I mould for my own use belong to JK Rowling. And I thank her.

To the anonymous reviewer who does not like the H/G pairing: I'm sorry that this aspect of the story displeases you, but as to your preference of H/D: All I can say is "yuck!. I dislike that pairing intensely! I have read a few slash stories and admit that some of them have been quite good. But I don't read H/D because I think it is so off. And I LOVE the H/G pairing in canon.

And hey, it's my story.

So, on with the show…

Last: Harry nodded. 'Yeah. Something.' he said in a clipped voice. 'Is my system free of all the poison?'

Chapter 10

Severus' black eyes bore into Harry's overly bright, green ones. Oh, Lily. Why are they so much like yours. It hurts to look into them. The boy looked feverish. Without conscious volition, he extended a hand and placed the back of it against the dry, too warm skin of Harry's forehead.

Harry jerked his head back out of reach and Severus raised a mocking eyebrow. Harry glanced down at the light weight blanket that he was plucking at. That seemed to be a bad habit he had picked up. He felt slightly ashamed of himself. Snape was the man who had saved him, after all, and he had obviously only been feeling his temperature.

Wasn't that a gesture frequently used by worried mothers? Hadn't McGonagall done that to him just recently? And Snape was a healer, so it was also his job to check things like temperatures.

And having reasoned that out and knowing he had acted like a petulant little kid, Harry sat quiescent when Snape (probably in an attempt to goad him further) took hold of his wrist and felt for his pulse. Harry could hear his heart in his ears, bounding along at a much faster rate than normal. But hey, that was probably because Snape was so close. The man was far too intimidating.

Severus kept a hold of Harry's wrist for an inordinately long time. He'd teach the little twerp to flinch away when he was trying to determine whether he had a fever or not. As if he would want to touch him otherwise.

Harry licked lips that had gone suddenly dry. For Merlin's sake, when would he be done, already. And the git still hadn't answered his question. Didn't he have a right to know? He was sick of being kept in the bloody dark. So, ask again, Harry. Are you a Gryffindor, or aren't you?

'Professor Snape. What did the potion show? Am I clear of poison?

Slowly, Severus eased his hold on the bony wrist. Enough was enough, he supposed. He could feel Dumbledore's blue eyes boring into the side of his head and knew he was thinking; 'grow up, Severus. You are the adult in this equation.'

Severus forced himself to look into those green eyes again. 'Yes, Mr Potter. All traces of the poison are gone.'

Harry drooped with relief. He hadn't realised that he had been holding himself so stiffly.

'That's wonderful news Harry,' said Remus, patting Harry's foot through the covers. The rest of the crowd were expressing similar sentiments and Ginny had darted to the other side of the bed, away from Snape and—with the memory of today's disaster firmly in mind—hugged Harry gently and kissed him on the cheek. Harry would have liked more but the presence of his happy friends and his glowering potions professor put paid to the impulse to grab Ginny and kiss her on the lips. He grasped her hand instead.

'So, I'm OK, then.'

'You are far from OK,' snapped Snape. 'And I would have thought that after today's happenings, even you, Potter, with your enormous capacity for self delusion might have been able to work that out.'

Harry and Ginny both glowered at him darkly. The rest of the crowd were none too pleased either and Severus revelled in his ability to put everyone off side. After the last couple of hours when he had felt far from in control, it felt good to get things back on a normal footing. It was a matter of complete indifference to him that no-one but Albus and Minerva were completely comfortable in his presence.

'I refuse to discuss your health problems with all and sundry, Potter…'

'Why not?' interrupted Harry, his voice rising with frustration. 'I don't care if they know. They're worried about me. They're my family.'

Harry reddened after this pronouncement but the fact that Ginny had hugged and kissed him again, and Mrs Weasley had a teary smile on her face and was nodding happily, indicated that in their opinions he had not overstepped the mark.

He had always considered Ron and Hermione to be the brother and sister he had never had, of course. And Remus, as the last of the "Marauders" now, was the uncle he wished he had grown up with, instead of the one he had grown up with. And Professor Dumbledore—Harry felt the twinkling, bright blue eyes resting on him—well, he was the grandfather he had never had.

Everyone was smiling at him; except Snape of course. He just glowered with undiminished ferocity. Despite this blight on the landscape, Harry felt a wonderful sense of acceptance and belonging.

Having established that all those present considered him, in one way or another, to be part of their family, Harry raised his defiant face to Snape. The happy feeling that surrounded his heart gave that abused organ a tight squeeze before it seemed to flee his chest cavity in fear. The look on the potion master's face was terrible in its anger. It was just as bad as the anger he had encountered from the man when he had tried—unsuccessfully—to teach Harry "occlumency" and Harry had thanked him by invading his most private thoughts. He wanted to cover his head with the blanket.

