Much longer chapter than usual. Thank you so, so much for the reviews for my last chapter, each one means a lot to me and encourages me to continue, even when I feel like my story is not good enough to continue. I put a lot of work into each chapter, and sometimes, just a single sentence can have me in a state of irritation as I try to find the wording I wish for. I hope this one is acceptable and that things are not going too slow, as I sometimes feel they are. I just find it very difficult to write without going into the characters' thought processes.
When Harry next opened his eyes, it was to a pounding headache that seemed to reverberate throughout his body, sending ripples of pain down his spine. For a few moments, he simply lay inert, eyes gazing up at the ceiling as memories of the last few days permeated his consciousness. Only one thought seemed to push it's way to the forefront of his mind, however, and it was all he could do to not scream in frustration at the possible ramifications. Snape knew of Harry's weakness. Not only the weakness that had driven him to inflict damage on himself, but also, the weakness that had allowed others to inflict damage on him. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that if Snape had seen the the marks left by his knife, he had also seen the marks left by his uncle's belt. He also guessed that the manipulative bastard who seemed to take great pains to control every aspect of Harry's life, was also now aware of the situation. He hated his life and more than that, right now, he hated Albus Dumbledore who time and again deafened himself to Harry's wishes. Now he was effectively trapped here with a man who had served only to ensure that his days at school had been almost as miserable as the days he spent on Privet Drive. Of course, he could no longer cast doubt on the fact that Snape was, indeed, working for the Order and not for Voldemort, as he had once been so certain of, but that didn't change the fact that the man was cruel and vindictive. As he wondered what would happen now in the face of what had been discovered, his stomach tensed at the uncertainty of it all. Shifting slightly in the large bed, he finally directed his gaze to the blurry room around him and noted, with great relief, that he was alone for the moment and a quick glance at the bedside table bought a sigh of relief as he spotted his glasses. Putting them on, he pulled back the heavy blankets and slid off the bed, bracing himself against the wave of vertigo that accosted him.
With care, he unsteadily made his way to the bathroom, no longer able to ignore nature as he tried not to consider how nature may have been dealt with during the time he was unconscious. As he crossed the room, he could not help but notice the absolute silence, as if he were the only inhabitant in the large house and he found the thought strangely unnerving. As much as he wished to be left alone, free from the intrusion of others, the idea of being entirely alone in this unfamiliar environment unsettled him. With a small sigh. he entered the bathroom and tried to pull the door closed behind him only to find it would not budge. For several moments, he pulled and pushed and yanked on the it, but as hard as he strove to close it, the damn thing remained unresponsive. Fresh anger coursed through him as he realised the door had deliberately been rendered useless, no doubt by Snape, ensuring Harry lacked even the most basic of privacy rights. Frustrated, he aimed a hefty kick at the unyielding wood, instantly regretting the action as excruciating pain tore through his foot almost bringing him to his knees. Clamping his jaw shut against an instinctual cry, he froze momentarily, listening for any sign of approaching footsteps. When none came, he limped the rest of the way into the bathroom, biting his lip hard against the steady ache in his toes as he saw to his needs.
Harry had only just made it back to bed when, with a faint pop, Minky appeared in the middle of the room, bulbous eyes anxious as she scurried over to him.
'Master Severus has told me that Master Harry is to be eating when he wakes up', she squeaked, and with a snap of her bony fingers, a laden tray appeared on the bedside table. Harry glanced at it warily, seeing a bowl filled with some kind of soup, a bread roll and a glass of pumpkin juice which he carefully took in hand and gratefully drank from. His head still throbbed painfully and his stomach churned defiantly as the smell of soup accosted him, daring him to even try taking a spoonful. He thought he should be hungry by now, after so long without any form of substantial meal, but just the thought of eating rendered him anxious with nausea. Realising the elf had yet to leave and wanting desperately to be alone again, he gave her a small smile of reassurance and reached for the soup spoon as he spoke,
'Thanks Minky, did you make this? It really looks great'
The elf's eyes bulged even more and her lips started quivering as she wrung her hands, obviously unaccustomed to such praise, yet not as overwhelmed by it as Dobby usually was.
'Oh Master Harry is too kind, no-one has ever been praising Minky's cooking before', the small creature said in her strange, high-pitched voice, 'Now, Master Harry must be finishing all of it or Minky will be getting in trouble from Master Severus. Master Severus is very worried about Master Harry and says that if he doesn't eat, Master Harry will not be allowed out of bed for a week!'
