Harry's fever persisted through the first night, not breaking until some point during the second. I stayed by his side constantly, sitting on the edge of the bed with him or bringing my chair over and playing beside the bed. Throughout the ordeal, Harry would look up at me, a smiling face behind his mass of sweat dampened bangs. I wondered how anyone could be so happy while he was ill. It was on third day when his fever had broken during the night that I asked him how he was feeling. He gave me a smile and said,
"Wonderful."
I scoffed,
"You can't be feeling wonderful, even if you aren't feverish anymore." He gave me an insistent look,
"But I do feel wonderful. I feel wonderful because you're taking care of me."
Before I could respond, there was a knock at the door. I sighed and stood up from the edge of the bed to answer it. When I opened the door, there stood a well-dressed but skinny woman holding a briefcase.
"Mr. Snape?"
"Yes," I replied, nodding.
"I'm Francesca Lenin from the Russian embassy. You wrote to us some time ago about sending your step-nephew back to Russia?"
I froze, groping for words,
"No… I mean, yes, yes, I did, but, it's alright now-"
"May I come in Mr. Snape?"
I hesitated, but realized I didn't have much choice,
"Yes, alright."
The woman stepped inside my apartment, looking around,
"This room and the bathroom are the extent of your quarters?"
I nodded,
"Yes."
"So the boy does not have his own room?"
"No."
"Where does he sleep?"
"Where you see him now."
The woman looked to Harry who sat up in the bed looking confused.
"I see. And where do you sleep?"
"The bed is more than big enough for us both."
"Hmm. Why is he in bed at this hour?"
"He's sick. He has the flu."
"Hmm," the woman replied again, scribbling something down into a notepad she had with her.
"Well, Mr. Snape, seeing as how you obviously don't have the capacity to house him, I'm sure your step-nephew can be deported. I'll be back with the subsequent papers in a few days."
The woman walked out, her high heels tapping all the way. I heaved a sigh when she was finally gone and looked to Harry. Without a word, I started packing his suitcase. Harry looked at me worriedly,
"I'm going back to Russia?"
I shook my head,
"You're going somewhere, but it's not to Russia. Just rest, I'll pack up your things."
Thus we found ourselves on Albus's doorstep. He was more than willing to let us stay once I explained the situation to him, and I soon found myself lying on his pull-out couch with Harry beside me. I had noticed that it had been some time since Harry had clung to the edge of the bed like he first did when he had to sleep in bed with me. There were, in fact, days I awoke to find his back spooned up against my front. I stirring I felt from that was one too physically obvious to ignore, and I would often roll over so that my back was too him to prevent him from waking up to find himself being poked by what was certainly no hand. That particular night, however, when Harry rolled over and began the process of backing himself up against me, I stayed still. I felt the familiar sensation in my nether regions, but I didn't turn over. In truth, I wanted to know how Harry would respond, if at all, to feeling my erection pressed against him. He paused as he was settling himself against me and I knew that he had felt it. He stayed stock still for a moment, before finally pushing his bottom cheekily into my crotch and sighing as he fell asleep in that position. It was a long, hard journey to sleep for me that night. No pun intended.
Thank you, Thank you, Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I deeply appreciate it. I originally rated my fic R just to be safe, but for those of you who are itching for some smut I am considering trying to make it earn its rating. Keep your reviews coming, they do inspire me to write more. Thanks again!
~Vero