But Harry was not sure what he had said to elicit this reaction—why should it matter to Snape that he considered these people to be his family? The Dursley's had never been any kind of family, after all. Didn't everyone have the right to a family that they could take comfort from?

Harry blinked to try and bring the hawk-like features into focus as Snape thrust his face to within inches of his and whispered, 'These people are not your family.' The hiss was malevolent.

After a couple of seconds of stunned silence, during which Harry and Snape remained nose to nose, Harry's Gryffindor bravery rushed to the fore and he found himself—despite Ginny's frantic tug on his arm—stretching his neck to bring his defiant face even closer to his hated teachers ugly visage. Their two noses actually bumped.

That shows what you know, you Slytherin sh…' A firm hand descending on his shoulder cut Harry's diatribe off before he could finish his most unwise epithet.

Dumbledore had inserted himself between the two black haired wizards. There was no twinkle in those penetrating eyes but his voice was placatory rather than condemnatory as he addressed the two combatants. Harry had thumped back against his pillow, discretion overpowering valour when it became obvious—despite the headmasters benign presence—that Snape was far from placated. In fact he was nothing short of incensed.

'I must concur with Professor Snape at this time, I am afraid.' Dumbledore smiled at the subdued crowd with determined cheer. 'Harry's best hope of a speedy recovery is peace and relaxation.'

He rubbed his hands together. 'And so to that end, Professor Snape and I will adjourn so you can say your farewells to Harry. I am sure it will not be too long before you will all see each other again. Perhaps at "the Burrow" for Harry's birthday, if all goes well, and Professor Snape thinks he is recovered enough.' He put a hand under Severus' elbow and with implacable force, he guided the still furious wizard towards the matron's office

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Everyone watched the two men leave, then Ron swung back to look at Harry, his ears glowing with the anger he felt on his friends behalf. Hermione had taken Dumbledore's place and had placed her hand on Harry's shoulder. Those at the foot of the bed moved closer.

'Where was that greasy git going to take you?' Ron asked, his voice high with indignant anger.

'Ron!' scolded Mrs Weasley. 'That is enough of that sort of talk.'

Ron ignored his mother and continued to press Harry. 'Why wouldn't you be staying here? This is the hospital wing.'

'Leave him alone, Ron,' snapped Ginny. 'He wasn't going anywhere, were you, Harry?'

'Yeah, he was,' continued Ron doggedly. 'Snape said, "come along, Potter." He couldn't wait to get you away from us. It's almost like he thinks he owns you.'

'You're being a prat.'

But everyone was staring at him. Harry felt beleaguered. He was hoping that he would not have to divulge where he had been staying.

'Harry?' prompted Hermione, but in a much less confrontational tone than Ron's.

'I've been down in Snape's rooms. In the dungeon.'

'What!' squawked Ron, Fred and George together. Ron couldn't have looked more appalled if Harry had told him that Snape had been keeping him prisoner in the "Chamber of Secrets".

"It's no biggy, Ron. I only woke up yesterday morning, so I didn't even know for most of the time.'

'But why weren't you up here? This is the hospital wing.'

'Yeah, I am aware of that, thanks. But Madam Pomfrey is away. Snape has been looking after me. He needed to be near his lab and I needed to be near him. He practically worked on me non-stop for the first few days apparently.' Harry was getting more and more annoyed. Ron was being deliberately obtuse.

'You've been alone with that greasy git since the day school ended?'

Mrs Weasley's second admonition to her youngest son was drowned out by Harry's angry outburst. 'You just don't get it, do you? He saved my life, Ron!' He had wrenched away from Ginny and was now sitting on the side of the bed, leaning towards Ron much as he had leaned towards Snape a minute or so earlier. And truth to tell, he felt just as angry now as he had been then.

More. Ron was his mate. He was supposed to understand. Snape was a snarky git, so Harry expected to fight with him.

Remus decided it was time to step in. He eased a clearly, still revolted Ron aside and grasped Harry's shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. 'As our time is almost up, we'd all best be off, Harry.'

Harry relaxed as Remus' gentle voice replaced Ron's indignant one. Impulsively, he leaned forward and quickly hugged the man who had taught him how to produce a Patronus—the stag that always made him feel as though his father was never too far away. Harry had let go before Remus had the presence of mind to hug him back.

'Thanks Remus. It's been great to see you.'

'Take care, Harry. We will see you soon."

'Keep on truckin', Harry.' Tonks gave him a kiss on the cheek before she and Remus left the hospital wing. The only person present besides Harry who did not look confused at Tonks' words, was Hermione.

