A/N: Just a few notes to start out with --
First, this fanfic was heavily inspired by Lest I Wither, which can be found in my favorite stories list, and Falling Further In by KazVL, which can be found at schnoogle dot com. Both of these are fics that I enjoy very much.
Second, this fic begins near the middle of sixth year and is mildly AU. Most of the events in OotP are assumed to have occured except for one.
Third, just so you guys don't think me terribly inconsistant, there is a reason why Professor Lupin is once again the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, which I will address later.
Fourth, I'm not really sure if I'll stick with this title. Any suggestions are more than welcome. Constructive criticism is also welcome, so long as it's polite. :)
And, finally, this fanfic is likely going to end up being a slash-fic, mostly focusing on HP/SS with mild undertones of RL/SB. You've been warned.
Watching Me Fall
by dora
It did not take a genius to see that Harry Potter was having a very bad day.
At first, he wrote it off as simply getting too little sleep and wearing wet clothes too long after a Quidditch practice which rightly ought to have been cancelled due to the squall (which really was too nice a word for the torrential rain which bordered on sleet and the viscious wind). The practice had been on a Tuesday evening, but now it was Friday evening and Harry felt even worse than before. None of the other Gryffindor team members seemed to have been fazed, least of all Ron, who was currently teaching Colin Creevey some of the finer points of chess downstairs in the common room, so it seemed unlikely that the terrible practice conditions were to blame.
Harry grabbed the sweater Mrs. Weasley had made him for Christmas a while back and slipped it on over the rest of the clothes he was wearing. It seemed to help his shivering a little. "Well," he muttered to himself, "I guess I've gone and caught a plain old muggle cold." He sighed and flopped back onto his bed. "Five years without any problem and now I go and get sick. Just brilliant."
For a few minutes, he laid there on his bed, staring at the ceiling of his dorm room. He might even have begun to doze if Ron hadn't stormed in and pulled him off the bed and down the stairs. "C'mon, Harry! Hermione's been waiting on us for ten minutes, and she looks right angry about it."
"Er, what?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "Dinner! You weren't planning on skipping eating, were you?"
"Uh..." mumbled Harry. "Well, I hadn't given dinner much thought. I was sort of hoping to get some sleep."
His friend paused and favored him with a worried look. "Yeah, you don't look so good, mate. Well, just get some soup. It's what Mum'd tell you to do."
The idea of Mrs. Weasley hovering over him, making sure he was fed and hydrated and comfortable caused Harry to smile. "All right. Just because it'd make Mum happy."
They met Hermione at the entrance to the common room, her arms crossed and a sour expression on her face. "It took you both long enough. I have half a mind to leave you right now."
Harry leaned in and whispered, "What's her problem?"
Ron sighed and whispered back, "Didn't you hear? Viktor dumped her by owl this morning. Jeez, mate, you must be really out of it." To Hermione, he said, "Sorry, sorry. Harry's feeling under the weather is all."
This took the edge off of Hermione's expression. "It's all right. Should we take him to see Madame Pomfrey after dinner? I'm sure she has something for colds."
"Nah. I don't really feel like having my ears smoke all weekend, esepcially since all I really need is sleep," Harry replied. "And maybe some soup. Let's go."
It did not take Harry very long to realize that going to the Great Hall and trying to eat dinner was a serious mistake. Almost as soon as he sat down, his stomach started doing flip-flops, and it was a struggle to keep from spitting out his juice. Only five minutes after arriving, Harry excused himself and left before either of his friends could ask what was wrong.
He stumbled down the hall, his teeth clenched in an effort to keep the scant contents of his stomach from coming back up. The chills, which had only been minor until this point, threatened to overtake him. In fact, he shook so badly that he eventually had to sit down before he simply collapsed.
Unfortunately, once he was sitting on and leaning against the cold stone, he felt his chills more acutely. No matter how he struggled, though, Harry could not get his legs underneath him, nor could he steady them long enough for him to even stand. Finally, he settled for clutching his knees to his chest and hoping his shivering would subside on its own.
