Surreality
By Perse
Chapter 6
oOo
"Nasty fall you took, Mr. Potter. I know Quidditch is a rough game, but you really must be more careful."
He squinted, trying to identify the speaker. She seemed to realize the problem and handed him his glasses. Once they were on, he recognized Madame Pomfrey.
She raised an eyebrow. "You broke a couple of ribs and took quite a hit to the head. You'll be staying with me for the night, so you may as well get comfortable."
She strode off to the other end of the wing, where a couple of other beds were occupied. Harry stared after her, then eased himself back onto the pillow with a painful sigh. He wondered how long he'd been out, for it was already getting dark outside.
He shivered involuntarily. One might think he'd be used to the hospital wing, what with the roughness inherent in Quidditch. But he still hated the isolation of a curtained-off bed in a sterile room. When he'd been little, he'd had two parents, a godfather, and an 'uncle' all hovering over him. He supposed he'd been rather spoiled by that. Now, he hated being alone when he was sick or hurt.
Swallowing his emotions, he tried to get comfortable. It wasn't possible. He was cold and he seemed to ache everywhere. Every time he shifted, pain flared somewhere else and he woke completely.
This went on for an appalling amount of time. He kept expecting Madame Pomfrey to come back and perhaps offer him a potion to help him rest, but she didn't.
Finally, he heard footsteps approaching. He looked expectantly towards the curtain, but he was quite shocked by what he shortly spotted.
"Sirius?" he said in surprise.
Sirius put a finger to his lips, then moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed to talk to him in a quiet tone. "McGonagall called your Mum and Dad. Lily wanted to come out here herself, but we talked her out of it."
Embarrassing as it would have been to have his Mum here fussing over him, he almost wished for it. He hurt and he was lonely.
As if reading his thoughts, Sirius patted his head and said seriously, "We'd never leave you alone." After a moment to let that sink in he continued, "We convinced her that I would be the better choice, since I'm able to get in and out without anyone noticing."
"You don't think anyone will notice you?" Harry asked dubiously.
"I don't think anyone will much mind a stray dog."
Harry smiled. "Ah, so I'm going to have a big living teddy bear?"
"I am not a teddy bear," Sirius growled, reaching to tickle his side. He was gentle, mindful of the injuries, but as Harry wriggled away he jarred his ribs and winced through his giggles. Sirius relented immediately.
"I thought you were here to make me feel better," Harry complained, grinning to let his godfather know he was teasing.
Sirius smiled slightly, but asked seriously, "Are you hurting?"
"Yeah," he confessed. "But it's not your fault. I've been hurting since I woke up."
"Hang on a minute, I'll be right back." With that Sirius stood and slunk around the curtain, out of Harry's sight. He returned a few minutes later with a vial in his hand.
Harry eyed it warily. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"It's a simple painkiller. Trust me. I spent plenty of time here between James and his Quidditch injuries and Remus' monthly trips; I know what Poppy gives for pain."
Harry accepted the vial, downing the foul-tasting stuff in one gulp and handing it back. Sirius laughed at the grimace on his face, then reached to arrange his pillows and shift him back to a prone position. "You need to get some sleep."
"I've been sleeping all afternoon," Harry complained, even as he stifled a yawn.
"You've been unconscious all afternoon. There's a difference," Sirius corrected. He carefully pulled Harry's glasses off and sat them on the bedside table. Then he leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on Harry's forehead.
With that he slipped off the bed and moved a couple of feet away. After checking to make sure that no one was coming, he shut his eyes and shortly transformed himself.
Harry wished for a moment that he had his glasses back. Watching Sirius' transformations had intrigued him since he was a toddler.
A moment later, a big black dog padded to the bedside and with one leap brought himself up onto the mattress.
Padfoot gingerly arranged himself alongside Harry, avoiding bandages. He nuzzled Harry's neck, and Harry wrapped an arm around the furry, warm body.
"Just like a big teddy bear…" he said with a sleepy smile.
He got a lick in his ear in return.
oOo
Harry woke clutching for something warm and fuzzy. It wasn't there. It took him a few moments to realize that it never had been.
With that realization came the now familiar sinking feeling in his stomach and the setting-in of the ache in his heart.
He shut his eyes against an unwelcome pressure. He would not cry. That would only make him feel worse—especially since his head already ached.
He sat up with a slight groan and groped for his glasses, discovering that he really was in the hospital wing.