Molly kissed and hugged Harry and chivvied the twins to say goodbye. They both "high fived" Harry in a ridiculously exaggerated fashion and as usual, they made him laugh with their antics. Nothing as banal as a simple goodbye for Gred and Forge Weasley.

'Just get your ass into gear, Harry,' ordered George and his voice lowered so his mother could not hear. 'We've got heaps of products that we need to show you.'

'Yeah, mate. Just wait until you see the shop,' added Fred in an equally quiet voice. They began to swagger towards the doors but they had only advanced few yards when Fred turned back. "Oh, yeah. Almost forgot. Lee, Alicia, and Angelina say, "hi".' And seeing the smile on Harry's face slip a little, he added, 'Don't worry, young Harry. We told them that the Dursleys were giving you a hard time and that the Weasley's decided to visit en masse just to really piss them off.'

'Fred!' Mrs Weasley did hear that and he grimaced horribly, making Harry laugh again, before trotting after his mother and brother.

Hermione—treating Harry as though he were made of spun glass after Snape's earlier admonitions and Hagrid's unfortunate fax pas—wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. 'Just get better, OK. I don't care where you're recuperating, just do it quickly.' She straightened and stepped back, her arms crossed and her eyes boring into Ron, daring him to put his size twelves in his gaping maw again.

This intimidating sight combined with Ginny's death glare made Ron cringe. When would he ever learn to think before he opened his big mouth. He knew that Hermione thought that thinking was not his big thing. But he could think, of course he could. It was just that his temper was much closer to the surface, and any thoughts pertaining to a controversial subject were blocked before they were fully formed, by a fiery wall of anger.

Twice today, he had upset Harry. And that had not been his intent. Harry was his best mate and he knew that they were all lucky that he was still around. On a deeper level, he even knew that the slimy git had saved Harry; he had heard his mum and dad talking about it. Something about him being a healer. How come that wasn't common knowledge?

Hermione's exasperated, 'Ron, haven't you got something to say to Harry?' made him look up. He had his hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his old, worn jeans and had been looking down at his trainers to try and avoid Ginny's death glare. Harry was plucking at the blanket again, his gaze riveted on his hand. He had been doing that a lot since he had been levitated into the bed.

Ron took a deep breath. 'Harry, I'm sorry mate. I didn't mean to get all confrontational.' Harry looked up, his face shuttered.

'I know you had no say in the matter of Snape looking after you…'

'Saving my life, Ron,' corrected Harry.

'Yeah. That's what I meant. He saved your life, And thank Merlin he did.' He tried to produce a disarming grin. Ron leaned closer and lowered his voice. 'You can't help having stayed in his rooms.'

Harry raised an eyebrow which clearly said, 'you think?'

Ron went very still. Merlin, when Harry did that one eyebrow thing, he swore he looked just like Snape. Just for a fleeting second. But that was scary. Harry had been around the greasy git for far too long, obviously. A very mobile left eyebrow was one of Snape's signature gestures. He shook his head slightly to get the vision out of his head.

'Yeah, well. I apologise—again,' he said in a subdued voice. 'I didn't mean to lose it. It was a shock, you know?'

'Well, just imagine my delight when I was told where I was. It was much more than a shock, I can tell you.'

"Yeah, it would have been a total bummer,'

'Eloquent, as always,' mumbled Hermione and Ginny giggled. Ron ignored them and he leaned in closer still to Harry, intent on conferring another stunning utterance. His mouth opened but he shut it with a snap when his mother appeared once again in the doorway, her face annoyed and her arms akimbo.

'Ron, Ginny, Hermione! Come along. Professor McGonagall has interrupted her busy schedule to take us up to the headmaster's office to use the floo. Now, get a move on, do!'

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm and started to drag him away but Ron was determined to have his final say. He held onto one of the bars of the bed head and used it as a counter to Hermione's tugging.

'What's it like down there?' Hermione yanked hard and broke Ron's grip. He dug his heels in and Harry was amazed at the strength Hermione was exhibiting. She was clearly determined not to antagonise Mrs Weasley further.

'Is it like a cave? Dark and dank and the floors covered in guano?' Hermione jerked harder and Ron raised his voice as his feet dragged across the floor. 'Are there bats hanging from the ceiling?'

Harry rolled his eyes. He grabbed a pillow and threw it after a grinning, retreating Ron. 'Idiot.'

A small hand cupped Harry's cheek and his head was pulled around. Ginny extended her bottom lip in a mock pout. 'Would you rather ponder the eccentricities of my prat of a brother or do you want to kiss me goodbye?'

Harry pretended to ponder. 'Hmm. Decisions, decisions.'

