Chapter 38: Experiments

"Update," Madame Pomfrey requested for the third time. She'd been asking at thirty-minute intervals.

"Same as before, kinda numb, a little sharp, shooting pain." He wiggled his toes and cringed.

"Hurt?"

"Yeah."

"Worse than before?" She pressed.

"A little," he was loath to admit.

Severus stifled a whimper. He knew the increased pain was a good sign, but hated that his elixir caused it. The last thing he wanted was to put Harry in unnecessary agony.

After another hour, The Gryffindor fell asleep. He snored peacefully, his hand never letting go of Snape's. His dreams were bizarre, swirling vortexes of greens and blues. He felt like he was weightlessly floating through a galaxy. His back spasmed.

A bloodcurdling scream woke Severus. He watched in horror as the Gryffindor's body contorted into horrible shapes. I did this. The potion master forced the thought down as he nearly climbed atop him. His hands grasped Harry's flailing wrists and brought them down to his sides. "Shh, you're okay. You're okay, Harry. I'm here. You're safe." He heard Poppy's muttered curses behind him.

"I've got his legs," she said breathlessly.

Fire. There was fire in his veins. It was twining around his muscles and bones, climbing along his spine, burning everything in his path. Harry tried to twist away from it, avoid it's angry, revenge-seeking glow. The greens and blues of his dreams melted into reds and oranges. Fingers wrapped around his wrist—strong, familiar fingers. But he couldn't place them. Let go! He thought. Did they not understand he needed to escape the fire? He pulled against them, fighting their grasp.

"Is there anything we can give him?" Madame Pomfrey rasped.

"No." There were too many unknowns. He was on the verge of hyperventilating and desperately tried to calm himself. It wouldn't do to have the medi-witch distracted by him fainting. His heart banged against his ribs as he felt the Gryffindor struggle under him. "Harry," he said softly. "Harry, you're safe. You're here with me, in my chambers. Poppy is here, too. You drank a potion for your spine." My potion. My fucking experimental potion. He forced himself to stop—Potter needed him. "Relax. I'm here. I promise."

Harry stopped jerking, his muscles calmed. The fire dulled to an unwelcome, warm embrace. He gave in, letting it take him and slowly soothe his pain. Again, his body seemed to be hovering effortlessly, gliding through space. It was as though the fire completely numbed his nerves. A purple cloud drifted by and he stretched his fingers out to it. The cloud was freezing cold, but he liked the sensation. Slowly, the chill crept up his arm.

After a few minutes, both healers climbed down. Poppy mentioned she was going to take a quick break but to call her if anything changed.

Severus stared at Harry, really seeing him for the first time in years. His broken glasses had long since been replaced with the thick black-framed pair on the table. His face was more angular than it had ever been during his education. The once messy, raven hair was fairly-tamed, looking as though it may have been mussed from sleep instead of a tornado. His gaze fell on fresher wounds on the Gryffindor's hip. He frowned. When did he have time to make those? Snape went through his med-bag and grabbed some salve. He gently smeared it on the angry slashes.

The Gryffindor shifted in his sleep. "Mrrr."

"Shhh, you're okay."

He smiled in his sleep, nuzzling into the pillow.

Severus lay down, sighing as his back hit the mattress. "Potter, what am I going to do with you?" He gently touched Harry's arm and recoiled. It was cold. His fingers shook as he wrapped them around his wand and sent a patronus to Madame Pomfrey. "Harry?" Severus lightly shook the Gryffindor's shoulder. "Harry?!"

Harry started shaking. The cloud had fully surrounded him, bathing him in ice. Better than burning, he decided. But the longer he stayed in its purple grasp, the less he could think of anything other than the bitter cold. He knew he should move—at least attempt to escape. But what good would it do? I can't feel my back here…

By the time Poppy appeared, minutes later, Severus had layered Potter in blankets. "He's cold. Deathly cold." There were countless potions to warm a body; five of which were at arm's length. Snape shook his head when she reached for one. "We can't."

The medi-witch cursed. "What can we do?"

"Wait. We can wait," he repeated. "We've done everything we can do. The rest is up to him." Severus took Potter's hand in his, squeezing it gently.

Harry stared through the purple veil, watching the blues and greens swim together. He shivered as the chill slithered though his bones. Keeping his eyes open was exhausting, but something told him to not fall asleep.

Hours passed and Severus was getting more anxious by the second. He declined every offer of food or rest. "How the hell could I eat?" He snapped when Poppy asked a third time.

Madame Pomfrey shrugged. She hadn't left Harry's side but once since Snape called her back. Her heart ached for the both of them. If Severus loses him—she shuddered. Poppy had given up trying to comfort him after every attempt was met with a harsh jab or stony silence.

The potion master paced the room like a caged animal. He looked from Harry's motionless form to the walls and back, as he circled the bed. Severus longed to throw himself into the Gryffindor's mind and figure out what he was feeling. The risks outweighed the potential benefits. He sighed and slid down the wall, his face in his hands. His body shook with sobs. He didn't care that Poppy was witnessing his breakdown—he needed Harry to be okay.

A/N: Hey, y'all. I know there's been a lot of focus on Harry's back injury (and there will continue to be one, but it will lessen fairly soon). And I just wanted to let you know that… a lot of what's happening to him is what happened/is happening to me. (Obviously not with all the potions). But I hope that anyone else struggling with chronic pain (especially those younger folks) know that there are others out there like you. It is completely okay and understandable for you to say when it's too much. You are valid, you are incredible, you are strong. If getting out of bed is an accomplishment for you—HELL YEAH YOU GOT OUT OF BED AND I AM SO DAMN PROUD. I cried the first time I could pick a pencil up off the ground without falling on it—my physical therapist was so excited, he hugged me. And for those of you who don't have chronic pain, I wanted to give you a glimpse into the reality of living with it. Everyone's pain is different, everyone has different limits. Harry's back issues may be vastly different than yours, but that doesn't make yours (or his) less valid. I love you guys, and I'm so happy you've stuck with me this long. Thank you.