He heard voices near his closed curtains. After a moment he identified them—Dumbledore and Snape. Wondering if he was developing a nasty eavesdropping habit, Harry nevertheless grew still and very quiet as he listened closely.
"He actually fell asleep in midair on his broom? We are certain he did not pass out?"
"Madame Pomfrey says there is nothing physically wrong with him, other than the injuries he received in the fall," Dumbledore responded.
A sigh. "This situation may be even more dire than I feared. I would not have thought he was to the point of falling asleep involuntarily."
"I thought he fell asleep in your class?" Dumbledore put in, a hint of a smile in his voice.
"I doubt he had much desire to stay awake there," Snape put in snidely. "But while flying…"
"Yes, this has progressed into a rather disturbing problem. The question is how best to help him?"
"I've tried to teach him. I cannot teach what he does not want to learn."
Harry's brow furrowed. It wasn't that he did not want to learn—it was that Snape's methods left much to be desired.
Dumbledore responded, "Let's forget the Occlumency for a moment. In fact, let's put aside magic entirely. I think this solution may be much simpler."
"And what might that be?"
"He needs in reality what he is receiving in these dreams. He needs to feel loved, Severus."
Harry was rather put out by this. After all, he was sixteen. A 16-year-old did not need to be cuddled and comforted like a child.
But then, he had never been cuddled as a child. He shifted uncomfortably, thinking about the dreams. After a moment, he was forced to admit to himself that perhaps that was exactly what he did want.
Dumbledore's insight was truly eerie at times.
But, as he wanted this from dead people, he didn't see how Dumbledore could solve the problem.
"Ah. So…" Snape sounded decidedly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. "You should speak to Granger and Weasley, then."
"I will. But I think they are already doing their best. What Harry needs is a familial, parental sort of love. The dreams focus on adults, do they not?"
"That seems to be the case. So…what? He has mentioned Lupin. Perhaps you should bring him out here. Or the Weasleys. Molly is not needed on other pressing Order business."
"Both good suggestions, perhaps worth exploring. But I have another, more convenient one. It is you he must learn to trust, Severus. It is you who must teach him. It is you he needs to feel comfortable with."
It took Harry a moment to catch Dumbledore's meaning. Then he nearly fell off the bed in shock. The old wizard must have finally lost it. He wanted him to bond with Snape!
Judging by Snape's next words and the shocked dead silence that preceded them, his reaction was similar. "I am not the 'cuddly' type, Albus. Especially not with Potter." Harry could hear the sneer in his voice. "And even if I were thus inclined, he despises me."
Hadn't they been down this road before, hadn't Dumbledore learned this lesson? Snape could not even tolerate him, let alone care for him. Harry tried to put 'Snape' and 'loving' together in his head. It did not compute. In fact, it made him want to laugh.
"Severus," he heard Dumbledore sigh. After a few moments of silence he spoke again. "You have taught him to occlude his mind before sleep, yes?"
"Of course. But he has yet to do it. And he won't now—he has no desire to."
"I think he may now. That fall should convince him that there is some danger, especially with Mr. Weasley's involvement. Perhaps he simply needs someone with him—immediate help with the occlusion as he goes to bed."
Harry was frowning, wondering what Ron had to do with anything, so he didn't catch the unspoken suggestion as quickly as Snape did. There was a beat of silence before the Potions Master said with a healthy dose of cynicism, "Albus, what are you suggesting? I do hope you aren't planning to move me into Gryffindor tower."
"No, no. But some move is perhaps in order. You have an extra room, do you not?"
Harry nearly choked.
Snape didn't answer right away, prompting Harry to lean closer, desperate to hear the response. Unfortunately he leaned a bit too far, and found too late that he did not have his sense of balance back yet. This time, he actually did fall off the bed.
He hit the floor with a thud and a gasp. It hurt far more than he might have expected. A second later the curtains were open and someone had knelt beside him.
"Potter, you are a disaster waiting to happen." Despite the words, Snape's touch wasn't rough as he gathered Harry in his arms. He lifted him back to the bed as if he were a small child rather than a gangling teenager.
Harry stared at him, befuddled and wondering if perhaps he were having some twisted dream now.
After placing him on the mattress, Snape promptly moved back. He stood in the corner, arms folded across his chest, looking as menacing as ever.
