I have been reading a lot lately and stumbled upon some stories I had forgotten that I ever read. I felt quite miserable, that everything has been said and done before, but nonetheless ... I decided to endeavour to rise above it:-)

But I also realized how much I owe to Jade 1x2 and her fabulous Harry and Snape stories, and that I haven't given her due credit before. I do so now, most humbly.

http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=172638, most of her work is here, but there is a new story on the fest, which is wonderful too.

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Harry knocked on the door of the private rooms of Snape. His heart pounded and not from running. Had he got that right? Did Snape want him to come here? He could not be sure. The man was such an enigma. But he would learn soon enough. If he had been mistaken, he would have his tail off in a trice. Well, if the wards didn't kill him first. Severus Snape knew some spectacularly vicious spells to secure his privacy.

But apparently he had got the gist of the intentions of the Potions teacher. The wards gave a sigh when he pressed his hand to the door and opened without another sound. Harry looked perplexed. This was very un-Snapish.

He entered the rooms and was greeted by another loud and painful sounding sneeze. Harry looked around. The professor was nowhere to be seen. Not in front of his endless bookshelves, a favourite pose of his. Nor in one of the chairs circling a small table where he had guests for tea - if he had guests. Nor at the imposing desk where he worked.

That left not too many possibilities. A very naughty smile crossed the face of Harry Potter. He followed the sound of the nose blowing. It was not to be missed.

When he crossed the threshold to the bed room he was greeted by the dark eyes flashing angrily at him. The black was as black as always, if glazing a little feverishly, but the white was slightly red. As was the nose – red and raw from the blowing. Imposing, nevertheless. The lips were tightly pressed together, if in anger, as usual, or to hold back another fit of sneezing or coughing, Harry couldn't tell.

Severus Snape was wearing a night shirt in the green of his house, a colour that didn't much flatter his complexion at the best of times. His sallow skin now reflected the green of the shirt, with red spots on the top of his cheeks.

Harry felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth, and another feeling in another part of his body. He walked over to the bed, not put off by glaring alone. He was quite used to that by now.

"Poor baby", he said, sitting down on the bed, "such a bad cold you got".

The black eyes narrowed menacingly. "And whose fault is that, pray tell?" A pathetic cough escaped the green-clad chest.

Harry heaved his shoulders in a mixture of sympathy and disgust. That really sounded awful. "Mine", he said, in a strange singsong. "Mine, mine, and always mine".

The thin mouth curled and set anew, the lips suddenly looking much softer and broader than before. The words lush and luscious came to Harry's mind unwanted. He cleared his throat and licked his lips. As was to be suspected, the black eyes did not miss one bit of this display. The lips opened. "Yes", the low, soft, if a little rough voice said with relish. "And don't you dare forget that."

Harry shrugged his shoulders again and made a show of rolling his eyes in exasperation. "How could I? You're shoving it into my face at every opportunity."

All four eyes blinked a bit, then two resumed staring coldly, two looking innocently. Two throats moved hastily, if inconspicuously. The air was dry in the dungeons, after all.

"I'm just trying to teach you the concept of responsibility, Potter. Belatedly, as I have to admit, but better late than never, as that Muggle saying goes."

Harry snorted. "Aren't you fed up with teaching me, after all? Hadn't had enough of that already?" He tried to make his best poker face and failed rather ridiculously at it. A smile tug at his mouth stronger then before.

One corner of the other man's mouth went up. "Even my personality, strong as it is, Mr. Potter, seems to have succumbed at last to the daily ordeal I have taken upon me. I seem to have become a teacher at heart, much to my chagrin."

Harry shifted on the bed rather uncomfortably. The sight of the man and his voice did nothing to make sitting in his presence any easier. "You seem to have acquired quite a knowledge of all things Muggle, it seems to me. How come?"

A ghost of a smile in the face before him. A sneer, more likely. "There's this new teacher, you see? Blackmailed me into listening to many things about Muggles."

Harry grinned. "Blackmailed you? How on earth did he do that?"

A deathly glare, only slightly disturbed by a fit of spraying coughs. "I'm sorry. But if you hadn't come here to bother me in the first place, you wouldn't have got that on you. And don't ask me about that piece of blackmail. It's much too dark a secret to reveal to anyone."

Harry's grin grew broader still. "Even to me?"

The glare flared up. "Especially to you, Professor Potter. And as you are here, after all, pestering me with your insolently healthy presence, perhaps you would be so kind as to help make up for some of the predicaments you brought onto me. Otherwise – bugger off."

Harry gulped. The man had a way with words. Well, the tone helped, too. It lulled you in, until you were nearly drowning in the sweet satiny waves, and then gave you the hard punch into the stomach. Inevitably.

