Harry stumbled on his way out of the floo– as he always did– and just barely managed to keep his balance. He coughed heavily, trying to clear his lungs of the soot he'd inhaled.

Once he could breathe again, Harry positioned his hands to dust off his uniform, but he remembered at the last minute that this would be a terrible idea. Instead, he stood, frozen in place, as he stared in consternation at the state of his uniform.

"Hello?" Madam Pomfrey called.

"Er– over here," Harry said. Without thinking about it, he quickly tucked his hands into his armpits.

There was the sound of footsteps, and then Madam Pomfrey came around the corner of the privacy screens.

"What happened, Mr Potter?" she asked, looking him over. A quick wave of her wand banished the dirt from Harry's uniform.

"Thank you ma'am," Harry said sincerely. "There was– uh, an accident– in Potions. And I got hit with some of the spilt potion."

"Well, let's get you settled, and then I can take a look," Madam Pomfrey said, beckoning for Harry to follow her.

Harry complied, and she guided him over to the cabinet of hospital gowns. She had just handed one to him and told him to put it on when the floo flared again.

"Poppy?" Snape called.

Madam Pomfrey huffed out an exasperated sigh. "Severus?" she responded, "Can it wait a moment? I'm with a patient."

"What I have to say involves your patient," Snape said.

Harry's heart had begun to pound as soon as he had heard Snape's voice.

"Go ahead and get that on while I talk to Professor Snape, and I'll be by shortly to see what I can do for you," Madam Pomfrey said to Harry.

Harry felt himself nod.

Then Madam Pomfrey hurried over to the floo.

Harry remained frozen for a moment with the gown still in his hands. He knew that Snape had said he would be calling Madam Pomfrey, but a small part of him had hoped Snape would decide that it wasn't worth his time to follow through. But he clearly had decided to follow through, so Harry was sure that Snape was going to divulge everything that Harry had worked so hard to keep secret.

When Madam Pomfrey asked if what Snape had to say could wait, Harry snapped himself out of it. He shuffled over to one of the beds, pulling the privacy curtains closed around him. Harry did his best to start the arduous process of trying to undress himself, but between his hands shaking due to nerves, and his reluctance to risk aggravating his multiple injuries, it was difficult to manage anything. As Harry continued with his careful efforts, he half listened as Snape told Pomfrey about what had happened.

Harry slumped in relief when Snape finished his account without mentioning Umbridge. Then Harry tensed back up when he remembered that Snape had said he would be telling McGonagall everything. There was nothing he could do to stop Snape, though, so he did his best to focus exclusively on getting his shirt off.

"Do you need help, Mr Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked, startling him.

A glance down made it clear that he did need help– he had only gotten two buttons undone so far. He jerked his head in a sharp nod and carefully set his hands down by his sides.

"I'll just turn my back and swap your uniform for the hospital gown with my wand then," Madam Pomfrey said, and then she proceeded to do just that.

Harry took a seat on the hospital bed and wrapped his arms around himself so that his hands were behind his back when Madam Pomfrey turned back around.

"So Severus said that you treated some previous injuries on your hands that could interfere with the action of the antidote. I will not get into all the reasons why you should have come to me for treatment just yet, but for now, know that if you had come straight to me, it would have been as simple as choosing another antidote. As it is, I'm going to have to take some of your blood and run some tests."

Harry stared at some point to the left of Madam Pomfrey as she spoke, too guilty to even attempt to meet her gaze. He knew why he hadn't gone to her for help, but he still felt terrible for making her do more work now.

"Mr Potter, I will need your hands, so I can take a blood sample," Madam Pomfrey said.

Harry took a deep breath, then reluctantly held out his hands for her to inspect. The quill injury was by far the more incriminating of the two, so he kept his hands palm up.

Madam Pomfrey gently took hold of his wrists and tsk'd lightly. "Oh dear, this does look nasty." She released his wrists and reached into her pocket for a syringe. "I need to take the sample from areas as close to the injuries as possible, so this will likely hurt a bit."

Harry nodded.

Then Madam Pomfrey proceeded to draw blood from both of his hands. Harry could tell that she had been as gentle as possible, but it still hurt. And when she saw the marks the blood– er, Black Quill– left, she looked like she wanted to say something.

Harry braced himself for the interrogation, determined to not give her anymore information than Snape had already given her, but she just shook her head at herself and moved on. Once she was done drawing his blood, she left him alone while she went to run the tests on his blood.