Dumbledore came to Harry's side as Madame Pomfrey bustled over. "Bad dream, Mr. Potter?" she asked, fussing with his covers and checking a bandage on his lower leg.
Harry felt the close scrutiny of both the men and flushed, looking down. "No."
"Good dream, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked acerbically.
Harry whipped his head up and around to look at him. The movement prompted a stab of pain that made him moan slightly as he shut his eyes, bringing a hand to his head.
"Yes, you whacked your head pretty good, to say nothing of your leg and ribs," Pomfrey informed him, grasping his hand and pulling it away. "You'll be my guest for the rest of the day and night."
And somehow, despite the pain, he thought that he would definitely prefer to be her guest than Snape's. Dimly, he realized that she was shooing both men away. He didn't look up to see Snape's expression. He did, however, look up when Dumbledore addressed him. "Harry? We will need to speak later."
He resisted the urge to simply nod and managed a quiet, contrite, "Yes, sir."
Dumbledore left slowly. Madame Pomfrey continued to fuss over him, prompting him to lay back down as she checked bandages. Unfortunately for her, she had just gotten him settled when a red head poked around the curtain.
"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, pushing himself upright with a grimace. "Are you okay?" he questioned, taking in the crutches and bruises his friend was sporting.
"I broke your fall…sort of," he confessed with a glance at his ankle. "But it's not serious. I'll be off of these things by tomorrow."
"Try the next day, Mr. Weasley," Pomfrey warned. "Longer, if you don't get back to your tower and rest." She turned from Ron, who had his mouth open in protest, to address Harry. "You'd have hit a lot harder if Mr. Weasley hadn't reacted so quickly. Though really, I wish he'd used his wand instead of placing his body between you and the ground." Harry looked to his friend, eyes widening as he realized what had happened. Ron flushed under the scrutiny and looked down. "You may stay for a moment, Mr. Weasley, but Mr. Potter needs his rest as well." With pointed looks at both of them, the Medi-Witch left them alone.
Ron hobbled closer and hitched up to sit on the edge of Harry's bed. "She's overreacting, mate. I'm fine."
"Yeah, sure," Harry managed softly, his attention caught up in the dark bruise on Ron's left cheek. His friend was hurt because of him.
"I heard Hermione yell and turned in time to see you fall. I didn't have time to fish out my wand," Ron said in explanation.
"I fell asleep," Harry said dumbly, still finding it—and the consequences—difficult to grasp.
"And almost broke your neck," Ron said jokingly.
Harry, however, couldn't joke about this. "Both out necks," he said softly. "Both of us."
oOo
Harry spent the rest of the day in that bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't seem to sleep. Every time he started to drift he jerked awake, remembering that that was what had put him here.
And yet, part of him desperately wished for his dream-world. Especially when reality got most unpleasant again, and Snape came stalking in.
Harry froze, then looked beyond him in desperate hope of seeing Dumbledore appear as well. If he had to have this conversation, he certainly wanted the older wizard there.
But apparently it was just him and Snape. He watched the Potions Master apprehensively as he approached.
He reached for the water glass on the bedside table, needing something to do other than stare at Snape. He occupied himself with taking long sips, trying to ignore the face that Snape was now looming over him, staring at him darkly.
Finally he spoke, "Do you understand what happened today, Potter?"
"Yes," Harry said softly.
Snape studied him intently. "You have let this go much too far. Do you realize that you could have killed Mr. Weasley today? Do you even care anymore?"
"Of course I do!" Harry exclaimed, a slightly desperate tone in his voice. The glass in his hand began to tremble along with his hands.
Snape noticed and took it from him, placing it back on the table. Harry didn't protest. With an unreadable expression the older man said, "I will begin working with you again tomorrow. For now, I want you to take this."
Harry looked uneasily at the vial he had produced.
"For Merlin's sake Potter, I am not trying to poison you. It is just Dreamless Sleep."
Harry almost balked. He didn't really want to have a dreamless sleep. He wanted a refuge from all of this; he wanted his comfort.
But…what if they were right? He had put Ron at risk today, not to mention everyone else. The pain he still felt told him that there was definitely some risk here, no matter how much he didn't want to believe it. What if Snape was right?
He didn't want to think about it. But that was all right, because he didn't have the strength to think about it right now. His mind was fuzzy. And he hurt—he wanted to rest. So he finally nodded his ascent, and accepted the vial.
oOo
to be continued