About half an hour later, Ron and Hermione found him huddled in a corner and seemingly asleep. When they tried to wake him so they could all return to Gryffindor tower, however, his eyes barely fluttered and Hermione noticed how cold and clammy his skin was. She sent Ron to retrieve Madame Pomfrey while she looked after Harry and tried desperately to wake him up.
---
Severus Snape did not take kindly to being woken up at-- he glanced at the pocket watch he'd set on his nightstand-- three-fifteen in the morning, and he took even less kindly to being woken up at three-fifteen on a Saturday morning. He climbed out of bed with a snarl and shrugged on a simple black robe over his night clothes. "For the love of God, Albus, come in and stop that incessant knocking! I'm awake already!"
When he stepped into his study, Albus Dumbledore stood before the fire, a terribly haggard look on his face. When he saw Snape, though, he smiled just a little. "Ah, good to see you, my dear boy."
Snape snorted. "What do you want, Albus? If this isn't an emergency I'll be forced to hex you into next year."
The headmaster's face sobered immediately. "Indeed, I fear this is a grave emergency."
Before he could continue, Snape interrupted him, "Oh, joy. What has that brat Potter or one of his equally bratty friends done now?"
"I fear Harry has fallen quite ill," Dumbledore replied.
One of Snape's eyebrows rose just a hair. "As I recall, that's what you hired Poppy for."
Albus nodded solemnly. "It's true, but we're at our wit's end."
The eyebrow crept up a little more. "'We?'"
"Yes. When Poppy couldn't find the cause of Harry's illness, much less do anything to sooth its symptoms, she asked me to summon Professor Lupin--" the muscle just underneath Snape's right eye twitched at the mention of that name, "-- and Professor Flitwick to see if perhaps he was under the influence of some sort of charm or hex. Neither of them turned up anything, of course."
"Of course," Snape muttered drily. "What else did you do, then?"
Dumbledore sighed, "Well, after that we called for Professor Sprout. Poppy thought, and I agreed with her, that perhaps some plant or another on the grounds could have caused this. We gave her a list of his observed symptoms, with which she absconded back to her office. She only returned a short while ago, saying that none of the plant life either on the grounds, in her greenhouse, or even at the edge of the Forbidden Forest should have caused such a reaction." The headmaster took a deep breath. "So here we are."
"Ah," said Snape, unable to find some sort of venomous retort. "I suppose you think that this is some sort of potion or poison?"
"Well," Albus replied evenly, "of the obvious possible causes for this illness, it's the only one we haven't ruled out. If you can't find anything, though, we'll have no choice to admit him to St. Mungo's."
"That idea certainly has merit," Snape mumbled, not quite caring if Albus heard him or not.
Albus did hear, however, and he heaved a very tired sigh. "Severus, please. I'm asking you this not as your employer, but as your friend. Could you set aside your grudge against the Potter family and lend us your expertise? I would rather find the cause of his illness and treat him here as discreetly as possible."
"Fine. I will do as you ask. But that does not mean I have to like my task, the Potter brat, or anyone else associated with that wretched family." He glowered at Albus when the man insisted on standing in his study. "Well, go on. I'll be there in a few minutes. I do not feel like greeting the rest of the staff and working in naught but my night clothes and a bathrobe."
The headmaster nodded as he headed for the door. "Please hurry, Severus. Things do not look particularly encouraging." Then he was gone.
As Snape had promised, it only took a few extra minutes to put on decent clothes and find his way to the infirmary. He was rather pleased that most of the people Albus had named seemed to have dispersed; the only staff in attendance were Poppy (for obvious reasons), Remus (the muscle under his eye twitched again as his gaze passed over the werewolf), and Albus (who looked more worried than Severus had ever seen him).
And, of course, at the center of it all, was Potter, tucked into one of the beds and looking absolutely terrible. His skin was pale, covered in sweat, and taking on a slightly green tinge. Every once in a while he would shudder convulsively, at which point Remus would lay a hand on his forehead and whisper soothing things until he stilled again. For a very brief moment, what remained of Severus's heart went out to the rather pitiful-looking pair.