Harry couldn't quite believe that the healing potion he'd used could interfere all that much with the antidote, but then again, he didn't exactly know much about potions.

Once the door to Madam Pomfrey's office closed, Harry peeled back the covers on the bed and slid under them. As he tried to pull the blankets back up over his legs, he was reminded of this morning, when Ron had tucked him in.

Harry hoped that Ron and Hermione weren't too worried about him, since they'd likely managed to work out where he'd gone.

It was ridiculous that he even had to be here in the Hospital Wing. He wasn't hurt badly enough to justify the risk of him being here. If Madam Pomfrey found out about the source of his injuries– about what his detentions with Umbridge entailed– she would probably try to do something about it, and Umbridge would fire her. McGonagall was probably at risk too, since Snape was apparently going to tell her everything.

Hogwarts needed them too badly. The risk they were taking in order to treat hives that he could handle on his own was not worth it.

Harry continued to worry about would happen next– about whether Madam Pomfrey would push for answers about his hands and about what Snape's conversation with McGonagall would result in. When Madam Pomfrey came bustling out of her office some time later, with a potion bottle falling her through the air, he was grateful for the distraction.

"Alright, Mr Potter, the results are in. It looks like Severus has saved you from a long night here in my infirmary. The healing potion you used on your hands would have interacted with the antidote and peeled the skin off your hands entirely."

Harry's jaw dropped at what could have happened.

Madam Pomfrey caught his gaze. "That is correct, potions can have disastrous interactions, particularly in open wounds, and this is why you should always go to a professional for medical help."

Harry nodded faintly, still stunned by how severe the much-touted interaction could have been. He'd assumed that the interaction would have been something minor– like cause more hives to pop up, or change the color of the hives, or something mostly harmless like that.

"Moving on," Madam Pomfrey said, "I have found an antidote that should clear up the hives. It will have no interaction with the healing potion you chose, which is why I want to try this one first. So, may I see your hand?"

Harry held out his left hand, and she took it. She plucked the bottle that had been floating near her head out of the air. She shifted both her stance and her grip on Harry's wrist so that his hand was held over a clear portion of the floor. Then she poured out the liquid from the bottle over his hand, carefully rotating both the bottle and his wrist to make sure she covered all of the surface area.

"How does it feel?" Madam Pomfrey asked, after she had released his hand.

Harry turned his hand over, thinking about it for a moment. The liquid had felt like water on his hand, but the moment she'd stopped pouring, his hand had immediately felt dry again. And the hives didn't really feel any different. "I don't think it did much," Harry said.

Madam Pomfrey hummed thoughtfully. "I think I'll treat the other hand too, then let you rest for a while. This antidote, if it works, is supposed to be slow-acting, and I'd rather not throw another potion into the mix unless it is absolutely necessary."

This made sense, so Harry nodded and held out his right hand for her.

She repeated the process, but once she was done, she didn't let go of his hand. Harry glanced up from his hand to her face and had to look away immediately at the look of immense concern on her face.

"I refrained from asking about this because I wanted to work on treating the hives first. But Harry, why did you not come to me for treatment? I can tell that this is a new injury overlaid on an old one– who made you write this with a Black Quill?"

Harry's gut clenched. He kept his eyes averted and shook his head firmly.

"I cannot do anything to help you if you won't tell me anything," Madam Pomfrey said pleadingly.

The knot in Harry's stomach clenched even tighter. He jerked his shoulders in a shrug and shook his head again. How could he tell her that her very desire to help was the reason that he refused to go to her in the first place?

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Alright. I can see that this is not going anywhere, so I will leave you to rest. Let me know if you need anything at all– and I mean anything. I'll be over in my office with the door open."

Harry nodded. As he listened to her receding footsteps, he brought his knees up to his chest and propped his forehead against them.

He was finally alone. Now he could try and start sorting through his feelings. After his conversation with Madam Pomfrey, guilt was at the top of the pile. But lurking underneath that was a considerable amount of anger.

Harry was sick of adults steam-rolling over his thoughts and opinions. He hadn't wanted to get help. And even now that he knew that the normal antidote would have been a horrible choice to treat his hands, he was still infuriated that Snape had literally dragged him to the floo and shoved him through it to the Hospital Wing.

And his anger fed back into his guilt because, for once, Snape had actually been trying to be helpful. But then Harry remembered how high and mighty Snape had been about it, and he got angry all over again.

Harry wished he could have just one school year where he was left alone.

He sighed, doing his best to shove all his anger and guilt away. Then he slid down into a prone position on the bed and closed his eyes.

