Thank you to the beta of this chapter- Born-of-Elven-Blood

Chapter Twenty SIx- The Waiting Game

Severus woke with a low moan to a frantic pounding on his front door.

"Someone better be dying..." he grumbled.

He donned his robe and flung open his bedroom door, only to stop short at the sight of the bookshelf standing open in the living room. It had been shut fast when he went to bed. A vague sense of unease clenched his gut. Ignoring the relentless thumping and muffled shouts, he approached the opening - and caught sight of Harry laying motionless on the floor.

Dark realization hit him and he bolted forward, sliding to his knees next to the boy, knocking several empty vials out of the way - more than he could count at a glance. He winced inwardly. It was incredibly dangerous to take so many potions at once; they were known to combine in the person's stomach, resulting in extremely unpredictable side effects.

A bezoar was in his hand before he had time to consider, but as the pitted stone passed Harry's lips it cracked, crumbled and dissolved in a cloud of gray dust, overwhelmed by the sheer potency of the chemical magic soaking into his blood.

Horrified, Severus leaned back and took in the extent of the damage. Blisters formed around the boy's mouth and down his neck. Blood leaked out of his ears, nose and eyes. Chunks of his hair were starting to fall out while twitches and convulsions wracked his body. The white foam dripping from the corners of his mouth had gone gray with the powdery remnants of the obliterated bezoar.

Cursing roundly under his breath, Severus quickly waved his wand to allow whoever was still pounding on the door to come inside. He didn't care who it was; he was going to need help.

Hermione bolted in the moment the door opened, only to let out a scream at the sight of the professor rolling Harry onto his side to keep him from choking on the frothing sludge spilling out of his mouth.

"Keep it together, Granger!" Severus ordered. A fit of hysterics right now could prove deadly. "I need you to run to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomphrey that Harry has overdosed on potions."

Hermione swallowed hard, straightened her spine and gave a quick nod before dashing past Ron out the door, tears already streaming down her face.

Poppy would come quickly, of course, but not quickly enough. Even as Severus watched the boy was growing paler, his breathing more shallow. He was reluctant to use even the smallest spells on him, given the amount of magic already in his system, but if he didn't do something it would be too late...

"Weasley!" Severus nodded towards the cabinet as he moved to stabilize Harry's head while he continued to convulse. "Get the plastic tubing from the bottom drawer."

Ron stared at the scene for a long moment before stepping over the scattered bottles and retrieving the requested length of stiff plastic.

Snape quickly snatched it from him. "I need you to hold him still."

"I...I can't..." Ron shook his head, the blood draining from his face.

Without missing a beat, Severus reached up and grabbed the boy by the collar, jerking him down to look him hard in the eye. "If you don't, he will die," he said bluntly. He didn't have time to sugar coat it. Harry didn't have time.

Ron clenched his jaw and gave a shaky nod as he dropped to his knees and placed his hands on Harry's arms, shuddering at how cold and clammy his skin was.

"Hold him tight," Severus instructed before grabbing Harry's head and sliding the tube into his right nostril.

Ron closed his eyes and turned his head, tightening his grip as Harry began to gag and arch uncontrollably. He couldn't bear to watch what was happening to his best friend.

Once the tube reached the boy's stomach Severus carefully secured it with very careful sticking charm and brandished his wand at the protruding plastic. "Impuritas deturbo!"

Severus watched grimly as a mixture of sewage green slime and dark blood came rushing out of the tube and onto the floor. The puddle fizzed and sizzled, belching orange smoke. The thought of that caustic brew burning in the boy's gut made his breath catch in his chest.

Though it felt like hours, it wasn't long before Poppy came rushing in. Hermione arrived just behind her, but remained hovering like a frightened ghost in the shadow of the doorway, a sheet of paper clutched in one hand.

"What did he take?" Poppy asked, lifting Harry eyelid. His eyes were bloodshot, the sclera jaundiced, the pupils blown so wide that only the thinnest sliver of green iris remained. She lifted the boy's lips only to see that his gums were bleeding.

Severus looked around at the dozens of empty potion bottles that littered the table and floor. "...everything."

"We have to move him to the hospital wing now," Poppy said urgently, conjuring a stretcher.

...

"No! No!" Hermione screamed, banging on the door to the private infirmary room that the adults had just disappeared into with Harry, shutting Ron and her out in the dark, silent hospital wing.

"Hermione… Hermione!" Ron yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her back into his arms. "It's alright...it's alright…" he tried to soothe.

"No, it's not!" she cried into his chest. "He tried to leave us...he tried to leave!"

"I know… I know…" he said softly. The feel of Harry's limp, twitching muscles and cold skin remained all too fresh in his mind.

He guided her over to one of the nearby cots, where they sat side by side, watching the closed door for some sign as to what was going on inside. The wait was agonizing. It wasn't until the sun came up that Severus and Poppy emerged from the room, looking disheveled and exhausted. They teens leapt to their feet, hope and dread mixing in their expressions. Neither teacher seemed surprised that they were still there.

"He's alright for now," Poppy said softly. "You two can go in, so long as you remain composed and quiet. He's not out of the woods yet, and he needs rest."

Hermione wasted no time dashing past her, but stopped short at what she saw. Harry lay in the bed, his skin blending in with the sheets. The tube was still in his nose but it was now hooked up to some kind of machine that she had never seen before, and a complex set of runes glowed in the air over his bed, pulsing and shifting in time with his vital functions. Bandages covered his neck but she could see that the pus-filled blisters around his mouth had been sliced open to drain and treated with a thick white salve.

But what upset Hermione the most were the restraints around Harry's wrists and ankles.

Wiping fresh tears away, she made her way over to the bedside and tried to brush some of his hair over the bald spots that now peppered his scalp, but his hair had thinned out quite a lot, so it didn't make much difference.

"...it will grow back," Ron spoke up from over her shoulder, noting her distress.

"I know..." Hermione muttered, feeling helpless. She ran her fingers through his tufts of hair again, noticing how cold he was even with several blankets stacked on top of him. She quickly swept off her robe and placed it over top of him, hoping to lend him some of her warmth. Satisfied, she sank into one of the chairs beside the bed.

Ron said nothing as he took the seat next to her.

"What's that?" he asked, noticing for the first time a worried sheet of paper clasped in her hand.

"It's...his note," she murmured, passing it to him.

Ron unfolded the paper and stared at it for a long time, wondering how two little words could have such a devastating impact.

"He's going to make it through this," he said aloud, but he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Hermione, or himself.

Hermione gave a small nod, but her eyes were filled with an uncertainty that matched his own. She took his hand in hers and settled in to wait for Harry to wake up.