That instant passed, and Snape settled into a brusque and professional mentality. "Where is the list of his symptoms?" he inquired in as polite a tone as he could manage so early. Madame Pomfrey looked up at him as though she were startled by his presence, but she did not hesitate to pass him a decently sized parchment covered in her loopy writing. Without looking up from the list, he shooed Dumbledore and Pomfrey out of his way and took the seat on the other side of Harry's bed.
"This could be any number of things," he finally concluded. Had he not been concentrating on the problem at hand, he might have taken some pleasure from the crestfallen look on Lupin's face. "However, I think we can rule a few things out, as well. If this is, in fact, a potion at work, we can safely assume that unicorn's blood was not involved. If it were, his reaction would have been more severe.
"We can also likely rule out any potion which uses the plants in and around the school, since you already said he isn't exhibiting the symptoms triggered by any of them. Speaking of which, I would very much like a list of those, as well." Madame Pomfrey nodded at Remus, who reluctantly left Harry's side and went to wake Professor Sprout once more.
Severus looked at the list of Harry's symptoms again. "Of course, this is all assuming that we are dealing with some sort of potion, which we have yet to really determine."
"What else could it be?" asked Madame Pomfrey.
"Has anyone considered food poisoning?" retorted Snape with a characteristic sneer. "Or a particularly nasty bout of the flu?"
Albus cleared his throat while Poppy glowered fiercely at Severus. "Do you think I didn't try to treat him for those things? I deal with them on a regular basis, Severus, and I refuse to stand here and let you insult my competence as a mediwitch."
"I apologize," Snape said, and his tone was only slightly sarcastic. "I was merely hoping that this would be something simple and that I could go back to bed before the sun rises." He shook his head. "I don't suppose you took any blood samples I could... er, borrow, did you?"
Satisfied that her co-worker was not calling her abilities into question, Madame Pomfrey nodded. "Yes, of course. Wait just one moment." With that, she walked away from the bed, taking care to close the curtains around it so that he, Harry, and Dumbledore were alone and isolated from the rest of the hospital wing.
After what seemed like forever (but was probably no more than ten minutes), Lupin returned, a rather lengthy scroll in hand. "She says that these are all the species she knows about," he said as he handed the paper to Severus. That done, he reclaimed his seat at Harry's bedside and took one of the boy's hands in both of his.
This elicited a frown from the headmaster. "Do you suppose I should call...?"
"Absolutely not," Lupin replied vehemently. "Not now. If things get worse..." He trailed off, clearly not wanting to pursue that train of thought any further.
Severus set aside the list of Harry's symptoms, once that exchange had finished, and began studying the list of known plant life on the school grounds. He was barely a quarter of the way through skimming the list when Poppy returned with four small vials, each filled with a dark red liquid. "If you need all of it, you may have it," she said, "but I would prefer to have at least one vial, just in case."
"That's fine," Snape said, nodding gratefully. "Two of them will be more than enough." With a curt nod in return, Madame Pomfrey left two of the vials in Severus's care and disappeared again (presumably to put the remaining two back where she kept them).
By the time she'd returned, Harry had begun to toss fitfully in his bed. No amount of soft words from Lupin seemed to help, and the werewolf seemed quite close to tears because of it. Finally, the boy seemed to seize up, every muscle in his body going taught. His eyes snapped open (Severus noted that they were extremely dilated, a symptom which had not been on the list), and he sat up, gasping.
Naturally, Albus and that damned werewolf took this opportunity to fawn over him. Severus took that as his cue to leave.
He considered leaving unannounced, but then realized that the boy might mention something important while he was awake. So he very politely tapped the headmaster on the shoulder to indicate that he intended to leave.
"Don't worry, we'll make note of anything that happens," Dumbledore said. "I just ask that you hurry, Severus."
Snape sighed. "I shall try. But only for you, Albus." Then, he left, black robes swishing behind him as he stalked off.