Harry had no doubt that Snape would make good on his word and was probably waiting for just such an opportunity to further taunt Harry with the authority he held over him. He glanced at the bowl of soup again, spoon hovering in the air just above, then turned back to Minky and cleared his throat slightly, 'Uh, Minky? I kind of find it hard to eat with someone watching... could you, er, come back when I'm done?', he watched as the elf became anxious, her ears flapping haphazardly as she looked to the door then back at the tray and Harry.
'Master Snape said I must make sure Master Harry eats', she squeaked unhappily, tugging on her ears as she stepped from foot to foot as Harry watched. Sighing lightly, he lifted a hand to his temple, trying to somehow rub away the biting pain that continued to blossom in his skull as stabbing pains shot through his toes. They were probably broken, of course, but there was nothing he could do without his wand and he certainly wouldn't have trusted himself to get the spell right anyway.
'Look, I promise you, I will be fine, Minky. You don't need to stay to make sure I eat and if Snape says anything, well, I will take the blame for it', he said in his softest voice, hoping to reassure the creature, even as guilt gnawed at him at his deceit. He had no intention of eating anything while he felt so sick and the thought of it alone bought bile to his throat.
It seemed his words had the right impact as the elf took one more wary look at him, then with a pop, disappeared, leaving the room in silence again.
After a quick glance at the door, Harry rose painfully to his feet, hissing in pain as his injured toes protested the contact. Of course, it was not the first broken bone he had suffered, but he honestly could not recall those of his childhood being quite so painful. He only hoped he could somehow hide the injury from Snape lest the man did physically confine Harry to his bed. Carefully, he picked up the bowl of soup and roll and made his way, once more, to the bathroom, his legs even less steady than before as one was forced to take most of the weight.
Down in his laboratory, Severus brushed a hand across his face, roughly wiping away the sweat that had beaded there during the last several hours he had spent brewing. Potter had been sound asleep when he had left, apparently free, for the moment at least, from both the fever and the nightmares that had kept Severus virtually chained to the chair by his bed for the last several days. Certain that the boy would not wake for several hours at least, he had taken the opportunity to get himself cleaned up before tackling the task of brewing a potion he knew was essential to Potter's recovery. Even with three meals a day, he was certain it would take far too long to restore the boy to a healthier weight, especially if his stomach was now unaccustomed to larger portions of food. Labeling the last of a long row of vials, he nodded his head in satisfaction and placed half of them in the deep pockets hidden within his robes before exiting the room. It was time to check on the boy. Although he had left strict instructions with Minky to ensure that he ate as soon as he was awake and to keep an eye on him, he doubted the wisdom of leaving the boy alone for any length of time. Potter had already proven himself capable of outmaneuvering every attempt to keep him safe.
As he swept silently into the guest room, several things immediately grabbed Severus' attention, the first being the fact that Potter was not in his bed. The second thing he noted, as he moved further into the chamber, was the presence of a tray laden with only a glass of what he presumed must be Pumpkin juice. He had distinctly instructed the elf that the boy was to be given something nutritional and easy to digest, preferably soup, and failed to see how juice fulfilled that criteria. The sound of a toilet being flushed alerted Severus to Harry's present location and he crossed the room, coming to a stop by the open bathroom door. He had little doubt that the boy would not have reacted positively to such an intrusion on his privacy, but it was, in his opinion, necessary. Of course, he could have simply removed the lock, but if the boy did decide to inflict further injury on himself, Severus wanted quick access. Long minutes of silence bred suspicion and with no sign of the boy emerging, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Soundlessly and without warning, he quickly entered the bathroom.
The sound of shattering china splintered the silence as Harry, startled by the sudden movement at the door, lost his grip on the empty soup bowl. His other hand clutched convulsively round the uneaten bread roll as he froze on the spot, staring down at the fragments of porcelain by his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the familiar black robes of his professor and his throat tightened as the silence stretched on, broken only by his ragged breaths. The task of disposing of the uneaten meal had taken far longer than anticipated when the damn soup refused to flush away the first time he had tried and he had already wasted precious minutes simply trying to reach the bathroom on his injured foot which now throbbed as an unpleasant reminder. Finally unable to endure the silence, Harry slowly lifted his head and turned his gaze towards the other occupant of the room. Snape's face gave little away, but his dark eyes glinted with unbridled fury and unconsciously, Harry took a step back, stumbling slightly as pain unbalanced him.