Ginny smacked his arm and Harry grinned. He put his hand behind her head and pulled her down. The kiss was wonderful. Her lips were warm and soft and slightly moist and they opened shyly as Harry increased the pressure of his mouth on hers. It felt so natural to explore that small breach with his tongue. There was a smooth, slightly sweet coating on her lips that made him want to devour them.

He angled his head to increase the pressure more and Ginny shifted to accommodate him. Harry was dizzy with the smell of her hair. It was coming down from its clip at the back and the long, soft, fragrant tresses framed their two faces.

Ginny's hand was in Harry's hair and she held him in case he wanted to escape when she touched her tongue to his. An electric current sizzled all the way to Harry's toes, making them curl. No way did he want to escape.

They forgot where they were; forgot who was waiting for them to finish saying goodbye. A wolf whistle from over near the doors had them breaking apart guiltily, their faces matching shades of magenta. A grinning Fred or George was disappearing back out the door. Harry was grateful that a wolf whistle was the worst of it. He expected Mrs Weasley to storm in to drag her daughter away by the scruff of the neck. It didn't happen but some serious muttering reached them from beyond the door. They didn't have much time. Harry leaned his forehead against Ginny's.

'Well, that's that,' she breathed, her voice slightly bitter.

'For now,' promised Harry.

Ginny conjured a slightly tremulous smile. 'We probably won't see each other for weeks.'

'Ron'll be relieved.'

Ginny snorted, but it was more of a little huff—a feminine snort.

'Write to me. Use Hedwig. She could use the exercise and I'll be glad to see her. I miss her.'

Ginny pulled back from Harry and her mouth was a perfect "o". Harry raised his eyebrows in question.

'I forgot to tell you. Hedwig is here. I think she's been here since the day after we got home.'

'How do you know?'

'I let her out for some exercise and to do some hunting. But she never came back. I was so worried, and then after Mum and Dad told us what had happened to you, I had a feeling she might have come back here.

'She'd been so noisy and restless all the time on the train and at the Burrow. Right up until I let her out, which I was reluctant to do because she was so out of sorts. I think she sensed that you were in danger.

'As soon as I got here, I went to check to see if she was in the owlery. That's where I was when you got to the Great Hall.

'She still seems a bit out of sorts. She wouldn't come to me. I suppose she's still upset that she hasn't seen you, even though she knows you're here.'

Harry felt terrible. Hedwig had been here for days and he hadn't known. He knew she pined if she didn't see him. He always made a point of visiting her in the owlery during term as he didn't have that many jobs for her to do. He never wrote home, after all.

'I'll ask Snape if I can go and see her.'

This time when footsteps sounded, Harry knew without looking that it was Mrs Weasley.

'Ginny! Come along.' The Weasley matriarch's voice was tight with irritation. She was obviously making a huge effort to restrain herself for Harry's benefit.

Ginny threw her mother a disgruntled look. She stood up far too slowly, still holding onto Harry's hand but the dam finally broke.

'NOW, young lady!' She glared daggers at her daughter. Harry thought that was a bit unfair. He was as much to blame for the delay. He kissed the back of his girlfriends hand and released it.

'See you soon.'

The corner of her mouth quirked in a half smile and she kept her eyes on him as she joined her mother. When Mrs Weasley had a firm hold of Ginny's arm, she smiled at Harry and said, 'We'll see you soon, Harry dear.' And she dragged Ginny out of sight.

Harry sighed and flopped back with his eyes closed. It had been so good to see everyone but he couldn't deny that he was exhausted. He could have happily rested with Ginny in his arms, though. God knew when he would see her again; see them all again.

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Severus strode into his bedroom—the bedroom he had been unable to sleep in for a week now. And childish as it sounded, he missed his own bed. He did not have many luxuries in his life, but his bed was one of those.

He had found the large, sturdy timber framed bed in a muggle antique shop in Manchester, many years previously. After his father's death, he had taken up residence in the small, shabby house at Spinners End. He had purged the place magically of all traces of his sire but had at that time, maintained the use of his tiny bedroom.

That is, until he had seen the bed through the dusty window of the antique shop. It was not one of those antiques shops where one could wander at ones leisure amongst the beautifully preserved, aged pieces of furniture and admire the bric-a-brac as it shone or sparkled on beautifully crafted timber surfaces of handsome sideboards or tables.

No, this shop, ostensibly housing antiques, was nothing more than a junk shop. The bed had been in a sorry state of disrepair but Severus had immediately seen the potential of its thick oaken head and base, both of which were carved with a glorious profusion of nymphs and dryads and fairies flying and capering amongst a bountiful crop of grape vines and olive groves. The thick, elephantine legs were also carved with descending spirals of grape vines. Severus could tell that the bed had been made by wizards as no muggle woodsmith would have been able to imbue the creatures with such obvious signs of their magical origins. These were not the fairy tale replicas that muggles had been rendering for centuries. These were the real deal.