TBC
First, this fanfic was heavily inspired by Lest I Wither, which can be found in my favorite stories list, and Falling Further In by KazVL, which can be found at schnoogle dot com. Both of these are fics that I enjoy very much.
Second, this fic begins near the middle of sixth year and is mildly AU. Most of the events in OotP are assumed to have occured except for one.
Third, just so you guys don't think me terribly inconsistant, there is a reason why Professor Lupin is once again the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, which I will address later.
Fourth, I'm not really sure if I'll stick with this title. Any suggestions are more than welcome. Constructive criticism is also welcome, so long as it's polite. :)
And, finally, this fanfic is likely going to end up being a slash-fic, mostly focusing on HP/SS with mild undertones of RL/SB. You've been warned.
Watching Me Fall
by dora
It did not take a genius to see that Harry Potter was having a very bad day.
At first, he wrote it off as simply getting too little sleep and wearing wet clothes too long after a Quidditch practice which rightly ought to have been cancelled due to the squall (which really was too nice a word for the torrential rain which bordered on sleet and the viscious wind). The practice had been on a Tuesday evening, but now it was Friday evening and Harry felt even worse than before. None of the other Gryffindor team members seemed to have been fazed, least of all Ron, who was currently teaching Colin Creevey some of the finer points of chess downstairs in the common room, so it seemed unlikely that the terrible practice conditions were to blame.
Harry grabbed the sweater Mrs. Weasley had made him for Christmas a while back and slipped it on over the rest of the clothes he was wearing. It seemed to help his shivering a little. "Well," he muttered to himself, "I guess I've gone and caught a plain old muggle cold." He sighed and flopped back onto his bed. "Five years without any problem and now I go and get sick. Just brilliant."
For a few minutes, he laid there on his bed, staring at the ceiling of his dorm room. He might even have begun to doze if Ron hadn't stormed in and pulled him off the bed and down the stairs. "C'mon, Harry! Hermione's been waiting on us for ten minutes, and she looks right angry about it."
"Er, what?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "Dinner! You weren't planning on skipping eating, were you?"
"Uh..." mumbled Harry. "Well, I hadn't given dinner much thought. I was sort of hoping to get some sleep."
His friend paused and favored him with a worried look. "Yeah, you don't look so good, mate. Well, just get some soup. It's what Mum'd tell you to do."
The idea of Mrs. Weasley hovering over him, making sure he was fed and hydrated and comfortable caused Harry to smile. "All right. Just because it'd make Mum happy."
They met Hermione at the entrance to the common room, her arms crossed and a sour expression on her face. "It took you both long enough. I have half a mind to leave you right now."
Harry leaned in and whispered, "What's her problem?"
Ron sighed and whispered back, "Didn't you hear? Viktor dumped her by owl this morning. Jeez, mate, you must be really out of it." To Hermione, he said, "Sorry, sorry. Harry's feeling under the weather is all."
This took the edge off of Hermione's expression. "It's all right. Should we take him to see Madame Pomfrey after dinner? I'm sure she has something for colds."
"Nah. I don't really feel like having my ears smoke all weekend, esepcially since all I really need is sleep," Harry replied. "And maybe some soup. Let's go."
It did not take Harry very long to realize that going to the Great Hall and trying to eat dinner was a serious mistake. Almost as soon as he sat down, his stomach started doing flip-flops, and it was a struggle to keep from spitting out his juice. Only five minutes after arriving, Harry excused himself and left before either of his friends could ask what was wrong.
He stumbled down the hall, his teeth clenched in an effort to keep the scant contents of his stomach from coming back up. The chills, which had only been minor until this point, threatened to overtake him. In fact, he shook so badly that he eventually had to sit down before he simply collapsed.
Unfortunately, once he was sitting on and leaning against the cold stone, he felt his chills more acutely. No matter how he struggled, though, Harry could not get his legs underneath him, nor could he steady them long enough for him to even stand. Finally, he settled for clutching his knees to his chest and hoping his shivering would subside on its own.
