[_]
The following day, Snape was feeling a bit better -particularly as a result of a most entertaining dream he'd had of a peacock being chased by a big, black bat. He was even able to eat half a boiled egg, and a piece of toast.
The gel Pomfrey had used on his arm had managed to keep the burning sensation of the Death Mark to a minimum. He'd only woken up once or twice in the night, and this morning, it wasn't bothering him at all. Perhaps the Dark Lord had given up... for now.
Pomfrey looked rested as well; after a couple of difficult nights, both she and her slightly irascible patient had gotten close to eight hours of sleep.
"If you'd like, we could sit on the terrace for a bit this afternoon. Lovely day... Fresh air would do you good," she said.
"Fresh... air?" he said, enunciating the words with pursed lips.
"Yes, you know, ruffles your hair, and puts a pink glow in your cheeks."
Snape looked as though she'd given him a spoonful of brine.
"I think not."
"Well, maybe you'll change your mind later," she said.
Predictably enough, at around ten o'clock, Snape found himself ensconced in a chair, shielded from the sun by a black parasol. He was covered in blankets, a Slytherin scarf draped around his neck.
Had he no power over that woman? No wonder he usually stayed as far away from the Hospital Wing as possible. But he was at her mercy now, and she was obviously milking that for all it was worth.
Though, well... The damnable fresh air was nice.
"All right, Severus?" she was saying now, poking her head underneath the parasol. "I've brought you some lemonade."
"If it makes you happy. Not that I have any choi-"
"You have a visitor."
Snape at once imagined Dumbledore walking on to the terrace and pictured himself grabbing the old man by the front of his robes, demanding to be released from Pomfrey's care.
But the mediwitch said, "It's Miss Granger. Apparently you've become a fan of Sherlock Holmes."
Snape groaned. He sank deeper in his chair and burrowed in his scarf until it came up to his eyes.
"Come over here, Hermione," Pomfrey said. "The professor's been anxious to find out what happens in the next chapter."
"Really? Oh, I knew it!" the Gryffindor said, sauntering into view. "It's a really good part, professor."
"Miss Granger," came Snape's muffled voice. "I am a little tired."
Her face fell.
"But..." he said, after hesitating for a second, "Do go on. I hope you won't be offended if I drift off in the middle of your narrative."
"Of course not, professor."
"Well, I'll just go sort out your latest package, Hermione," Pomfrey said, and left them alone.
Hermione was about to start when Snape said, "Miss Granger... Madam Pomfrey had to use one of your Muggle ointments last night, it had an ingredient I can't recall. She called it miraculous... Asporan..."
She blinked and then said, "Oh, I think you mean Aspirin, professor."
"Ah, yes. That's it. I was wondering... Surely books have been written about this medicine?"
"Yes, sir. Would you like me to bring you some?"
"Yes. If you don't mind, Miss Granger."
"I'd be glad to, professor." She paused and said, "I hope you don't think I'm being... uh, overly inquisitive..."
To her surprise, she saw the corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly, and she knew he was smiling.
"Well, sir, I wanted to ask why you were curious about Aspirin."
He remained silent for a while and she was afraid she'd been impertinent. Finally, he said, "Miss Granger, yesterday evening, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named summoned me, and somehow, your ointment calmed the burning produced by the Dark Mark."
Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed. "You were summoned?"
He nodded, and sighed. "I am aware, Miss Granger, that I am... a harsh man. But I am indeed grateful for your help, and... Perhaps calling you a little know-it-all has not been one of my most appropriate statements."
"I, sir... I have been known to, well, to talk too much sometimes," she said, looking down at her feet.
"I know what it is to be under appreciated, Miss Granger. However, I assure you that the entire faculty knows that you are one of our most gifted students, and you must not worry about impressing us any more than we already are."
Her chest hitched, and he thought he heard a sob.
Well, Severus... you make them cry no matter what.
He reached over to her and quickly patted her hand twice. "There, there. Tears are not necessary, Miss Granger."
"I'm sorry, sir," she said, wiping her eyes.
"Why don't you read the next chapter of your book for me now?"
She busied herself with the thick book on her lap, flipping through the pages with clumsy fingers, and began to read.
[_]
A day later, Pomfrey had to admit defeat. The Potions Master was well enough to go back to his dungeons.
"You still need to take it easy for a few more days," she said. "In case you've forgotten, you were seriously ill-"
"Yes, I know, Poppy. On the verge of death," he said as she helped him dress. "I promise to be good, and not exert myself needlessly. And to come and see you the instant I feel unwell, which is highly unlikely, considering you were the one who cared for me."
"Severus Snape. Don't tell me you're trying to mollify me."
"Mollifying people is not a talent I possess."
"I guess I can't complain. I was able to keep you here almost a week, for once."
She adjusted his collar, and he cocked his eyebrow at her.
"Oh, one of these days, you're going to stay stuck like that," she said.
"If it hasn't happened yet, it never will. I've done it on daily basis during my potions classes for the past fifteen years."
"Impossible man."
"May I go now, Poppy?"
"All right, off with you then. And don't forget, if you-"
"Yes, mother."
The shocked expression on her face was priceless. "Humor, Professor Snape? Are you sure you're quite well? Plus I'll have you know that I'm not that much older than you."
"How disappointing. I've always preferred a mature woman."
She shook her head. "If your students knew that getting out of the Hospital Wing is all it takes to put you in such a good mood, there would be a lot more potions accidents in your class."
For a second, he looked deflated. He'd have to mop up after Lockhart now, no doubt. There wasn't a chance in hell that the gilded fool had followed the regular curriculum, although Dumbledore had said the children had been working harder than ever on their own.
"Severus? Is something wrong?"
"Hm? Oh, no. I was just thinking about Lockhart wrecking my dungeons..."
"Now don't you start fussing, professor. I want you to rest until monday at least."
"I will... rest... until tomorrow. Not a day more."
They glared at each other like the French and the English during the Hundred Year War.
"I have not put my foot down often in your case, if ever. But-" she said more loudly before he could interrupt her, "the fact is, I am in a position of authority at Hogwarts."
"I am going to my dungeons now, and will wait until tomorrow morning to grade the towering pile of essays I know Lockhart has graciously left on my desk. He is much too preoccupied with his own reflection to perform his duties."
"Why is it so hard for you to relax?"
"Because," he said, teeth clenched, "I don't like to be alone with my thoughts. Does that satisfy you? I don't expect you, or anyone, to understand."
"In that case, I have the perfect solution for you. Dinner's on me this weekend."
"What?"
"If you need a little distraction to keep your mind off things, I'm volunteering for the job, Severus."
He sputtered. "I- Poppy- this is... I don't mean to insult you, but allow me to decline-"