Severus found he could only stare uncomprehendingly for several moments at the scene that met his eyes in the dimly lit bathroom before the sound of breaking china echoed through the silence. Potter had been poised by the toilet, an empty soup bowl in one hand, a bread roll in the other, and although it was blatantly obvious what he had been doing, Severus could not fathom the lengths to which the boy was going to avoid eating. As the moments passed and the boy made no effort to move, to explain himself, Severus felt his mood shifting to anger in the face of another act of defiance, another complication. As if the intrusion into his personal time were not already great enough, it seemed he would now be forced to watch the boy at mealtimes, to ensure he actually ate. As Harry took a step back. Severus took a step forward and grabbed him by the wrist, yanking him unceremoniously towards the bathroom entrance, ignoring the gasp the boy made as he was dragged back into the main room.
Harry tried to pull back against the hand gripping his wrist as he stumbled after Snape, desperately trying to keep the weight off his right foot which was now screaming in agony. No matter how hard he resisted, though, the man continued relentlessly, and finally, with a sob, he fell to his knees, unable to go any further. Shame swept through him as a torrent of emotion bubbled up to the surface, the past days catching up to him, as fragmented memories and thoughts slammed into him with the force of a tornado. It felt as though his mind was breaking and the sense of powerlessness that washed over him had him gasping fruitlessly for breath.
'Please stop', he rasped out as another sob wrenched itself from his traitorous throat. Horrified at his own weakness, he turned his head away, trying valiantly to hide his face as he felt a surge of despair bubbling up within him. His body shook with effort as he struggled to rein in his emotions, but this only seemed to make things worse as he tried to stifle the sobs now rising to his throat with regularity.
The sound of the Harry's sob, coupled with the thud as he fell to his knees brought Severus to an abrupt halt and he turned around sharply, slightly alarmed by the tone of the boy's voice as he begged him to stop. In all his years of teaching Potter, he had never heard the boy sound so wretched, not even during the ill fated Occlumency lessons. The boy seemed to be falling to pieces at his feet and as his body began to shake with the strength of his sobs, Severus found he could only stand there, frozen and helpless. Had something happened while he had been occupied in his laboratory? Had the boy somehow inflicted further harm to himself? Although the desolate state he was in suggested a culmination of his clearly depressed mind and his current predicament, he could not help thinking there was something more to this collapse. Although he had anticipated some kind of major emotional meltdown at some stage over the coming weeks, he was still at a loss to explain why it had come about now, of all times. Shaking his head in confused frustration but unable to ignore the gasping cries any longer, he carefully knelt down beside the boy and after a moment's hesitation, placed his hand on the narrow back. Harry flinched in response, but did not otherwise react, apparently too entrapped by his rampant emotions as he fought to gain control. The foolish boy is going to give himself another panic attack, Severus thought grimly, as it became evident Harry was fighting so hard against his emotions, that he was fighting for breath.
'Breathe Potter', he murmured as against his usual nature, he began rubbing the rigid back beneath his hand, hoping to relax the boy enough to release the emotion he was clearly battling to hold in. After some minutes, it became abundantly clear that the boy was well beyond a point of being able to acknowledge, let alone listen to any calming words Severus might have to offer. Seeing little choice, as the boy continued to work himself into a full blown panic attack, he glanced over to the room's desk and relieved to see the unused vials from earlier still there, summoned one over. By this point, Harry had dropped fully to the floor and was hunched over himself, body rigid and unyielding as his breath came in small, shallow pants. Deciding that any further words would be futile, Severus shifted himself closer to the teen's head and grabbing the boy's chin in one hand, used the fingers of his other to force the reluctant mouth open and pour down a calming draught. Setting the empty vial down, he sat back on his heels and waited, watching silently as Harry continued to sob, retch and gasp for breath for a few more seconds, before finally his body seemed to yield to the potion's effects.
Harry slumped as the potion took effect, most of his stronger emotions seemingly draining away, leaving him feeling empty and utterly humiliated at being seen in such a state. He could not even remember a time he had cried so much or been so out of control of his emotions... not in that sense, anyway. Of course, he had been at the mercy of his furious temper on several occasions now, most of them recent, but for the most part, he preferred to keep his feelings well hidden lest anyone see his weaknesses. The pain in his foot, his persistent headache and being caught and dragged off like some errant schoolboy had apparently pushed him past his limits of endurance and there had been nothing he could do to pull the torrent of emotion back into himself. Unable to face the dark man still seated nearby, he simply stared at the floor, hands braced against the cold stone as he shivered miserably. He vaguely wondered what punishment would be incurred for discarding his food and how, if asked, he could possibly explain his reasons. He did not want to explain his reasons to anyone, least of all to Snape, who would likely as not spew more insults at the boy he hated. He shifted his position slightly, trying to ease his screaming foot out from under his backside and grimaced, biting his cheek hard to stem a gasp.