About half an hour later, Ron and Hermione found him huddled in a corner and seemingly asleep. When they tried to wake him so they could all return to Gryffindor tower, however, his eyes barely fluttered and Hermione noticed how cold and clammy his skin was. She sent Ron to retrieve Madame Pomfrey while she looked after Harry and tried desperately to wake him up.
---
Severus Snape did not take kindly to being woken up at-- he glanced at the pocket watch he'd set on his nightstand-- three-fifteen in the morning, and he took even less kindly to being woken up at three-fifteen on a Saturday morning. He climbed out of bed with a snarl and shrugged on a simple black robe over his night clothes. "For the love of God, Albus, come in and stop that incessant knocking! I'm awake already!"
When he stepped into his study, Albus Dumbledore stood before the fire, a terribly haggard look on his face. When he saw Snape, though, he smiled just a little. "Ah, good to see you, my dear boy."
Snape snorted. "What do you want, Albus? If this isn't an emergency I'll be forced to hex you into next year."
The headmaster's face sobered immediately. "Indeed, I fear this is a grave emergency."
Before he could continue, Snape interrupted him, "Oh, joy. What has that brat Potter or one of his equally bratty friends done now?"
"I fear Harry has fallen quite ill," Dumbledore replied.
One of Snape's eyebrows rose just a hair. "As I recall, that's what you hired Poppy for."
Albus nodded solemnly. "It's true, but we're at our wit's end."
The eyebrow crept up a little more. "'We?'"
"Yes. When Poppy couldn't find the cause of Harry's illness, much less do anything to sooth its symptoms, she asked me to summon Professor Lupin--" the muscle just underneath Snape's right eye twitched at the mention of that name, "-- and Professor Flitwick to see if perhaps he was under the influence of some sort of charm or hex. Neither of them turned up anything, of course."
"Of course," Snape muttered drily. "What else did you do, then?"
Dumbledore sighed, "Well, after that we called for Professor Sprout. Poppy thought, and I agreed with her, that perhaps some plant or another on the grounds could have caused this. We gave her a list of his observed symptoms, with which she absconded back to her office. She only returned a short while ago, saying that none of the plant life either on the grounds, in her greenhouse, or even at the edge of the Forbidden Forest should have caused such a reaction." The headmaster took a deep breath. "So here we are."
"Ah," said Snape, unable to find some sort of venomous retort. "I suppose you think that this is some sort of potion or poison?"
"Well," Albus replied evenly, "of the obvious possible causes for this illness, it's the only one we haven't ruled out. If you can't find anything, though, we'll have no choice to admit him to St. Mungo's."
"That idea certainly has merit," Snape mumbled, not quite caring if Albus heard him or not.
Albus did hear, however, and he heaved a very tired sigh. "Severus, please. I'm asking you this not as your employer, but as your friend. Could you set aside your grudge against the Potter family and lend us your expertise? I would rather find the cause of his illness and treat him here as discreetly as possible."
"Fine. I will do as you ask. But that does not mean I have to like my task, the Potter brat, or anyone else associated with that wretched family." He glowered at Albus when the man insisted on standing in his study. "Well, go on. I'll be there in a few minutes. I do not feel like greeting the rest of the staff and working in naught but my night clothes and a bathrobe."
The headmaster nodded as he headed for the door. "Please hurry, Severus. Things do not look particularly encouraging." Then he was gone.
As Snape had promised, it only took a few extra minutes to put on decent clothes and find his way to the infirmary. He was rather pleased that most of the people Albus had named seemed to have dispersed; the only staff in attendance were Poppy (for obvious reasons), Remus (the muscle under his eye twitched again as his gaze passed over the werewolf), and Albus (who looked more worried than Severus had ever seen him).
And, of course, at the center of it all, was Potter, tucked into one of the beds and looking absolutely terrible. His skin was pale, covered in sweat, and taking on a slightly green tinge. Every once in a while he would shudder convulsively, at which point Remus would lay a hand on his forehead and whisper soothing things until he stilled again. For a very brief moment, what remained of Severus's heart went out to the rather pitiful-looking pair.