He had purchased the bed and told the shop owner that he would return with a suitable means to transport it away. Delivery was not part of the service. Severus had returned, but in the dead of night and he had shrunk the bed to the size of a replica for a doll house and taken it home. He set it up in the front room where he had spent a satisfying few weeks restoring it to its former glory. He had then shrunk it again to take upstairs, but as the real proportions of the bed were too large for it to fit in his tiny room, he had had to bury his distaste and set it up in his parents old room; and even that had been a close run thing. There was not even room for a chest of drawers, so he had blasted a hole in the wall adjoining his old bedroom and fashioned a door to make it easier for him to get at his belongings.

He had purchased a mattress and magically enhanced it to suit his needs and ever since, he had been happily making use of his most prized piece of furniture. And after starting work at Hogwarts, he had brought his bed along (the only item of furniture he had brought from Spinners End) as he now spent the greater proportion of his time within the castle's magical walls. And truth to tell, his bed was much more suited to its new home than it had ever been to the mean, muggle dwelling that he rarely visited any more. It was almost as if it had recognised its surroundings as being magical and had become a part of the castle. Severus knew that if he ever tried to take the bed away from Hogwarts, he would have a battle on his hands. He felt that his bed recognised the castle as its owner, and not the man who had lovingly restored it to its former, magical glory.

Severus glared at the small figure curled up right on the edge of his bed. He huffed a silent, derisive snort. The decadent proportions of the bed were entirely wasted on the young Gryffindor Philistine. Severus doubted the boy had even taken note of the opulence that surrounded him.

His expression became thoughtful as his eyes lingered on the small figure. Perhaps he was being unfair. Potter had not had much opportunity to study his surroundings in more than a cursory way, he supposed. Plus, he was a teenage boy. A teenage boy who was more interested in the outdoors and those activities that were performed out of doors. Quidditch, for example. And even with his "Potter" and "Gryffindor" prejudices, even Severus could not deny that the boy was a superb seeker.

Draco was the second best seeker within the four houses, and despite his blusterings and excuses as to why Potter had beaten him to the snitch every time they had played against each other, the truth was plain to see. Harry Potter was far and away above Draco's standard on a broom. And this fact, rankled mightily with the pure blood Malfoy heir. It was practically unheard of for a muggle raised wizard to take to the air as readily as Potter had done. And though not muggle-born, a half-blood should still not be able to fly as well as a pure blood, in Draco's opinion. Potter had been born to ride a broom.

Severus knew that if the boy could ever become an animagus like his father…like James, his form would definitely be avian. And though the animagus transformation was not a skill he himself had mastered, if the boy ever felt the overwhelming desire to do so—and Severus knew that the desire had to be an obsession—then he would almost definitely be able to do so. Particularly in light of the burst of raw magic he had released several days earlier.

Severus had never had the requisite obsession; he had not had the obsessive need Potter, Black and Pettigrew had had; to keep their werewolf friend company during his transformations. And the fact that Pettigrew had ever managed to transform was a wonder that never ceased to amaze Severus.

The subject was referenced in 7th year transfiguration classes but only as an interesting aside. The Animagus transformation could not be taught. You could either do it, or you could not. Oh, there were a few very ancient tomes that included chapters on the subject. They had been written by past animagi—basically a step by step guide as to how they had managed the feat. But you could read those references until the thestrals came home but without the obsession and innate ability, you would not be able to transform.

Albus had been trying to get Minerva to write another reference, but so far, she had not succumbed to his persuasions.

A movement in the bed brought a stop to Severus' ruminations. As he watched Potter uncurl from the ridiculously tight ball he slept in (perhaps he was wrong, perhaps Potter's animagus form would be feline) he marvelled at the amount of introspection he had indulged in over the last eighteen or so hours. Since those fateful minutes that had finally revealed that he was a father.

This underweight, supremely determined, idiotically brave and insufferably annoying child was his son. And he had still not decided when, nor even if he would break the news to the boy.

Albus had been full of bright ideas. Take it slowly, he had said. Try to address him by his given name. "Potter" or "idiot Gryffindor' or "boy" should no longer be the way you think of Harry. It will be a start.

But Severus just knew that the habits of what felt like a lifetime would be almost impossible to break.

