Chapter 11 – Blood Poison

"Potter. Potter!" Hands shaking him, drawing him out of the dark and terrifying place.

"Potter! Potter, you must wake up! Potter, come now! Time to wake up." It was so hot, and dark, and he felt so ill…His blood was boiling, he was boiling, and the world was on fire. It would be too much effort to try and open his eyes; everything hurt, everything spun around him. Couldn't he just sleep a few minutes longer? He didn't have the strength to cope with his aunt, uncle and cousin today; too sick, too tired, too hot… too sick, too tired…hot, hot, hot.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled groggily. Unawares of where he was or who was attempting to rouse him, Harry assumed the worst and began with a disjointed apology. The safest bet was to apologize first, and then work out whatever travesty had passed. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. Please don't be angry! I didn't mean too, honestly. I didn't know it would..." The words trailed off into and incoherent babbling.

Sorry? What the hell was he sorry for? What trouble could the boy have gotten into since Severus had left him sleeping only four hours previous? None of the wards had gone off, and Ninny hadn't come to get him. Calling on all the patience he possibly could muster on no sleep and under moderate stress, and the knowledge that he had left a potion at a most inconvenient time. Pinching the bridge of his nose as hard as he could without drawing blood, Severus tried again. "Potter! Wake up this instant! Wake up!"

"I'm sorry; I'll go start breakfast immediately. I'm sorry I slept late. Is bacon, eggs and toast alright? I promise I won't burn anything. If you leave me then I will get dressed and prepare breakfast before Dudley is up. I don't need to eat, I'm not hungry."

Breakfast? What in Hades is the boy talking about? And who in Merlin's name is Dudley? Sounds like something you would name a moron. Or a dairy cow. Or a moron. The boy is on fire with fever, and concerned about cooking breakfast? His eyes haven't even opened yet! Whatever is the boy ranting about?

Not that Severus was anxious to look into those eyes right now. After years of trying to catch Harry off guard, he could hardly believe the thought of looking into those bright green eyes turned his stomach. He had often attempted to find out what sort of trouble Harry had been into with his two little buddies (the golden trio as they were called together), or hopeful he might divulge the secrets the blasted boy held.

Legilimancy had its shortcomings, and Severus felt himself battling an urge most powerful; although he was once a master at it, he now found controlling the ability was nearly impossible.

Like an addiction, it called to him. Powerful, strong, seductive and sweet. Purred ideas into his mind flooded his senses with an overwhelming need. The need to know all. Everything. Ever. He couldn't help himself sometimes. They didn't even know what was happening. Longings, desires, fears, hatreds, dreams, wishes, memories…. Memories so devastating that even they themselves didn't know consciously that they possessed them. He knew all these things and more. Knew more than he wished he did, more than he ever imagined he could. He hated it, he loved it, it sickened him, it tantalized him; it took quite a while before he regained control over his life so that is wouldn't completely overtake him. A necessary perversion, Dumbledore also possessed the ability. Severus felt that the Headmaster abused it more wantonly than he did; there were a few lines even the Potions Master refused to cross. Dumbledore was above nothing. He would do whatever it took. No matter how severe the violation.

'Hard to read a book with no writing, Severus' he thought to himself, and then angrily blocked the thought. Drawn from his private lab by Potters late-night screams rebounding throughout the halls of the manor, Severus had taken the direct passageway into the boy's room, fear striking through him. It was illogical, but he had immediately assumed that there had been a security breach, that perhaps Malfoy, or worse, Voldemorte himself had been alerted to the boy's presence and state. Wand at the ready, Severus had sprung from the door hidden in the wall panel and had been stunned to find that….

The boy was still in his bed where Severus had left him. Relief flooded the man, and no small amount of anger at the realization the boy wasn't being murdered or tortured. Standing there reeling from the adrenaline rush, trying to lower his heart rate and control and violent throbbing which ran from his temple to the base of the spine and back again, he nearly jumped a foot when the boy began thrashing and let out another deafening shriek.

Knowing the secrets of the universe or at least of every wizard, witch and child around him was as alluring as any offering of galleons and sickles. In the beginning, it owned him. He was hell-bent on exposing everything; it possessed him, like an incessant itch which never left. A niggling thought at the back of his mind was always there, or rather, a soft soothing serpents tongue caressing him. What is he hiding (from you)? What should you know that they aren't telling you? What secrets (do they have)? What do they know (about you, which you don't want them to)? His insecurities fed the fire; there is nothing as voracious as self-glorification and nothing more powerful than being able to Lord over someone their basest desires.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Leaping into action, Severus was consumed by the need to stop the screaming. There had been too much screaming, so many screams in his life; he couldn't cope with the sound in his last sanctuary, his home.

Trying a different tactic to draw the boy out of his state, Severus spoke. "Breakfast is already cooked, Harry, and everything is fine so don't panic…worry yourself." Taking the sarcasm out of his general speech pattern and forcing his tonality to stay light, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and soldiered on. "However, it really is necessary that you wake up." Clearing his throat, Severus touched the boy's firey brow and added "please."

Harry's struggling stopped, and he suddenly went still. After a few moments, his breathing slowed, and the drawn look over his features faded. Severus stepped back from the bed, stunned. 'Bloody hell' he thought to himself, 'it really is a magic word!'

