A/N: Harry reawakens after his little outburst and the Vow resulting thereof.

12 – Reawakening No. 1

Harry opened his eyes bemusedly, wondering why he felt so different. So free. Then he shifted and stretched his wings out of habit, and realised, very suddenly, that he had not concealed his transformation last night.

If it had been night at all, when he'd woken up last in this place –

And then the burnt smell on the sheets was suddenly sharper than sharp, and memories of pure, unflinching anger and fire were suddenly chasing themselves down his thought passages, and Harry was rearing off the bed, unable to stand the smell, the reminder of his violence –

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Madame Pomfrey's irritated voice triggered even more guilt, more memories, and Harry suddenly couldn't hear what she was saying because of the roaring, rushing guilt whistling through his ears, the itching of the very skin of his body that concentrated around his right, which felt like those awful red flames were still binding his hand to Dumbledore as a disapproving Snape looked on suspiciously as Harry's hard voice continued to speak in clauses and terms and – "Potter, please calm down. Please – "

"What on earth is wrong with him now?" came Snape's voice from nearby, as Harry tried desperately to burrow into the darkness under the bed, ignoring the way his feathers were sloughing off in his struggle, ignoring the strong hands that were wrenching him away from the comforting, anonymising darkness just beyond, just out of reach – "Good god, Poppy, he's so pale – "

"Pale?" A gasp sounded over Harry's aching head as he struggled against what his mind dimly recognised as Snape's firm, detaining hands. "My goodness, you're right – "

"I thought he was asleep," Snape said, sounding weary as Harry gave up his struggles abruptly, realising they weren't working in the least. "He certainly seemed to need it after that little tantrum of his. Do you think it is withdrawal? That is the only thing that comes to mind – "

"Withdrawal, and the fact that he didn't take your Doxium," Pomfrey replied, sounding frazzled and farther away by the minute as Snape hauled Harry onto the burnt bed again. "If you hadn't been gleefully telling tales, you'd have known to actually give it to him, Snape – "

"How was I to know he would set fire to the room?" Snape said, sounding angry.

"I – " Harry felt himself say, horror seeping into his very bones as the images coalesced in his skull, into the picture of just that – "I wasn't dreaming?"

"Good god, it is withdrawal," was Snape's only answer. "Makes one wonder if withdrawal was not to blame for this morning's – "

"Hopefully next time you won't discount my advice," Pomfrey snapped, her voice sounding closer as the busy footsteps echoed in Harry's head oddly, as if it was emptying or already empty. Snape continued to wrestle him onto the bed, trying vainly to prop him up as his wings made things difficult, and Harry just felt oddly like he didn't belong in his body –

"What did I…" he began, and Snape laughed sourly.

"I find myself agreeing with you yet again, Poppy," he said simply, obviously not talking to Harry or even recognising that he was speaking at all. And that little slight suddenly made anger coil again in the pit of his stomach, and his hands itch to spout fire – "Don't you dare lose your temper again, boy," Snape insisted, finally settling him into a sitting position. "For all you know of your abilities, you could set fire to us and conflagrate even yourself, you foolish child – "

"Speaking to him like that will not help, Severus," Madame Pomfrey said tightly, approaching Harry with an oddly cautious bent to her shoulders, a goblet of something dreamy-smelling in her hand. "Do you feel up to holding this goblet by yourself, Potter? Or do you – " Snape snatched away the goblet before she could even finish what she was saying, setting it firmly on the bedside table and out of Harry's reach as he turned to glare at him. Harry found himself unusually willing to glare back – how dared he –

"I will only offer this once, Potter," the firm, almost calm statement jarred Harry out of his gathering temper, making him stare, surprised, at the glaring man before him. "If you have any sense, you will take advantage of it."

"I don't need – "

"Think very carefully about the absolute stupidity of that statement, Potter," Snape cut in, voice still calm. "You nearly murdered Madame Pomfrey mere hours before now. With a smile on your face, I might add." Harry shut his mouth, cold guilt and worry seeping through him as he looked down at his clenching hands.

It felt so, so different to have someone say it out loud. To have someone call him that –

Murderer –

"Dumbledore believes," Snape continued, voice displaying a very real disgust, "that you are competent to deal with your little tantrums when they occur. Dumbledore believes," his dark eyes bored into Harry, "that the knowledge of the Vow will keep you from such actions in the future."