"Of course I'm here to help", he said in a neutral tone.

The man could snigger despite his condition. "Surely the whole of the staff sent you to help me? Please, Mr. Potter, don't insult my intelligence."

"Would never dream of it, Professor." Harry stood up and went over to the bathroom. "By the way: Call me Harry or Professor Potter, will you? You called me Potter during my years as a student here, and even if this is hard news to you, I am a teacher now. Just as you are."

Being on the threshold to the bathroom, Harry couldn't really understand the mumbling that followed that announcement. It was not needed. He could think of some things Snape might have said.

He entered the bathroom and looked for a piece of cloth and a glass. He found both and used the tap to fill the glass and wet the towel. He re-entered the bedroom under the extremely suspicious eyes of Severus Snape, sitting upright in his bed and looking as if he was about to fly away.

"No way", Harry said warningly. "We have an agreement. No wizard's ways for the weekend."

Snape fell back onto the bed. "I must have been completely mad when I agreed to that idiotic premise", he muttered venomously. "What an utterly silly, brain staggering … Potter idea."

"Thank you, Sir", Harry said cheerily and wrung the cloth. "Your idea, as I recall it, was of course completely sane and well thought out and all that. But you lost, unfortunately."

A groan. A deep heartfelt groan or so it sounded. "Don't remind me of that, Potter. I'm sick. Don't I at least deserve some quiet and peace if not sympathy?"

Jesus, the man could look miserable, if he set his heart on doing so. Harry touched his forehead to feel the temperature. Just like Aunt Petunia had done in his childhood with her uncaring hands. Well, a little softer. He didn't hate Severus, after all, not like Aunt Petunia had hated him, even if he had found out only recently.

He couldn't discern if the man had a fever or not. And he was sure, Aunt Petunia couldn't feel that either. But it sure felt professional, pretending to do so. The more so when the poor bugger to whom he pretended he could do it, had not the faintest idea of what he was doing and looked at him as if he was willing to bite his nose off, if only he felt like he could. And Severus Snape was a man of his word. He had lost and now he had to endure whatever Harry was to do to him. Had to stand ministrations he had never had forced onto him in his whole life. Not like Harry, who had survived his childhood in that dismal Muggle family, who only touched him to hurt him.

Harry had a very nasty grin on his face. Now was the time to have his revenge. Revenge on the teacher who had made his teenage life a misery with the methods of the Muggles who had made his childhood life a misery. What a very Slytherin way to act. He was sure Professor Snape would appreciate it, under different circumstances. As it was, Harry was not about to tell him of his train of thoughts. Torture under the pretence to do him good, to heal him, which was enough for his Gryffindor conscience. Yes. He was grown up now, he could choose from different things to do.

He chose to let his fingers linger a little longer on the forehead in question. Pale, hot and a little sweaty. He refrained from stroking back the damp hair. No need for that just now.

He took the cloth he had taken from the bathroom and put it onto the forehead. The black eyes sparked menace. "What do you think you are doing there, Potter?" It seemed to be not the time for Professor, nor the situation for Harry. Or the other way round. Harry smiled wryly. "Taking care of you, Professor, what else would I be doing?" He could do innocent after all, he was still only just about 20. And his eyes could be as big and green as with 11.

Not that they ever could fool the black eyes that narrowed in front. "Indeed, what else would you be doing? What's that revolting cloth for? It's wet and cold. Surely not even Muggles could be so dumb as to believe it could do any good to feel something so disgusting, when you're feeling bad enough already?"

Harry grinned. "Always the believer, are you not? It's supposed to bring down the fever." He pushed the cloth and the forehead underneath a little harder. The dark eyes glittered viciously but the mouth stayed shut. Something to be proud of.

Harry fumbled in his pockets for something that had cost him quite a time to get. No Berty Botts beans, that would have been much easier. He opened the lid of the little tin and plopped one tablet into the water glass. It began bubbling and the haughty profile looked extremely suspicious. "And what's that, Potter? Will you push that down my nose to make it de-swell?"

Harry chuckled. "Good idea, Prof, we'll leave that for next time, if nothing else works. No, this one is for drinking. Here". And with that Harry shoved the glass under the organ in question, which sniffed in disgust. It was remarkable at that too.

"You must be completely mad, Mr. Potter, if you think that I take anything that a dismal potions maker such as you has wreaked havoc in doing. Never in my life would I consider taking anything that has not been made by my one hands."

Harry looked taken aback, but only a little. "Including coffee? Excuse me Sir, but you are the worst coffee maker I ever encountered."

Professor Severus Snape looked down his nose at the insolent brat that was now a fellow colleague. "And you have plenty of experience with coffee makers, haven't you, Professor Potter?"

