A/N: Hello again! It's been a while, I know. But the semester has finally ended, and exams are over at last. (What a traumatic experience that was.) Anyway, enjoy the new chapter!
Harry slowly eased himself back into a seated position on the side of the bed, his eyes darting warily from Madam Pomfrey to Snape and back again as he waited for one of them to start speaking.
"Have you been eating properly, Mr. Potter?" the mediwitch suddenly asked.
Harry frowned. "Ma'am?" he answered, slightly confused. He hadn't been expecting that question.
"According to these results, you are half-starved, child," the woman explained, her voice full of concern.
"To put it mildly," Snape drawled, as he crossed his arms and scowled down at Harry.
Harry had to fight the urge not to scowl back. What was Snape still doing here, anyway? Shouldn't he have returned to his dungeon by now?
"Well, Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey pressed, her tone now brisk and business-like. "When is the last time that you have eaten a proper meal?"
Harry frowned and stared down at his lap. His thoughts momentarily drifted to the summer holiday, when the Dursleys had refused to provide him with even a single decent meal.
And now that he was back in school, he had not yet regained his appetite.
"Harry?" the mediwitch's voice was suddenly much softer.
All Harry could do then was to manage a quick shrug.
"Potter," came the stern voice of Professor Snape.
And Harry found himself raising his gaze to meet that of the potions master.
The man was piercing him with a bone-chilling stare, his eyes shiny and dark as they glared down at the boy sitting on the bed. Harry was almost certain that the professor could see right through him. He suppressed a shiver and quickly looked away.
It was time for a bit of acting, he knew.
Harry let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, causing it to become even more messy and unruly than it had been just a moment before.
"I guess I just…haven't had much of an appetite since the end of last year," the boy said quietly, hoping he sounded convincing as he stared down at the hands he was twisting together in his lap.
"The end of last –?" Madam Pomfrey began to ask, before the realization dawned on her. The end of last year was when young Harry had faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
Again.
"Oh, child, I had no idea," the mediwitch said in concern. "I should have realized—"
"It's okay, ma'am," Harry interrupted, carefully keeping his eyes adverted as he spoke. "It's not a big deal."
And just as expected, that was all it took to send Poppy Pomfrey into a fuss. She swept over to the nearest medicine cabinet, all the while muttering aloud in a near-furious tone. "Not a big deal? Well, I never… And no wonder you aren't sleeping child! I presume that you have had some nightmares about the incident, as well?"
"Oh, uh, yeah…" Harry answered after a moment's hesitation.
Of course, very few of his dreams actually ever involved Voldemort, the boy couldn't help but to think to himself. Lately, anyway, his nights seemed to be mostly haunted by Uncle Vernon, tossing him out onto the streets. And then he would wander around in the dark, lost and cold and hungry, until he finally woke up in the Gryffindor dormitory, breathing hard, and his heart racing in his chest.
"Harry, dear?" Madam Pomfrey asked worriedly, walking back over to her patient, several vials held securely in her arms.
"Yes, ma'am?" Harry answered, still staring firmly at his lap.
"I need you to drink these for me, please. They're nutrient potions. You'll need to start taking them regularly now for a while."
Harry obeyed Madam Pomfrey without question, as the mediwitch continued to talk quickly and fuss over him. It seemed, among other things, that she wanted to arrange for Harry to talk to somebody about things.
He really didn't like the sound of that.
But finally, at long last, the woman paused in her speech, and Harry saw his opportunity for escape.
"I really should get going now, Madam Pomfrey," he said, finally meeting the mediwitch's eye. "I have a lot of homework to do."
"Oh, of course, dear," the witch replied almost absently, as she quickly scribbled some notes on a piece of parchment. "But I am ordering weekly check-ups—"
"What?" Harry asked in alarm. He didn't want weekly check-ups. He didn't need them.
"There will be no arguments, Mr. Potter," came the sudden harsh tone of Snape's voice.
Harry's head immediately snapped around. He had nearly forgotten that the potions master was still there. The man had been completely silent over the last few minutes, after all.