"Obviously, you don't," Harry pointed out, trying to ignore how hoarse he sounded. How weak. "Just get on with it – "

"I offer, therefore, to aid you in discovering what you can about your…situation as a half-phoenix." Harry looked up sharply, hating the way both joy and pride mingled in his heart at those words, the way even his skin seemed to bloom with fierce acknowledgement of that fact, the way a corner of his mind mourned that the potion that had done this had been stronger, had affected him more – "Until you know the root of your impulses and how they affect you, you will be unable to control them, and you will never overcome the dependency you eventually develop for my potion, Potter," Snape continued matter-of-factly, ignoring Harry's embarrassment. "Which is why I am now offering to help. To train you. Do you accept, Potter?"

"Professor," Harry said slowly, shame returning abruptly as he remembered – "I didn't – I would like to apolo – "

"Save the relief of your pathetic guilt for someone who cares, Potter," Snape sniffed, rising from the chair Harry hadn't really noticed he'd been sitting in. "I assume that that means you accept?"

"Um – "

"Splendid," Snape said, cutting him off again with a look that said that he felt it was anything but. He sighed as he handed Harry the goblet, giving him a sharp look as he fumbled slightly with it. "And no, before you ask, Dumbledore did not put me up to this." Harry, already set to drink down the potion in his hand, paused and shut his mouth, trying not to grind his teeth and shout in vindictive joy at the same time. The perceived betrayal still lingered oddly from the events beforehand, and despite the fact that training or working with his hated professor would be anything but pleasant, it gave Harry a very visceral satisfaction to know that it wasn't Dumbledore's idea.

Harry downed the potion, trying not to look anywhere in Pomfrey's direction as she levitated it off his bedside table, where he replaced the goblet. His head still ached, but with less insistence and far less emotion than before, and he could almost feel the tingles of magic weaving itself into his tired body as Snape stamped about the room, mixing this and that, gathering up ingredients from here and there that Harry couldn't remember seeing from the first time he woke up.

"Poppy, I must be going," Snape said firmly, lingering oddly beside the door as Madame Pomfrey began to Scourgify everything seemingly in sight. "The brats should be returning from Hogsmeade right at this moment, and I must – "

"Hogsmeade?" Harry interrupted, heart sinking within him. "But I thought that was on Saturday…" he trailed off as Snape levelled a scathing look in his direction. "Oh."

"Don't tell Albus anything," Snape added easily, almost familiarly, as Madame Pomfrey gave him a dubious look. "Let the old meddler find out when next the boy almost kills someone else, so I can gloat properly." Pomfrey shook her head disapprovingly, but huffed in a sound Harry could sort of tell was meant to be affirmative. "And Potter?" Harry looked up, feeling vaguely guilty for listening to that little, oddly private exchange. "Do try not to kill yourself or your Matron before you are released."

Harry bristled half-heartedly as Snape left, smirking. Another potion was set before him, causing guilt to wash over him again as Pomfrey gave him a sort of 'drink it, and drink it now' look.

"Erm," he began lowly, as she turned away after watching him struggle down the slightly lumpy potion with a very severe look on her face, "I think I should apologise – "

"I'm afraid I'll ask you to save it as well, Harry," Madame Pomfrey said, very seriously. Harry's shoulders drooped. "As long as you keep yourself out of trouble from here on, I'll be quite satisfied…Mr. Potter, what on earth do you think you are doing?"

Harry paled, paused in the action of rising from the bed. Her tone of voice had been so final that he'd assumed he was practically being booted out of the Wing for now.

Apparently not. "You're not leaving until Professor Snape has had a good look at your scar, Potter, I assure you. Make yourself comfortable." And, though the last sentence was said in the tone of an unmistakeable command, Harry found himself obeying with good grace. It seemed, his phoenix mind cautiously thought, that his vassals had finally remembered their place.

Well, one of them, at least.

Preview of Chapter 13: Back to School, Redux

Ever since the Vow, everything had become even more distorted than usual. Harry turned abruptly, heading for the library, not even registering the way people slipped out of his way. It was like he'd been living in a sparse, yet familiarly furnished dream world before the evening when Pomfrey, Snape and Dumbledore had met with him after his second fit of drowsiness. Now, however –