Do not look for James. Look for Lily within those eyes, he had also said. And now that those eyes were staring at him blearily ( how could those beautiful green orbs look so much like Lily's in size and shape and colour and yet the boy…Harry had James' appalling eyesight) he could indeed see Lily in there emerald depths. Thank the Gods he had missed out on the poor eyesight trait. His Potter grandfather had also worn glasses but Severus' mother's vision had been perfect, as was his.

Severus took up his usual, cross-armed stance as Harry scrambled to sit up and fumble for his glasses. The boy…Harry grimaced slightly as his hurried change of position caused a flash of pain. But all in all he looked much less pale and slightly more robust this morning.

Harry looked a tad put out to have awoken to find his hated potions professor watching him. And sure enough his first words confirmed what Severus could see so plainly in his expression.

'How long have you been standing there?' Severus raised that clever, mobile, eyebrow and it was enough to make Harry redden. 'Sir.' He added, though not as contritely as Severus would have liked.

'I had been here but a moment before you began to stir, Mr Potter, he lied.' There you go, Albus—a step forward, surely. "Harry" refuses to roll off the tongue at this point in time, but I have at least accorded the boy a title. He is however, still a cheeky little snot. Just like his other father.

'What time is it…Sir?'

'Nine-thirty. How are you feeling?'

Harry pushed the covers back and eased himself from the bed tentatively, letting out a sigh when it appeared that his body did not protest too much. 'Not bad,' he answered. 'A bit tender, but I'll live, I think.'

'I'm thrilled to hear it. I would hate for all those man hours taken up with your care to have been wasted.' Severus thought he might have heard a little huff of amusement and seen a slight quirk to the boy's lips but he could not be sure as Harry had averted his head as he crossed the room with careful steps.

'I would like you to shower and get dressed while I order your breakfast. I have work to do today and I want to ensure that you are gainfully employed before I leave you to your own devices.'

'Sir?'

Severus rolled his eyes in exasperation. 'I refuse to leave you idle, Mr Potter, as unfilled hours will give you more time to get up to some form of mischief or other.'

Harry shot him a darkling glare over his shoulder from where he was bent over is trunk to retrieve some clothes. 'Pity you didn't think to leave me some of my old clothes then if I'm going to be set to scrubbing filthy cauldrons or eviscerating frogs or expressing mucous from flobberworms.'

'Your gainful employment will not require quite such a large expenditure of physical energy, Mr Potter,' answered Severus as he reached the door to the sitting room. 'You will be making significant inroads into your summer homework…' and when Harry automatically opened his mouth to protest, Severus added in an implacable voice, '…and I will be checking the whole to make sure you have not been wasting time.'

Snape left before Harry could voice his objections, his robes billowing in the usual way. As he stood under the soothing, warm water, Harry tried to think of as many derogatory adjectives as he could to apply to Snape and his final uncharitable thought was that the man must have spelled his robes to move in such a flamboyant and intimidating way.

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When Harry sat down at the table, Snape was there, his chair set sideways to the table, one of his legs crossed elegantly over the other, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the Daily Prophet. There was no sign he had eaten any breakfast.

Harry was not thrilled to see that his breakfast was once again porridge. But today, there was a jug of cream instead of milk and there was no toast. He was even less pleased to see three phials of potion lined up next to the bowl.

'I would like you to take those potions before you eat,' said Snape without looking up from the paper. Harry scowled but did as he was told, grimacing horribly at the combination of foul tastes.

As he added honey and cream to the bowl, he groused, 'I thought you were intent on fattening me up. There's not enough here to fill me up. I can't even have seconds.' Today, his full bowl, complete with warming charm had been set at his place at the table; there was no tureen for him to serve himself from.

'Believe me, Po…Mr Potter, what you have there will probably be too much for you to be able to eat.'

Harry looked at him incredulously. 'I had more than this yesterday. Aren't I supposed to be getting a bit better every day?'

Snape put the paper down and turned his chair to face the table. He poured himself more coffee. Harry took the opportunity to take a mouthful of his meal.

'I did have hopes that that would indeed be the case, but yesterday's unfortunate event has caused you a slight set back.'

'But you fixed me up in the hospital wing. Didn't you?'

'The damage done yesterday still has a long way to go before it is fully rectified. Your liver, in particular—and apart from the recent damage accorded it—is very far from normal. It is swollen and friable; that means it is easily shredded; and as the liver is a very vascular organ, the potential for disaster is enormous.'

Harry was listening intently, absentmindedly spooning porridge into his mouth.

Snape continued. 'I have taken steps to protect your liver from further damage until it is not quite so susceptible. I have placed the equivalent of a cushioning charm around it. Your spleen too, as it is a similar tissue and would be just as susceptible to injury.'

Harry looked at Snape, his brow furrowed. 'But you said that all the poison is out of my system.' He sounded slightly desperate.