And he was still just glaring at Harry, the expression in his eyes completely unfathomable.
Harry didn't dare argue any further.
The boy sighed then, and stood up from the bed. "Goodnight, Madam Pomfrey," he said quietly. Then turning to Snape, he said, in an even quieter voice, "Goodnight, sir."
"Goodnight, Harry, dear," the mediwitch responded, as Harry began heading for the hospital wing exit.
He was nearly to the doors when Snape suddenly called out.
"One moment, Mr. Potter," the man intoned.
Harry froze in his tracks, suddenly worried. Was the man about to call him out on his story? He held his breath, then, his back to the professor. And waited.
"I hope you realize that you will not be permitted to participate in any athletic extracurricular activities for the time being."
A look of confusion crossed Harry's face as he took a moment to work out exactly what it was that Snape was saying.
And then he suddenly understood. And he whipped around to face his teacher.
"You're banning me from quidditch?" he nearly shouted.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape responded calmly. "For your tone and disrespect. And for your information, Mr. Potter, it is not my rule."
Harry turned frantically to Madam Pomfrey for confirmation. And the look on the mediwitch's face was not the least bit reassuring.
"I am afraid Professor Snape is right, Harry. Until you are healthier—"
"But I feel fine!" Harry protested. "You can't take me off the team."
"It is only temporary, child," Madam Pomfrey said sympathetically.
"Unless you continue to argue," Snape put in, a clear warning in his tone. "Then I will make sure that it is permanent."
"Now, Severus, really—" Madam Pomfrey began, turning to the potions master.
But the next moment, the mediwitch was interrupted by a loud bang, echoing throughout the hospital wing as Harry suddenly stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Harry couldn't help but to berate himself as he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. Snape was going to absolutely murder him at his next detention for that dramatic exit.
But thinking about what the man had said, about Harry not being allowed to play quidditch…. Harry could feel the anger boiling up inside him. And he found that he just didn't care about the consequences all that much.
It wasn't fair! Snape just wanted to give the Slytherin team a chance at winning! He didn't care about Harry's health!
How could he have ever believed that Snape might be a decent man after all?
Harry huffed in frustration. What was he supposed to tell his teammates? And all of Gryffindor for that matter? They were all counting on him to beat Slytherin in the first quidditch match of the season later this term.
And then the anger suddenly subsided as the memory of the entire hospital visit washed over him, and Harry felt nothing but a deep sorrow. He reached into his pocket and took out the picture of his mother. He sighed, then, and shook his head.
Someone had almost found out. Someone had almost discovered that his life with the Dursleys wasn't exactly ideal. He needed to be more careful. Because he was not about to let that secret get out.
It would be all over the school within hours…or minutes.
And that was the last thing that Harry needed right now.
He hadn't told a soul. Not Ron or Hermione, or anybody else in Gryffindor.
And yet, the very next morning, there wasn't a single person in the whole school that didn't know that Harry Potter was being temporarily suspended from the Gryffindor quidditch team due to "health-related" reasons.
"Is poor little Harry Potter too fragile and frail to play quidditch?" a girl from the Slytherin table had called out the second Harry had walked into the Great Hall.
And from there, it was all over with.
"What is she talking about, Harry?" Ron and Hermione had asked in unison.
But before Harry could respond, the twins and the rest of the Gryffindor team converged on him. Oliver Wood looked positively ill. He tried and failed several times to speak, while Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell spoke over each other, demanding to know if the rumors were true.
"Alright, you will all disperse immediately," came the authoritative voice of Professor McGonagall.
"But professor," Oliver finally found his voice, "there's a rumor that Harry is—"
"This is not the time nor the place to be having this conversation, Wood," McGonagall interrupted.
"But quidditch practice—"
"We will discuss it later," the woman said more firmly. "Now, don't you have a transfiguration exam to study for?"
Oliver mumbled a response before finally turning around and heading back to his seat.
"Come with me, Potter," McGonagall said brusquely, heading out into the entrance hall.