Rolling onto his side, the boy-who-lived cautiously opened his eyes. He blinked slowly, lazily almost, and then confusion dawned over him "Professor Snape?" he asked incredulously. "What are you doing here?" Panic began to creep into his voice, and he sat up abruptly. "You need to leave sir, you can't be here. If the Muggles find you, then, then..."

Snape's retort was cold, calculated and denied any argument. "Then I shall kill them."

The boy's erratic behavior was cause for concern, and Severus seriously contemplated that idea that the dreamless sleep potion had corrupted, which could have resulted in not only nightmares, but a furthering of Potters delusions. The only way to allay the boys fear was to play along with the fantasy and let the boy trust him to keep him safe. It was a risky idea, and one that Severus didn't cherish. He had seen a spark of something in those eyes as the boy had awakened. The nothingness had been replaced with… abject terror. The current expression on Harry's face led Severus to speak again.

"No harm shall come to you here, Harry. I personally guarantee it, and would be willing to swear on a Wizards' Oath. I know you understand the magnamity of my swearing to this. No one will harm you, least of all a lot of pathetic Muggles." Disdain was heavy in his voice, and Severus could read that the boy believed him.

"I am going to ask Ninny to bring me a calming potion for you. I am deeply concerned that this stress has negatively affected your recovery. Do not fear, Harry; I will not leave the room, the house-elf will bring the necessary potions to us. You will not be alone; you will continue to be protected."

Harry suddenly took a great gasp of air, threw off the bedclothes and bolted towards the door. Stunned, Severus watched as he collapsed to the floor and began retching hard.

Whatever had assailed the boy in his dreams had upset Harry to the point of physical sickness. There would be a process of discovery to understand what the boy had been dreaming about, and whatever past experiences had triggered his reaction, but the time was not now. In three strides the Potions Master had crossed the room, draped his robe over the boy and cleaned the area with an authoritative "Scourgify!"

Great tremors shook Harry's body as he fell face forwards onto the floor and the retching ceased, his skin turning grey. Severus gathered the boy in his arms and carried him back to the bed. 'Still a mere wraith,' he thought to himself as he covered the shaking body with the velvet covers. Ninny appeared beside the bed, emitting a small squeak upon noticing the state of the boy.

"Yes, Ninny, it is a serious as it appears. The trauma suffered had been more than just physical. I may need you again this night. Thank you."

Curtseying low, great tears rolling down the normally reserved elf's face, she backed out of the room and shut the door with a small click. She had become accustomed to her masters gratitude, and had learnt not to over-react to it. There was nothing her master hated worse than overt emotionalism, and her prostrations towards him had earned her nothing more than a lecture on self-respect in the past. The small elf often marveled at her incredible luck that the younger Snape was so much kinder than his predecessors.

The boy had curled himself up tightly on his side, two bright spots on his cheeks standing out in sharp contrast to the pallour of his skin and midnight hair. Severus took a tightly clenched fist from under the covers, and lightly flicking his wand uttered "Obliterate!" to remove the bandages swathing the arm. As they disappeared, he lightly held the wrist between his thumb and forefinger. There was a pulse, light as a fairy and fast as a jackrabbit. And Lords, but the boy was literally on fire. If nothing was done to calm the fever, irreparable damage would occur. And what would Albus do without his precious knight in the chess game known as their lives? Without Harry, all of wizardom would surely fall into a chaos, and eventual obliteration. They would inter-breed themselves into extinction if Voldemorte had his way. Looking at the shuddering, thin, weak figure in front of him, Severus highly doubted that their great white hope would do better than get a job at a local convenience store at the rate he was going. Most likely, he would be a bed-warmer at Saint Mungo's along with the esteemed Gilderoy Lockhart.

Harry was a child. Simply put, a child. With stresses upon him no adult should face. He was loath to admit it, but his nemisis' son was more victimized, more used, and more a pawn in Albus' games than he. Severus had willing placed himself into Albus' manipulative hands; one bad choice led to another, and he had prostituted himself to the light in an attempt to atone past sins. The boy, on the other hand… he simply had the unfortunate luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The boy's mother had saved him, yet he was lauded for it; Severus had believed Harry's bad press, refused to look at the truth because of past prejudices. Well, you're paying for it now, my boy! He heard himself say. Indentured slave to the Boy-Who-Is-Hell-Bent-on-Dying! At the rate he was going, the kid just might succeed, too. Severus did not want to think of the consequences should the boy pass.

Severus went to place the boys hand back onto the coverlet when the black night robes the boy was wearing fell back to reveal an angry bright red line running across the wrist. Long thin red striations ran length-wise up the arm and down into the palm. He had forgotten a sterilizing charm when he had healed the wounds, and the right wrist was terribly infected. Stunned at his stupidity, dumb-founded that the boy hadn't said anything; 'but of course he didn't Severus' he chastised himself 'he was, after all suicidal, delusional and disassociative.' Severus actually doubted that the boy would have noticed, given the distraught state, or alternatively entirely disinterested state the boy was in.

Knowing that for once the skills required to treat Harry were beyond his skill level, and that his limited Medi-Wizard training would not permit opening, cleaning and debriding the serious infection from the arm, Severus was left with only one choice. Walking over to the large marble fireplace on the far wall, he removed the wards which blocked all wizards from not only using, but blocked all awareness of, his private entrances to the Floo network. There was only one person who could repair the damage, and maintain the level of discretion that they all required. Tossing a handful of the glittering powder onto the dull embers remaining in the grate, he called out,

"Poppy Pomfrey, Hogwarts infirmary!"