Fifty reviews? Oh, my word! I love you people! I don't think I've ever gotten 50 reviews for anything!

Thank you so much, each and every one of you, from the one-worders to the longest ones. They all mean a great deal to me.

CatSamwise: If you recall where you thought you'd seen something similar, I'd appreciate it muchly if you could send me the link? I'd never want to infringe on someone else's hard labor.

SutekhSnape: Excellent. Hope we'll be seeing you in Wave VIII, the Sex and Sensuality challenge.

Again, thank you one and all. Hopefully, this little bit will clear up some questions; let's just say driving isn't the only thing that doesn't mix well with drinking.

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The first time he woke it was to the sound of a blacksmith hammering next to his ear; clang-clang! Clangity-cla-clang!

Avada Kedava! He sounded the words in his head, willing them with all his might to strike down the person responsible for the infernal racket.

Clang! Skkreeeeeee-clang!

Damn! He cursed, before diving back into quiet blackness.

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The second time was only slightly quieter, as a voice he distantly recognized as Potter's was bellowing at someone, and that someone, a vaguely familiar female voice, was shrieking back fit to shatter glass.

"How is he?" Harry whispered, leaning close to Madame Pomfrey's ear.

The medi-witch stopped knitting for a moment, the faint clicking of her needles absent for the first time in days before answering just as softly. "Much better. He awoke for a few moments earlier, and in fact," she glanced over at the man lying motionless in the bed, "he's awake now. Mostly," she added.

Harry followed her look with one of his own and frowned. "How can you tell? He hasn't moved an inch."

Monitoring spell, you idiot! Snape muttered in his head. For God's sake, didn't the boy—man! his subconscious reminded him—remember any of his training? Voldemort hadn't been dead that long.

Madame Pomfrey patted the young man's face and set aside her knitting. "Monitoring spell of course. Now if you'll give me a hand with him, I'll just give him a little something for the headache I'm sure he has. I'd wager it's several times worse than the one you had."

Are you insane, woman? Anything you could give me would kill me!

"Is that wise, Poppy? He got a pretty heavy dose of…whatever it was that knocked him out," Harry asked, moving to the bed and sitting on it carefully. "Severus always warned me about mixing sleeping draughts with pain relief ones."

Well Hallelu—what? Confusion joined the throbbing pain in his head and body as the bed dipped and he found himself fighting paralyzing nausea. He…would…not…vomit! It would be just too, too humiliating. Even with every bit of his steel-clad control in place it was a near miss as he fought his gorge back down. Warmth and hardness insinuated itself behind him and lifted his head and shoulders. Dizziness swamped him and he lost track of time, only to rejoin reality resting on something cool and silken, a comforting thud-thud echoing gently and distracting him from his headache.

"Here we go," Madame Pomfrey said, sliding one end of a straw into Snape's mouth and removing her finger from the other, letting the trapped liquid flow down her patient's throat. Cool, sweetened mint and the bitter tang of white willow encouraged him to swallow. He felt the potion sliding down his throat and outward from his stomach, unknotting muscles and soothing irritated nerves.

Or most of them, Snape thought. He had four or five he saved for special people and their irrational acts, and they couldn't be eased by any such potion. Still, no doubt they would stop bothering him as well once he'd died of an overdose from mixing medications.

"Poppy," Harry started, eyeing the potion she continued to drip patiently into Snape's mouth. "What is that?"

Mint and willowbark, comfrey and…goldenseal? Snape rolled the aftertaste around in his mouth, considering.

"Not a Pepper-Up potion?" Harry craned his head to watch their patient's reaction, clearly expecting steam to erupt from Severus' ears at any moment.

"Heavens no! He doesn't need it, and that would be dangerous, giving his heart that great a start." Poppy tsked at him. "Not that the lump has one," she added, only half under her breath.

"Poppy!" Harry scolded.

I heard that! Snape snarled. And why couldn't he get his eyes open? Come to think of it, why couldn't he move? The clink of glass on glass distracted him, and he gave up on opening his eyes. If only they'd mention what happened, he'd be able to cure himself.

