Thanks for your patience gang! Writing Harry for me is daunting at best, and overwhelming and terrifying at it's worst. Our beloved JKR has set the standards incredibly high, and I need to be in a specific mood to attempt to pull this off. I have unfortunately been experiencing the emotion known as "happiness" lately, and it has really buggered my writing style! I will work harder to be more miserable for the remainder of the winter- Bloody sunshine! Anyways, here we go for another round of Potterangst!
Harry Potter is More Than a Little Tired
"Really Severus, what possessed you and Albus to neglect having a proper certified medi-professional check the boy over? I wouldn't dare imagine your response if I began assessing and certifying all of the potions ingredients which arrived for school use without the involvement of our Potions Master? I would be afraid to leave the Hospital wing for fear of being hexed blind. Really! The gall of you two – how completely stunning, that he has a severe infection as a result of sealed wounds which were not cleansed with disinfecting spells and antibiotic dusting powder?"
"Poppy, if I may…"
"No Severus, you may not! I have work to do here, and I must move quickly if I am to prevent permanent nerve damage to the wrists and hands."
"Poppy, I insist."
"Severus, seriously! Leave me alone to my job with young Potter. How did you say these wounds occurred again?
"He, rather, he lost control of his broom while staying at the Muggle residence and he erm, went through a window. Really rather fortunate that he thought to break the fall rather than go through the glass face first."
Clucking her tongue, Madame Pomfrey motioned at the cowering house elf in the corner of the room to assist her. Severus didn't even bother to offer his assistance at this point. To do so would further annoy an already seriously annoyed matriarchal witch. A dangerous move for any wizard. He felt compelled to speak in the Headmaster's defence, and clearing his throat began to do so.
"Poppy, I must let you know that Albus was only made aware of this situation earlier today. He is not responsible for the lack of tending to the infection. "
Silence fell heavy over the room, almost masking the rasping breaths of the delirious boy who lay shaking in a fevered sweat. Only Severus' keen awareness from years of spying on the most dangerous and deranged wizard in living history allowed him to notice the momentary hitch in the woman's repetitive opening, cleansing and debriding of the wounds on his charges arms.
"Well, if we are lucky, the boy will regain full use of his hand. It really is a serious infection." Her voice softened slightly, and she looked over at the dark, angst-riddled man in the corner. He truly looked distressed over the matter, and it appeared as if he had not eaten, or slept properly in a significant amount of time. "How did you wind up with this charge, Severus? I would have expected Minerva, or even Hagrid to have come to his aid. You seem a strange choice."
Severus flinched unintentionally. The concept of Hagrid handling a situation as sensitive and inflammatory as this was ludacris. It would be all over the daily papers in no time flat, and the boy would have bled out in the time the oaf would have been wailing over his state. No, the boy might be out of his mind, but his owl was truly omniscient. Bloody lucky for all of them, and Severus proceeded to tell that to the Medi-Witch. He stepped closer to the bed, careful not to interrupt or interfere, but it was fascinating to watch the red lines recede back towards their source, and then be drawn out by Poppy's methodical wand movements.
"You are wonderous.:" He spoke fluidly under his breath. "An under-rated art form, Poppy. To watch you work is to watch the most skilled witch of our time."
She blushed despite herself. Severus complemented no one, and the truth was, she felt a great respect for her chosen profession, a calling to it, and the knowledge that she might be saving the boy who would save their culture, heritage, their entire world, was on the brink of driving her to distraction. Severus taking the time not only to defend the Headmaster, accepting all responsibility for the boy (whom she had clearly noted he despised over the last 5 years, and, in her opinion, for good reason. He truly was a trouble maker, this son of James Potter, and that was indeed saying much. She had held little respect for Potter senior; in her opinion, a bully and a coward, to pompous and arrogant and uncaring by half. Too many students had arrived into her infirmary during his reign. Too many injuries and close calls, Severus had nearly been killed at his hand, twice, and had lived for many years with night terrors, anxiety and various physical wounds. Severus was also not a good man, however, his past dictated a certain future, and he had grown through the darkness to become, if anything, honourable. And in these times, that was indeed saying a lot. Being good was a nice touch, but being honourable kept those around you safe.)
Refocusing on the situation at hand, she drew the wand over the boys arm twice more, and then asked Severus to apply his most potent anti-biotic salve over the entire area.
"I should like to look back at this again in 24 hours Severus. If the infection attempts to take hold again, it will be far more serious the second time. Place continuous cooling charms over the boy until the fever breaks, and give him no other potions in the mean time. This should clear itself up, now that the worst is over."
Preparing to leave via the floo she arrived in, Madame Pomfrey bravely placed a hand on Severus thin shoulder. " You have clearly done the best you could, and I imagine the situation as it presented itself required some quick, brave and logical thinking in a desperate circumstance. Try to take a bit of rest, Severus. Where would the boy be if not for yoru selflessness? Don't look so stricken. The Headmaster should have been more aware to the boys' state. He could have acted had his attention not been diverted elsewhere. I will check in on you both tomorrow evening. Remember, no potions at this point. Good night, Severus. You are welcome." With that, the matriarch stepped into the dazzling emerald green flames and was gone.
Breathing a sigh of pent up anxiety, Severus turned around and relieved the dedicated Ninny of her duties for the remainder of the night, however long that may be. He was growing accustomed to meeting the sunrise in the wingback chair he had transported from his study. After having missed something as important as a severe infection, he swore he would be more diligent in his care of the boy.
It had been less than a minute since the house elf had been dismissed, all cowers and curtsies and undeserved gratuities, then the bane of Severus Snape's existence had roused from his sleep. Rushing to the boy, feeling the heat radiating off his body before he even touched the slick sweating brow, Severus was leaning over him to check his breathing. In this moment, the boy suddenly struggled and sat up, treating Severus to the fifth broken nose of his adult life, and a liberal dousing of vomit down the length of his robes. Pulliing back in pain, blood rushing forth to mingle with the bile soaking through the robes, Severus immediately regretted dismissing his servant, and wondered at his mashocistic side. Staunching the flow of blood with a spell, he began the duty of cleaning and replacing the bedrobes around his clearly unconscious ward. He wondered at what point in his life he could finally count his sins attoned, and have a small amount of peace in his life. He wondered at the amount of bile a boy who hadn't eaten for a day and a half could bring up. He wondered at the vast volume of blood the human face could gush forth. He regretted having worm his white silk shirt with the custom embroidery. Having cleaned, re-dressed and then re-checked Harry, he proceeded to allow himself the same luxury. The boy lay quietly now, and Severus felt comfortable enough to retreat to his chair an attempt a small rest.
On the edges of a fretful sleep, he jerked awake with a most disturbing thought. The entirety of Clan Weasley was due to arrive in less than 7 hours, and the boy who lived would be in no condition to receive them. All illusions of slumber dashed, Severus threw himself back out of the relative comfort of the chair and resumed his most favourite pastime to date : Pacing endlessly back and forth over the Persian carpet at the foot of Harry Potters bed.