It had already been such a terribly long day, and it wasn't even over yet.


The doors to the Hospital Wing slammed open with a resounding bang, startling Harry out of the doze he had been in. He propped himself up onto his elbows, curious as to who had barged in so rudely.

When Harry saw that it was Umbridge, he froze. His mind started to race as he tried to think of what she could possibly be doing here. Harry wondered, for a moment, if she had known he was here. Maybe Umbridge was worried about Madam Pomfrey discovering what she had done to him.

But then he watched Umbridge make a beeline right for Madam Pomfrey's office without even glancing at him, and he was able to discard that thought.

Before Umbridge could make it all the way to the nurse's office, Madam Pomfrey pushed her door open and stepped out. When Madam Pomfrey's eyes landed on Umbridge, her face tightened in restrained dislike.

"What can I do for you?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Good afternoon, Madam Pomfrey," Umbridge said, in the same way she did when prompting her class to greet her.

Madam Pomfrey closed her eyes for just a moment longer than necessary. "Good afternoon, Pr- Headmistress. What can I do for you?"

Umbridge sighed. "Well, you see, I have had this terribly awful headache for hours. I'm afraid it's begun to interfere with my duties as Headmistress." Here Umbridge paused, smiling expectantly.

Madam Pomfrey fixed her own smile onto her face. "Of course I can help. One moment, please." She began to turn away, but Umbridge cleared her throat significantly, and so Madam Pomfrey froze.

"You are dismissed," Umbridge said pointedly.

Madam Pomfrey nodded curtly and resumed walking towards her medicinal cabinet. It took her a moment to sort through the potions, and then she turned back to Umbridge. "Here you are. Take two spoonfuls orally, every eight hours at least, and no more than four times in a 24-hour period."

Umbridge snatched the bottle out of Madam Pomfrey's hands.

"And how long, might I ask, until it actually begins to work? Because you see, Madam Pomfrey, I am a very busy woman, and I simply do not have the time for subpar medication."

"It is dependent on many different things– for example, how much you've eaten today, how bad the headache is, and whether you've taken anything else for it– but it should take no longer than an hour following the dose. And each subsequent dosage should take less time to take effect," Madam Pomfrey said evenly, her tone belied by the tightness of her face and stance.

Umbridge uncapped the potion, then paused. "And where is the spoon?"

Another grimace crossed Madam Pomfrey's face. But she waved her wand and summoned a spoon from her office. "Here you are."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Umbridge said simperingly. She grabbed the spoon from Madam Pomfrey and deposited two spoonfuls of the potion into her toad-like mouth. After she had swallowed, she said, her tone light, "Are you quite sure that this is the correct potion? I find the taste to be… lacking."

"Flavorants counteract the action of the medicine."

Umbridge made a noise of disappointment. "It just seems to me that someone who was more competent in their position would be able to manage something as simple as ensuring that their medications do not taste disgusting."

Madam Pomfrey neglected to answer, choosing instead to stand absolutely still with a painful smile frozen on her face.

After a long moment, Umbridge cleared her throat. "I will take my leave now, I have important tasks to be doing, after all, but you should think carefully about what I've said."

"Of course," Madam Pomfrey said. She turned on her heel and strode back into her office, closing the door behind her with a firm click.

Umbridge stared at the door for a moment. She turned to exit the infirmary, and that was when her eyes landed on Harry.

Harry had been sitting as still as he could to avoid drawing attention to himself. And he had so nearly been successful– but now Umbridge had seen him, and she would know that he'd been caught with his injuries.

"Mr Potter? Have you been there this whole time?" she asked, her voice sickly sweet.

Harry glanced desperately around the empty infirmary, hoping to see some way out of this. Of course, there was nothing, so he reluctantly focused back on Umbridge. "Yes, ma'am," he said softly, his heart pounding in his ears.

"Then why did you not greet me when I came in?" she asked, her lips spread in an approximation of a smile.

Harry scrambled to think of an excuse, something he could say to reduce the trouble he would get in. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I was just–"

"No excuses, Mr Potter," Umbridge said, cutting him off. "You know it is disrespectful to ignore your betters when they enter the room, and yet you did it anyways. It seems my lessons have yet to impart themselves upon you." Here she stopped, her smile stretching wider yet, and her next words were slow, deliberate. "Children who are disrespectful must... be... punished. You will report to my office for detention at 7 o'clock sharp tonight," she finished, sounding satisfied.

Harry's hands had started to shake. "Yes, ma'am," he said quietly.