"Harry, would you mind staying with him a bit while I pop over to Hogwarts?" he heard the witch ask from further away. "There are some things I want to pick up, since this seems to be turning into a long term situation."

Long term?

"Sure," Harry's voice echoed from the chest under Snape's head.

How long had he been unconscious? How long had Potter and Pomfrey been watching him? And how had they known to come get him?

"Your house is on the Floo Network, isn't it?" Madame Pomfrey asked. Snape could hear her moving around.

No doubt rearranging everything. I'll never get it straightened out, Snape grumped. Wait a second…Floo Network ?Your house? Where am I?

Potter chuckled under him, bouncing his head painfully. "It is, but only certain rooms. Try the hearth in the study; it's the most reliable."

"All right then, I'll return directly," Pomfrey replied, and then came the sound of a door shutting softly but firmly.

Quiet returned to the room and Snape felt his muscles slowly unknotting, helped by the warmth now drifting from the silk that surrounded him and the potion in him. The steady, gentle thudding and rhythmic rise and fall under his head, smooth silk and comforting heat under his head lulled him back towards sleep.

His pillow suddenly rose and fell sharply, jarring him back towards consciousness, then jounced him around when Potter chuckled grimly.

"Ah, Sev, if you could see me now you'd laugh your ass off," Potter's voice came from overhead.

You might want to share the joke before you assume so, Potter.

"First date tonight," Potter continued, "and I feel like a total idiot. Thank God Poppy was here, or I'd never have made it." He chuckled again, then sighed.

First date? You're blathering worse than usual, Potter, explain yourself.

First date, indeed! They'd only finished going through the letters just after lunch. Impossible for Potter to have already proposed a date with one of his prospective spouses, let alone gotten responses back.

"You should have seen the girls, Sev, when I told them. I thought Ginny and Hermione were going to pull me apart like a wishbone until Poppy interceded. I wasn't sure my wardrobe was going to survive the fight, but they finally decided on grey and I look ridiculous, although they all assure me that's not true. I wish I could get your opinion."

Another sigh lifted Snape's head and shoulders before fingers he knew were strong enough to snap bone began to card gently through his hair, moving the few strands that had fallen onto Snape's face back into place. They caught in a snarl and there was silence while Snape imagined Potter's face as he concentrated on separating the strands before smoothing them.

"It's been three days, Sev. I wish you'd wake up. You're starting to worry me, and even though Poppy isn't saying anything, you're worrying her, too."

Snape heard the door open and close, then quiet footsteps in the room.

"Mr. Potter? Harry?" Madame Pomfrey's voice, softened to sickroom level.

"Here, Poppy." Cloth on cloth rasped Snape's ears and he lost time while his head was gently jostled then settled against body-warmed cotton. The material smelled slightly spicy, much as Har--Potter had when he'd been playing pillow.

"Best hurry along, dear. Don't want to keep the young lady waiting."

"I don't see why not, Poppy; it's not like she's going to stand me up."

Snape scowled mentally at the bitterness he heard in Potter's voice. Maybe the brat had been serious about giving it all up to escape an unwanted marriage?

Of course he was! Snape snarled at himself, Potter is bloody Gryffindor incarnate, believing in love and duty, and that the two should go hand in hand no matter what the universe dictates. Idiot child!

More rustling, and Snape could imagine Pomfrey giving Potter a sympathetic hug.

"Go on now, soonest started is soonest done," Pomfrey told the young man she cared for like a son. "I'll be right here with him until you get back."

Snape pictured Potter's nod of agreement as he walked to the door.

"Oh," Potter's voice came from where Snape had heard the door earlier. Was his hearing getting sharper? "I should have that list of ingredients that were exposed in the explosion for you tomorrow."

"Good, good; we'll start on it first thing. Now run along, Mr. Potter, enough stalling."

"All right; 'night Poppy."

The door opened and closed, and Snape felt himself sinking back into darkness, the strain of keeping himself awake and aware pulling at him. The last thing he knew was Madame Pomfrey's ever-annoying tongue cluck and her cool touch on his forehead.