And with practically the entire school staring at him once again, Harry turned and followed, ignoring the questioning looks on his friends' faces as he did so.
"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Harry asked, when he was finally seated in the transfiguration professor's office.
McGonagall waved her wand, and a plate of toast and a bowl of eggs appeared on the desk in front of her. She pushed both of them closer to Harry, and then conjured a goblet of pumpkin juice.
"I thought you might appreciate a quiet place to eat breakfast, Mr. Potter."
Harry looked at his teacher in disbelief. "Thank you, ma'am," he eventually spoke, grabbing a piece of toast.
McGonagall nodded, and then set a small vial near Harry's elbow.
Harry suppressed a sigh. It was a nutrient potion.
"As I am sure you've realized, Harry," McGonagall began, "Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape have informed me of your visit to the hospital wing."
Harry made a face, and set the toast back down on the plate.
"You can keep eating," McGonagall frowned. "I only wished to inform you that if you ever feel the need to talk—"
"Thank you, Professor," Harry interrupted. "But I'm okay."
McGonagall raised her eyebrow, her frown deepening. "You went through quite an ordeal last year. You should find an adult that you trust, Harry. Someone you can talk to."
Harry just gave a noncommittal shrug, and took a small bite of toast. There was absolutely no way that that was going to happen.
"Professor?" he finally asked.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Am I really off the team?"
Professor McGonagall immediately straightened in her chair, her tone suddenly becoming business-like. "Just because you are not cleared to fly until Madam Pomfrey gives you a clean bill of health does not mean that you are off the team, Mr. Potter." She pushed the breakfast food even closer to Harry as she spoke. "You just need to eat, and take your nutrient potions."
Harry smiled slightly, suddenly feeling a bit better.
He wondered how long that would last.
As it turned out, it didn't last very long.
Because no matter where he went that day, whether he was in the library or in the common room, or down by the lake, there were droves of people just staring at him. It was almost easier to be around the Slytherins, who were positively gleeful about the prospect of Harry not being allowed to play quidditch. Because everyone else seemed to have nothing but pity in their eyes and in their expressions when they looked at him.
It was almost unbearable.
Harry arrived at the potions classroom for detention that evening in a sour mood. It had been just about all he could do to avoid Ron and Hermione that day. He knew he was going to have to talk to them eventually. And he would have to tell them about the voice, and the hospital visit.
He just didn't feel up to it at the moment.
And then he saw Professor Snape sitting calmly at his desk, grading papers, and the anger flared up in him once more.
This was all Snape's fault.
If the man hadn't insisted on taking him to the hospital wing, none of this would have happened. Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have done a stupid scan on him. He wouldn't have had to lie to the mediwitch about his lack of appetite and sleep deprivation. And he wouldn't have been suspended from the quidditch team.
Snape was probably the reason that the whole school knew about that last part, too.
How else would everyone have found out?
"Are you going to just stand there, Mr. Potter, or are you going to get to work?" Snape drawled, not even looking up from his own parchment.
Harry narrowed his eyes at the top of the man's greasy head as he stalked over to his desk, where quill and ink were waiting for him, and dropped into the seat. He was actually a bit surprised that Snape had nothing to say regarding his exit from the hospital wing the previous night.
But he was a bit too angry at the moment to even care.
He pulled his essay out of his bag, smoothing it out flat against the desk.
And simply glared at it.
Whatever he wrote would never be good enough for Snape. This whole thing was just a game. The potions master was never going to tell him about his mother. He hated Harry.
With these thoughts, Harry crossed his arms and stared ahead at the wall.
"If you aren't going to write, then you may work on scrubbing some cauldrons for me," Snape said, the tone in his voice difficult to identify.
Harry looked over at the man. His eyes were dark and penetrating, almost daring Harry to disobey.
Harry pushed away from the desk and stalked over to the sink, rolling up his sleeves as he did so.
"If you are quite finished throwing your little temper tantrum, Mr. Potter, I would like a word," Snape's voice rang throughout the classroom.