That instant passed, and Snape settled into a brusque and professional mentality. "Where is the list of his symptoms?" he inquired in as polite a tone as he could manage so early. Madame Pomfrey looked up at him as though she were startled by his presence, but she did not hesitate to pass him a decently sized parchment covered in her loopy writing. Without looking up from the list, he shooed Dumbledore and Pomfrey out of his way and took the seat on the other side of Harry's bed.
"This could be any number of things," he finally concluded. Had he not been concentrating on the problem at hand, he might have taken some pleasure from the crestfallen look on Lupin's face. "However, I think we can rule a few things out, as well. If this is, in fact, a potion at work, we can safely assume that unicorn's blood was not involved. If it were, his reaction would have been more severe.
"We can also likely rule out any potion which uses the plants in and around the school, since you already said he isn't exhibiting the symptoms triggered by any of them. Speaking of which, I would very much like a list of those, as well." Madame Pomfrey nodded at Remus, who reluctantly left Harry's side and went to wake Professor Sprout once more.
Severus looked at the list of Harry's symptoms again. "Of course, this is all assuming that we are dealing with some sort of potion, which we have yet to really determine."
"What else could it be?" asked Madame Pomfrey.
"Has anyone considered food poisoning?" retorted Snape with a characteristic sneer. "Or a particularly nasty bout of the flu?"
Albus cleared his throat while Poppy glowered fiercely at Severus. "Do you think I didn't try to treat him for those things? I deal with them on a regular basis, Severus, and I refuse to stand here and let you insult my competence as a mediwitch."
"I apologize," Snape said, and his tone was only slightly sarcastic. "I was merely hoping that this would be something simple and that I could go back to bed before the sun rises." He shook his head. "I don't suppose you took any blood samples I could... er, borrow, did you?"
Satisfied that her co-worker was not calling her abilities into question, Madame Pomfrey nodded. "Yes, of course. Wait just one moment." With that, she walked away from the bed, taking care to close the curtains around it so that he, Harry, and Dumbledore were alone and isolated from the rest of the hospital wing.
After what seemed like forever (but was probably no more than ten minutes), Lupin returned, a rather lengthy scroll in hand. "She says that these are all the species she knows about," he said as he handed the paper to Severus. That done, he reclaimed his seat at Harry's bedside and took one of the boy's hands in both of his.
This elicited a frown from the headmaster. "Do you suppose I should call...?"
"Absolutely not," Lupin replied vehemently. "Not now. If things get worse..." He trailed off, clearly not wanting to pursue that train of thought any further.
Severus set aside the list of Harry's symptoms, once that exchange had finished, and began studying the list of known plant life on the school grounds. He was barely a quarter of the way through skimming the list when Poppy returned with four small vials, each filled with a dark red liquid. "If you need all of it, you may have it," she said, "but I would prefer to have at least one vial, just in case."
"That's fine," Snape said, nodding gratefully. "Two of them will be more than enough." With a curt nod in return, Madame Pomfrey left two of the vials in Severus's care and disappeared again (presumably to put the remaining two back where she kept them).
By the time she'd returned, Harry had begun to toss fitfully in his bed. No amount of soft words from Lupin seemed to help, and the werewolf seemed quite close to tears because of it. Finally, the boy seemed to seize up, every muscle in his body going taught. His eyes snapped open (Severus noted that they were extremely dilated, a symptom which had not been on the list), and he sat up, gasping.
Naturally, Albus and that damned werewolf took this opportunity to fawn over him. Severus took that as his cue to leave.
He considered leaving unannounced, but then realized that the boy might mention something important while he was awake. So he very politely tapped the headmaster on the shoulder to indicate that he intended to leave.
"Don't worry, we'll make note of anything that happens," Dumbledore said. "I just ask that you hurry, Severus."
Snape sighed. "I shall try. But only for you, Albus." Then, he left, black robes swishing behind him as he stalked off.
TBC