10: (march)
Spring broke outside the windows of the Infirmary and for once Severus woke alone and stayed that way. His curiosity had been minimized since he'd woken from his coma, but seeing as he was alone with little else to do but his walking exercises up and down the Hospital floor and play with another godforsaken puzzle, he decided he'd sate what little curiosity he did have.
For a while now, he'd been wondering about the rotting that only seemed to happen around him. He lifted a glass, examined it, dropped and broke it in a fit of cursing, proceeded to mend and replace it, and moved on to do the same with the pitcher. He was right that the glass had worn thin on the edges, and he could sense magic as it's source, but there was no trace of a spell that had been cast on it. When he finished, he moved from the bed to sit on the floor and examine the drawer handle, but gained nothing new with that either. He didn't bother with the blankets on his bed as they'd been changed yesterday, but instead moved his attention to Potter's chair.
The handles, completely rotted through in the centres, were the only part of the chair that seemed touched but the magic reeked from the whole thing. The curtains that could be pulled around his bed for privacy also were worn thin around the edges, but past them the trace of magic seemed to dissipate.
The magic didn't feel like his, but as the circle of magic centred on him, he didn't see another possibility. Somehow his magic was destroying the things around him. Suddenly tired, Severus turned and sank down into the chair.
"What are you doing?" Potter asked, and Severus turned to see that he had just walked up.
"Sitting, Potter," Severus sneered.
"In my seat."
Severus sighed, too tired to fight the boy, and too tired to let asking for help bother him, "Give me a hand back up."
The boy flinched as if he'd expected a harsh reply and was reacting to that rather than what he'd actually heard, and he shook his head and stepped back. Severus sighed again, and went to use the nonexistent armrests to heave himself up, and promptly pushed his hands and arms down through the splintery edges. As he cursed, Potter calmly left to find Pomfrey to help him.