'And so it is, Mr Potter. That, however, is not to say that all the damage to your body is fully healed.' Here Snape looked slightly uncomfortable. He looked down at his hand where the index finger was tracing the rim of his coffee cup. Harry could see dull flags of colour across his cheekbones.

'Part of the blame for yesterday's mishap must be laid at my door. As your carer, I should have vetoed the headmaster's desire to have you attend the lunch in the Great Hall. We were both too precipitate in our desire to see you active again. The whole day was far too taxing for you; not least our long hike from these chambers.'

Harry had leaned back in his chair now, watching the stains on Snapes cheeks expand. He rubbed his stomach, which felt uncomfortably full.

'I did not realise that your liver and spleen were still quite so vulnerable to injury. Because both organs were performing their normal physiologies, I assumed they were completely healed.' He lifted his head and pinned Harry with his black eyes. 'I was wrong.'

Severus Snape wrong! Harry had never thought to hear any such admission from the man. Ron would have sat in open-mouthed astonishment, or perhaps even sniggered. Once upon a time, Harry might have done the same thing.

Right now though, all he could do was look down into his still half full bowl of congealing porridge and cream. 'I know how hard you've worked on me, Professor,' he said softly. 'I don't blame you for anything that went wrong.'

The two black haired wizards stared at each other for several, charged seconds. Then Snape seemed to come back to himself and he became aware that Harry was massaging his stomach. A slight smirk quirked his lips.

He looked pointedly at Harry's bowl. 'Finish your breakfast, Mr Potter.'

Harry frowned but picked up his discarded spoon. He dipped it back into the bowl but before it completed the journey to his mouth, he sighed heavily and dropped it back in the bowl. 'I can't, Sir. You were right. I'm already full.'

Harry scowled as Snape's slight smirk increased. 'I don't understand. How can I eat less than half a bowl of porridge and feel like I've stuffed as much food as Ron can eat in a day into myself. I ate more than this yesterday and didn't feel like this.'

'In this Mr Potter, I was not worried about being wrong. Those cushioning charms I have surrounded your liver and spleen with are taking up a lot of room within your abdomen. There is very little room for your stomach to expand. You are feeling uncomfortably bloated, are you not?'

Harry nodded and rubbed his stomach again. 'Yeah, I feel like a poisoned pup.'

Snape rolled his eyes. 'Hardly eloquent, but evocative. I knew you would not be able to consume great quantities of food, so I provided cream rather than milk. I do want you fattened up, Mr Potter, and the cream provided the extra calories you would have missed out on by not eating a full breakfast.'

'How long do these cushioning charms have to stay in place. It's really uncomfortable now that I've eaten.'

'I'm sorry, Mr Potter, but it will be at least three more days. After that, I will reassess.'

Severus now stood up in a fluid movement. "You will be eating at least eight very small meals, a day. The house elves have their orders and when food appears, no matter the time, you will eat. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yes, Sir.' Harry said through clenched teeth.

'Good. Now I wish you to get your school bag and show me your homework assignments.'

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Forty-eight hours later, Harry was just about ready to climb the walls. He had finally finished his transfiguration homework assignment, but only after having written it twice already. To be fair, he was not surprised to have to rewrite the first draft. He had not put in much effort, and when Snape made so many red notations, the original text was practically illegible.

The second draft, Harry felt to be satisfactory but Snape obviously thought otherwise. The red notations were nowhere near as abundant, but the fact of them being there at all made it impossible for Harry to hand the work to Professor McGonagall.

Harry pointed this out to Snape by waving the adulterated parchment under the man's overlarge nose while he was sitting at his desk writing some notes of his own—the ink was black, Harry was amazed to see. He thought Snape only ever used red ink.

'What's this all about?' yelled Harry. 'There was nothing wrong with this work.'

Snape stopped writing, then he slowly raised his head to glare into the livid, young face. For a fleeting second, he caught a glimpse of someone familiar in the boy's pugnacious features—he stared, mesmerised, completely forgetting his instant desire to jump down Potter's throat for his impertinence.

'Sir?'

Severus blinked and came back to the present. The boy's anger had dissipated; he was now actually looking worried. Now Lily shone through those green, concerned eyes. Severus lowered his own eyelids to hide his confusion. Albus had been right. It had been a very rare occasion indeed that one had ever seen James Potter in a roaring temper. And if that rare happening did occur, the momentary ire that would appear on his face faded to a blank façade until the emotional outburst ended. It had almost been as though it was not natural for his usual laughing visage to take on the lines of anger and discontent.

