Harry Potter is More Than a Little Tired
Chapter 16
Embrace
The house elf was ensconced, after much heated insistence(I's is NOT needing a chair master Severus!) in a chair at Potter's bedside, while Severus himself attempted to get two hours of uninterrupted sleep before administering the next round of potions to his charge. The room he had chosen was the first guest room; directly across the hall from his personal quarters which his teenage house guest currently occupied. There were no more than three strides between the doorways, twelve from bed to bed.
The boy had been relieved of his charm-induced sleep upon the Weasley's decision to leave the manor, yet he slept on without disturbance. Severus had begun to note his focus slipping after the debriefing, and made the decision that sleep in a proper bed was required. Clarity was something which potions and medicine required – there was no room for a lack of focus, and distraction was deadly. Without turning back the coverlet, Severus was asleep within moments of lying down. The room was bright as the curtains hadn't been drawn and it was early afternoon yet the exhausted man slept hard.
It was a rare occasion where he was not disturbed by nightmares and illusions, where sleep came without copious amounts of borderline illegal sleep remedies. An overtaxed body won out over the stressful overactive mind, and he awoke slowly hours later, the house silent and the sky black beyond the windows. It was a slow realization that he was not in his bed at the school, nor his quarters at the family manor. He sat up abruptly, and then everything from the last 48 hours flooded him. The fever, the coronary, the Weasleys… How long had he slept? What had gone wrong with Harry during that time? How many potions was the boy overdue for? Swinging his long legs over the bed and straightening his robes as he stood, Severus swept across the hall and into the adjacent room.
It was with great relief that he noted both the house elf and ward were where he had left them. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room showed 3:25, and although a brief annoyance flashed through his chest that the elf hadn't woken him within 2 hours as he had requested, Severus found he was pleased to have slept 12 hours straight through. He couldn't remember the last time he had done that and not been recovering from a curse.
Approaching quietly, not wanting to startle the elf into histrionics and thus Potter, he spoke softly. "It is late Ninny, how is the boy faring?"
"I is letting you sleep master! You is exhausted, you is not always healthy either and needs rest! The boy is sleeping all night, without waking up or calling out. He is not dying while Ninny watches him. Master Severus was sick also when he was a boy; Ninny was not letting him die! Ninny is a good house elf; she is knowing how to care for sick boys!"
"Thank you Ninny, you have preformed admirably through this ordeal. I will resume my duties with the boy – you are relieved of all household chores for the remainder of the day, as I wish you to rest. Please do not disobey these orders!"
"Oh yes, Master Severus is far too kind! He is a good wizard, he is kind to the elves! Please be calling Ninny for anything you or the boy will need!"
"I will Ninny – you are dismissed." With that, the elf snapped her fingers and popped out of the room to her own sleeping area. Moving his wingback closer and conjuring a pot of Breakfast Tea and the latest copy of Ars Alchema onto the bedside table, Severus readied himself for a morning of taking vital signs and reading up on the latest Potions theories.
Hours had passed in this fashion, and as the sun began it's ascent in the sky, breakfast appeared on the table for him. Grateful that the elf remembered food for him (he never would have) Severus organized his boiled eggs onto the well buttered toast when he noticed a shift in the boy's breathing pattern. Looking up and expecting the boy to be regaining consciousness, he was unimpressed to note the boy's skin had taken on a waxy tone, and his breathing had grown shallower. Setting his breakfast aside, he began taking vitals. The boy's skin was hot and clammy, and upon listening to his lungs Severus noted there was a raspy shallow quality to the lungs which hadn't been there the day before. Apparently the boy was indeed now ailing from pneumonia as a result of the aspirated vomit three days previous.
Leaving both the boy and the now congealing poached eggs behind, he took the shortcut to his Lab and went to the section which contained all his antibiotics. Severus' home laboratory was no less stocked than a Muggle pharmacy – he had almost every chemical concoction known to man stored there, with the appropriate cooling or heating charms applied as needed. When used aggressively as treatments, his potions could do the work of more potent Muggle drugs in half the time.
Storing the various vials in a small metal container, he returned to Potters room, which was quickly beginning to smell of illness again. Casting a refreshing charm to counteract the increasing scent of ill health, he went to the boy's bedside. Unable to rouse the boy from his unconscious state, Severus carefully placed an arm under his back, and drew the boy forwards so that his from was draped over a darkly clad shoulder, arms around the older man's neck. With the boy in this position, Severus could rearrange the pillows so the boy would be resting upright, enabling him to breath easier. As Severus went to lay the boy back onto the freshly fluffed feather pillows and pulled back, Harry resisted weakly, arms feebly clasping around his neck in an embrace. Uncertain, Severus moved to extract himself from the boy's grasp but stopped when he heard his charge whimper in response. Unaccustomed to any attempt at affection, even one so deluded, Severus sat with the boy's head on his shoulder, left arm and hand slowly going numb from the weight. He shifted slightly, hoping to detach the boy, as Harry had begun to get feverish and sweaty, the smell of sick intensifying and causing Severus' stomach to churn uncomfortably. This time the boy cried out, and tears leaked from under heavy lids. Confused but determined, he succeeded in propping Harry up in his bed, smoothing the hair which had glued itself onto the boy's brow and pulled the bedding up under the boy's chin. These movements seemed to settle the child, and Severus moved to douse him with the potions while his patient was so acquiescing.
That last difficult task completed, Severus dimmed the remaining lights from the room, drew the curtains and sat listening to the rasp of Harry's breathing by the light of the fire.