Harry blushed just a bit but held eye contact. "Only a little. But don't divert, take this. It hasn't been made by me, if that helps, but by some muggle factory that put all its knowledge into it. It is taken regularly by all the Muggles and nobody has died of it yet. Well, nearly nobody."

The black eyes looked at him without a motion. "Well, that is of course something completely different." The thin lips opened and a tongue was visible. Harry gulped and put the glass to Snape's lips. The other man swallowed obligingly. Harry let his eyes not pop out at the sight of the moving throat. No, he wouldn't.

Severus Snape rested his head back on the cushion and Harry put the glass on the night stand. Both men looked at each other expectantly.

"Well, now", the voice of the Potions master sounded as impatient as he looked. "Is that supposed to work in this life or after, pray tell?"

Harry snorted and looked flabbergasted at that. Since when had he taken to snorting? He shook his head in wonder and answered. "Well, Muggles are Muggles and not wizards for a reason. It will take some time before you feel a distinct change."

The black eyes glared. "Well, thanks for that, Potter. I am quite grateful that I am a wizard, or will be again, after this weekend is over, at least."

Harry smiled. "Now that is something, is it not? Professor Severus Snape is grateful for anything, we should call Rita Skeeter for an interview. 'Famous former death eater is grateful to be a wizard after all. Not especially known formerly for his gratefulness about anything, the hook-nosed Potions Professor at Hogwarts and bearer of the Order of Merlin Second class confessed to our reporter that after catching a cold in Muggle London and losing a bet to fellow teacher and former boy who lived Harry Potter, who subjected him to famous torture methods of the Muggle world to heal his former teacher, …'"

"That is quite enough, Potter", the nasal voice interrupted Harry before he could really warm to the idea. "Thank you very much for making my life even more miserable than it was before."

"You're quite welcome, Sir", said Harry and grinned.

The dark eyes narrowed menacingly. "I know that by now, but thank you all the same, Potter. I trust you couldn't and wouldn't refrain from mentioning your famous past, would you? I knew your modesty was nothing but fake. Plus: Contrary to popular opinion, my nose is not hooked."

Harry smiled and looked fondly at the organ in question. "Beg your pardon, Sire, I was talking in the voice of Rita Skeeter, not my own. Certainly she would peg me with that old infamous saying. And of course your nose is not hooked. It is hawk-like, and imposing, royal even, and quite nice. Other than that, I have often thought that you would make a wonderful Captain Hook."

The black eyes blinked irritatedly. "And who would that be? No, don't answer, please. I have enough of old Muggles in my head already, thanks to you."

Harry smiled and thought about the connotations this answer was given in his young head and body. He looked anxiously for signs of healing in his fellow teacher. Surely there must be something? Severus hadn't sneezed for at least …

"Harrumph", a giant snort ended his train of thought. "Bless you", Harry said automatically. If he had learned anything at all in the Dursley family, it was what they considered courtesy. Well, in him, at least.

After a nose blowing that seemed to take for eternity and bring down lots of fluids that rightfully belonged to the brain and made that going, the black eyes glimmered as menacingly as ever before. "Bless me? What idiotic saying should that be? I am not to be blessed under any occasion, is that understood? I am far beyond that. And do you have any idea what to do while we wait for this completely idiotic medicine of yours to work? Presumed that it does work at all? "

Well, Harry had, of course. Lots of ideas. "That depends if you feel cold or hot, just now, if your nose fluids flow freely – oh yes, they do, don't they? So that leaves inhalation out – and all that. Just tell me how you feel. Other than completely miffed, of course."

The eyebrow went up. The famous eyebrow, jet black and able to say much more than other people could with their mouth in a whole lifetime. In just one simple movement. "Miffed, Potter? That doesn't pin it in the least. I'm utterly exhausted and not a little frantic, yes, you could even say, I'm near to fuming. Does that answer your question?"

"As to your temperature, yes", Harry said coolly, under the circumstances. "Well that leaves warming you with extra-blankets or my young hot body out of the picture, does it not?" The eyebrow staid where it was and the mouth kept shut. Harry went on. "Well, that leaves cooling the body as well as the forehead. Bringing the fever out and down, you see. There are different methods, as I recall them. I could put a cold wet linen blanket, covered with a woollen one, around your legs. Or your torso, that would be even more effective."

Harry had just touched the areas in question slightly when the black eyes narrowed with something that could have been horror and a hand tossed away the coverings completely. "You must be completely out of your mind, Potter, even more than is usual even for you, when you even consider doing something like that to me. I have it that your name is right, after all: You harry me alright, but none of that just now."