"Really, you should thank me for taking the time out of my busy schedule to discipline you," Umbridge said, tilting her head to the side.

Harry had to force the words out of his mouth. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Very good," Umbridge said. "Have a good afternoon, Mr Potter. I will see you at seven."

"Have a good afternoon, Professor," Harry echoed.

Finally, Umbridge spun on her heel and marched out of the infirmary. As soon as the doors to the infirmary closed behind her, Harry slumped bonelessly back onto his pillows, some of the tension draining out of his body.

Some, but not all, because now he had to worry about his new detention with Umbridge.

At the thought of what he'd be doing in a couple short hours, Harry turned onto his side and pulled his knees up. He folded his hands against his chest, as if, by curling protectively around his hands, he'd be able to protect them from what was to come.

Harry stared blankly at the far wall of the Hospital Wing as he continued to think. Surely Umbridge had given him detention to punish him for being caught in the infirmary. Because while she'd never explicitly threatened him into silence, it had been understood that the detentions were just between them.

And on the day after he'd had a detention with her, there was little else she could assume he was in the infirmary for. Especially since she'd done something new last night.

To distract himself from these thoughts, Harry uncurled himself slightly and reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. The moment he wrapped his hand around the glass, he exclaimed "Oh!", and yanked his hand back against his chest.

He clutched at his left wrist with his right hand as he waited with gritted teeth for the pain to fade back to manageable levels.

"Mr Potter? Are you alright?" Madam Pomfrey asked, coming to a halt next to Harry's bed.

"I'm fine," Harry said automatically.

"Then what happened?" Madam Pomfrey asked skeptically.

"I was just trying to grab the glass of water, and, well…" Harry trailed off, glancing at his hand.

"Let me see your hand, then," Madam Pomfrey said, holding out her own hand.

Harry reluctantly held his out. Madam Pomfrey spent some time examining it, turning it over to catch the light. Then she cast several spells Harry had never heard of. When that was done, she waved her wand and summoned a jar of cream from her medicine cabinet. She wasted no time in opening the jar and spreading the cream onto Harry's burn.

"I was reluctant to use this until after I worked out the hives," she explained. "But it appears as though the hives are fading away, so it should be alright to treat the burn now."

Harry hadn't thought that she would be able to do anything for the burn. Or for the cut, really. Hermione had said something about dark magic interfering with the healing, so Harry had just assumed that there was nothing to be done to further accelerate the healing process.

"That ought to do it. And while I'm at it, let me see your other hand, too."

Harry held out his right hand, dazed, and pulled his left hand in towards himself so he could examine it. The skin was no longer the angry red color it had been since his last detention. The skin there was now just a few shades lighter than the color of the rest of his hand.

Harry experimentally opened and closed his fist a couple times. The discolored patch moved differently from the rest of his skin. It kept its shape longer than the rest of his skin did, and then it also took longer to relax back to normal. It felt like the skin was thicker now. And it was more sensitive, too. Not by a lot, but enough to be noticeable and distinct from the rest of his hand.

By the time Harry had finished examining the freshly healed burn, Madam Pomfrey had finished sorting out his other hand, too. Harry pulled his right hand closer to himself and flipped it over so he could stare in amazement at both healed injuries at once.

Then his stomach plummeted as he realized that, because he had detention tonight, Umbridge would be expecting his hands to be as injured as they had been yesterday. And since she'd seen him in the Hospital Wing, this would only serve as confirmation for her that he'd broken and gone running for help.

The pressing weight of disappointment settled onto his chest when he realized that he would only get to enjoy his miraculously pain-free hands for a couple hours before he would have to go and injure himself all over again.

"Mr Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Harry ripped his thoughts away from the downward spiral they'd been dropping into and said, "Yes?"

"I wanted to make sure you know that you will not be going to detention with that woman."

"What– no, I have to or–" Harry stammered out. Umbridge would make things much worse for him if he tried to hide in the Hospital Wing.

"No, you do not," Madam Pomfrey said. "I will be sorting it out. You are in no condition to sit through a– through a… detention."

Harry shook his head mutely. This was precisely why he had not come to the Hospital Wing to begin with. "You can't– she'll fire you," Harry said desperately. "We need you here."

Madam Pomfrey smiled kindly. "There's nothing to worry about. She will never know that I was involved."

Harry took in a deep, calming breath to head off the desperate rant he could feel building in his chest. There was clearly nothing he was going to be able to say to dissuade her from this; there was no use in him wasting his breath. He nodded and glanced away.