It was one of the things that used to infuriate Severus the most. James Potter, the prankster had always been smiling or laughing. Even when tormenting Severus, it had never been because of anger. Most of James' escapades had been pranks and jokes. From the perspective of time, Severus had admitted long ago that there had never been any true malice in his cousins actions. Their time at Hogwarts had been one long, joke to James. Unlike Black, who could be as dark and vindictive as Severus himself.

The one time Severus had seen James truly angry, it had not been he who had been the recipient of that fury. That unlucky person had been Black, and it had been after the "full moon" incident. His cousin had not spoken to his best friend for the rest of term and Severus realised that he had never really seen James angry before that night.

No, Harry was as unlike James in the area of temperament as day was from night. He was just like Severus. And Severus had just glimpsed himself in the boy's furious expression. But unlike himself, whose displays of fury were rarely short lived and even more rarely overtaken by a kinder emotion, Harry was the epitome of his mother when it came to concern and compassion and those emotions often overrode his anger.

'Sir, are you all right?'

Severus launched himself to his feet, shocking Harry and making him fall back a few paces. No I am not all right, you foolish child. I have just seen myself in you and I am more than a little disconcerted. Blast that old man for being right again!

Severus planted his fists on the desk and leaned forward, thrusting his face into a shocked Harry's. 'Stop bleating at me, and just get on with your work, Potter. I want that essay finished today and I want it perfect…'

'It was perfect until you put red ink all over it!' yelled back Harry, his temper rising with the rapidity of a thestral launching itself into the air. 'Professor McGonagall would have been happy with that work.'

'Just because Professor McGonagall is happy with mediocrity does not mean that I am…'

'You are not my transfiguration teacher!'

'Potter!' roared Severus. 'Get out of my sight and redo that essay. Use the brain that I know is lurking somewhere in that oversized skull of yours and do the work to the standard I know you are capable of.'

Harry's lips were white with fury but he thought Snape might hit him if he didn't go. Snatching up the essay, he scrunched it up in his fist and stormed off towards the bedroom. Before he could slam the door however, Snape's roar of 'Potter!' stopped him in his tracks. He squared his shoulders and turned around.

'What!'

Snape glared at him and said in a deadly voice, 'What, Professor.'

Harry ground his teeth so hard he thought he would have to spit out a mouth full of dust. 'What, Professor.'

Snape jerked his head towards the dining alcove. Harry glared in that direction and saw a small meal set out on the table.

'I'm not hungry,' bit out Harry.

'Regardless, you will eat and drink everything there.' And then to Harry's astonishment, Snape yelled, 'Flintoff!' to the room at large.

Immediately, there was a loud crack and a wizened, old house elf appeared. He looked to be of a similar vintage as Kreacher but he (Harry assumed it was a he) was scrupulously clean and tidy; he was dressed in the white tea towel toga with the Hogwarts crest emblazoned near the shoulder strap. His white fluffy hair was neatly brushed back from a high forehead, and the hair in his ears and nostrils was neatly trimmed. His huge, protuberant eyes were a spooky amber colour and they seemed to bore right through everything they looked at, particularly Harry who was still suspended in the bedroom doorway.

The elf bowed low to Snape. 'Master Snape wishes something of Flintoff?'

'I desire you to stay here and make sure that Mr Potter eats all his meal. I will check with you later to make sure he has done so.'

Flintoff bowed again. 'As you wish, Master Snape.'

Snape glared in Harry's direction again and jerked his head towards the table. Harry's lips pressed into a thin line. 'I'm not a child! I don't need supervising.'

Snape had swept over to the fireplace and taken up a pinch of floo powder. He returned his shuttered gaze to Harry who was so angry, the scrunched up parchment in his hand was shaking.

'I beg to differ. You are angry, therefore you are defiant. You will eat that meal.'

Harry's chin rose a notch. The elf was looking from one to the other as he followed their verbal joust.

'And what if I don't?'

In a flash, Snape had stridden across the room. A fine trickle of floo powder floated to the floor in his wake. His face was white with fury except for those two flags of colour high on his cheekbones. Harry fell back but Snape fisted a handful of his T-shirt and dragged him upwards so that they were nose to nose. Harry gulped.

'You do not want to know what I will do if you do not do as you have been instructed, Potter.' He released the shirt and Harry staggered backwards.

At the fireplace, Snape delivered one more order before he disappeared. 'And you still have that essay to finish.' Then in a flash of green, he was gone.

TBC…

I hope the wait has been worth it for all of you who are enjoying my fic.

I also hope you don't think I am dragging things out too much with Sev not telling Harry yet. Don't forget, it is taking a mighty effort for Sev to come to terms with things himself. Dislike does not turn to acceptance overnight. But the worm is turning…VERY, VERY slowly though.

Enjoy.