Harry immediately put down the scrubbing brush and shook out his aching arm. He had been working on that last cauldron for nearly forty-five minutes, and there was an impossibly stubborn stain that still wouldn't come out.
"Now, Mr. Potter," the potions master barked impatiently.
Harry turned and hastily walked back across the classroom, stopping to stand directly in front of Snape.
There was a short pause before Snape spoke again. "So, Potter. Would you care to explain your deplorable attitude this evening?"
"No, sir," Harry said, looking down at the floor.
"Look at me, Potter," Snape said.
Harry reluctantly obeyed.
Snape raised his eyebrows. "Would you like to try answering that question again?" he asked, in his silkiest of voices.
"I already said no," Harry said, sounding far braver than he felt as the professor loomed over him, standing dangerously close.
"I believe we discussed once before the need for you to keep that temper of yours in check," Snape warned.
Harry fought the urge to look away.
"Do you remember that conversation, Potter?"
"Yes, sir," Harry answered, his tone slightly sulky, as he averted his eyes for just a moment.
"You are impossible, Potter," Snape shook his head, the annoyance clear in his voice.
"Yeah, I know. Just like my father," Harry snapped.
"You didn't inherit your temper from your father," Snape answered then, almost absently.
A look of shock crossed Harry's face at that statement. And then there was silence for a long moment, before Snape finally pointed to Harry's desk. "Sit."
Harry obeyed slowly, still trying to process what it was that Snape had just said.
"Now, if I were to make a guess," Snape spoke again, striding around to the front of Harry's desk, "I would say that you are upset about being temporarily removed from the Gryffindor quidditch team."
Harry didn't immediately respond. His thoughts were too fixated on the fact that Snape may have just revealed something about his mother.
"Well, Mr. Potter?" the man prompted a second later.
Harry quickly shook his head to refocus his thoughts. "You told them," he finally answered, remembering again why he was angry with Snape in the first place.
"Excuse me?"
"You told them about the quidditch."
"Told whom, exactly?" Snape demanded, clearly irritated.
"Your precious Slytherins," Harry grumbled quietly, though not quietly enough.
"I do not discuss students' personal affairs with other students, Mr. Potter," Snape said sharply.
"Then how did everyone find out?" Harry asked.
Snape shook his head and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "Do you never use that brain of yours, Potter?"
Harry frowned in confusion but otherwise did not respond.
"Hogwarts, in case you haven't noticed," the man said scathingly, "is full of paintings and portraits whose occupants have nothing better to do all day than to sit and gossip amongst themselves."
Harry's eyes widened as he unconsciously looked around the classroom for any sign of a picture hanging on the wall. There were none. But he did remember seeing a few in the hospital wing.
"But, why would Madam Pomfrey allow portraits in the hospital wing if—"
"Those portraits are sworn to secrecy with anything regarding a student's health records."
"But this was health related," the boy argued.
"And there isn't another student in this castle who is aware of the nature of your health issues, Mr. Potter."
Harry sighed and broke eye contact. He didn't like the look that the potions master was giving him.
"Now do you wish to work on your essay tonight, Mr. Potter, or would you rather go back to scrubbing cauldrons?"
Harry mumbled a quiet response.
"Speak clearly, Mr. Potter," Snape said harshly.
"I'll work on the essay, sir," the boy said a bit louder, though his voice was still barely above a whisper.
The professor gave a quick nod before turning to head back to his desk.
And Harry couldn't help but to watch the man's retreating back for a moment, all of his thoughts now a confused jumble in his head.
A/N: For anyone who may be wondering: Yes, Snape will find out about the Dursleys. Don't worry. I have a plan for that. It's just that for this story, I really wanted to work on developing Harry and Snape's relationship before Snape makes that discovery, not after.
Also: Because it will be impossible to tell how often I'll be able to update this story, I have decided that I'll start making weekly updates on my profile page, informing everyone of when they may be able to expect the next chapter. I'll start doing that probably in January.
Thanks for reading!
-Ailee17