"You'll see, it will all be alright," Madam Pomfrey said kindly. Then she cleared her throat and said, "I think you're all set to have dinner now, so I will go ahead and order that for you. I'd like you to eat as much as you can because getting better is hard work!"

Harry nodded again and muttered, "Thank you." His chest felt tight, and he felt torn. He was upset that yet another adult was steam-rolling over what he wanted, but at the same time, he didn't really know how to respond to the care in her voice and manner.

Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey didn't seem to expect more of a response, because she just smiled at him and walked over to the fireplace.

Harry tuned her out as his thoughts drifted back to what she had said to him. She had said that he wouldn't have to go to detention, but he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. She had also said that she wasn't going to get directly involved, but he struggled to believe that, too.

Harry sighed and shook his head slightly to clear it. Madam Pomfrey would do as she liked, and there was nothing Harry could do to change her mind.

He could never do much to sway the adults in his life, no matter how hard he tried.

It wasn't long after Madam Pomfrey had called the kitchens that she returned to set a tray of food on Harry's lap before returning to her office. Harry decided to enjoy the chance to carelessly use the utensils without worrying about his hands, since he was sure that he would still have to go to detention after dinner.

When Harry was about halfway through his dinner, Professor McGonagall came out of Madam Pomfrey's office. She was closely followed by Madam Pomfrey herself. They both came over to Harry's bed, and Professor McGonagall conjured chairs for herself and Madam Pomfrey to sit in.

"Er, hello Professor," Harry said nervously, setting his utensils down. His detention was supposed to be soon, and so he assumed that was why she was here.

Still, Harry hoped that she wasn't, because she was just about the worst person– besides Madam Pomfrey– to be getting involved, in his opinion. Professor McGonagall was one of the professors most likely to stand up to Umbridge on behalf of the students. And, of course, everyone needed Madam Pomfrey to be here to heal them.

"Do you mind if we join you for dinner?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Sure," Harry said. It wasn't like he could just say no, though he wasn't entirely sure why they wanted to eat with him– unless… maybe Professor McGonagall was here to tell him that he would have to go to detention with Umbridge. Maybe Madam Pomfrey had tried to convince Professor McGonagall to intervene, but Professor McGonagall had said no because she knew saving Harry from a single detention wasn't worth it.

Professor McGonagall summoned two dinner trays from Madam Pomfrey's office. Both women immediately tucked into their respective dinners, so Harry copied them.

Harry was grateful they didn't seem to expect him to participate much in their conversation, because he really didn't feel up to chatting with his detention still looming on the horizon. Instead, he half-listened to them discuss some recent innovations in Medicalized Transfiguration.

When everyone was done eating, Madam Pomfrey banished all of their trays.

"Alright, Mr Potter. Are you ready to go?" Professor McGonagall asked, standing up.

"Go?" Harry asked, frowning. He had thought he there was still some time before he had to go to detention. No one had said anything about it, but it was still the most reasonable assumption.

"You're going to Grimmauld Place to visit with Padfoot for the evening," Professor McGonagall said.

Harry stared blankly at her. "But– Umbridge," Harry managed to say.

"Is of no concern," Professor McGonagall said. Then she drew her wand and cast several wards. "It is not safe to discuss it here– it is too public."

Right. Even the walls had ears. Harry nodded.

Professor McGonagall waved her wand again, this time banishing the wards. "So, are you ready to go?" she asked.

This time Harry nodded as he began to pull himself out of bed. Then he flushed as he realized he was still wearing the hospital gown.

"Would you like me to transfigure that into a set of pajamas?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Harry nodded quickly. Then, once he was dressed more reasonably in a set of pajamas, he finally pulled himself out of bed.

"How am I getting there?" he asked.

"You will be using the floo in Poppy's office," Professor McGonagall said.

"Alright," Harry said. He assumed it must be safe to floo from there, since Professor McGonagall had taken care to not discuss things in the open air of the Hospital Wing.

Before he knew it, Harry was being whisked away from Hogwarts– and the potential for him to attend a detention– to the safety of Grimmauld Place.


AN: writing this was honestly an emotional rollercoaster, like Harry just feels things and keeps on feeling them and to convey the feelings properly i end up feeling them too so it was just a big oof field– like when umbridge comes into the hospital wing and spews her bs everywhere, really wanted to punch her. but at least harry got to have a pleasant dinner with mcgonagall and pomfrey :D

please review! and make sure to check out my tumblr, waitingondaisies for sneak peeks and updates!