The slight movement and subsequent expression on the boy's face, did not go unnoticed by Severus, who had been carefully observing the teen as the potion came into full effect. Nor did it escape his notice, that Potter's face, which had regained some small amount of colour, was once more deathly pale and if possible, more drawn than it had been when he arrived. If he was correct in his assumptions, the foolish boy had been discarding his meals since arriving and whatever the reasons were, it would not continue, of that he was adamant. If he had to force feed the annoying wretch, then he had all the means of doing so, and some of those means were unpleasant enough that he hoped it would not come to that, once he explained them to the boy. For now, he needed to get Potter back to the bed and had no intention of allowing him to leave that bed until he was satisfied the boy was gaining adequate nutrition. How he was still able to even stand, was beyond Severus' comprehension, and he tried not to consider the ramifications of how easily Potter seemed to cope without food. Ignoring the cracks of his complaining joints, he rose to his feet and coming to a decision, based on his suspicions, pointed his wand at the shivering form at his feet, casting a diagnostic spell. The boy's right foot glowed red and to a lesser degree, so did his head, indicating where there was pain, injury, or indeed, both. It seemed that against his better wishes, he would indeed have to follow Albus' suggestion and find an appropriate means to ensure he was alerted if the boy was risking or inflicting harm to himself. Fighting back the urge to shout and insult the fifteen year old, he sighed heavily.
'Get up, Potter. I have no desire to stand here watching you wallow for any longer than necessary. It is time you and I had a little talk and we will be discussing the manner in which I found you'
Shifting his position slightly, Harry looked up at tall man, trying to ascertain his mood, but as usual, the harsh face remained devoid of emotion, impenetrable. Scrubbing fiercely at his still damp eyes, Harry slowly clambered to his feet on trembling limbs, stumbling forwards as his vision swam precariously, both from pain and, he presumed, exhaustion. With surprising speed, Snape's hand shot out and grabbed his arm to steady him, a hand on his back pushing him lightly towards the bed as Harry limped painfully to his destination. With a sense of resignation, he sat himself on the side of the bed, hands fisting in his lap, eyes downcast as Snape released his arm and took a step back. He could feel the man's penetrating stare and flushed slightly, anxiety faintly clawing it's way past the effects of the calming potion.
'Sit back on the bed properly, Potter. In spite of your pitiful efforts to hide it, it has not escaped my notice that once again your impetuous impulsivity has caused injury', Snape's voice was cold, but oddly, seemed to lack it's usual bite.
Harry carefully slid himself back on the bed, twisting his body and wincing as he swung his legs up and dragged himself backwards until his back came to rest against the wall behind. He vaguely wondered if Snape had somehow managed to cast a diagnostic spell without his noticing, but inwardly shrugged at the idea, not particularly caring. The man would have found out sooner or later anyway, simply from the fact that Harry was struggling to walk on his foot at all, even for ridiculously short distances.
He flinched as a cool hand took a hold of his foot and lifted his gaze slightly as Snape studied the swollen and discoloured appendage with narrowed eyes, his mouth pulled into a thin line. Setting it back on the bed, the man drew his wand and instinctively, Harry shuffled further back against the wall, dragging his knees up against his chest, in a defensive stance.
'If I were going to curse you, Potter, believe me, I have had more than ample reason to have done so before now',Snape sneered and with a firm hand, he pressed down on Harry's knees until his legs lay flat once more. Brandishing his wand once more, he quietly murmured a spell, watching intently as a scroll of parchment appeared at the end of it and snatched it up in his hand.
'Congratulations, Potter, you have successfully broken three toes. Shall I remove all the walls and doors in my home as well as all potential weapons just to keep you safe?'. the man snarled, throwing the parchment to the floor.
Harry stared down at his knees, a flush slowly creeping up his neck as he waited for the next sarcastic barb, but none came. Instead, Snape pressed a hand down on his right calf, holding it still as he flourished his wand and uttered the words 'Brackium Emendo'. Harry flinched at the sharp pain, his leg bucking against the firm hand holding it but it was short lived and seconds later, had vanished entirely. He wriggled his toes experimentally, then, once Snape had removed his hand, pulled his knees back up to his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around them. He studied his hands, avoiding the gaze of the other, uncomfortably aware that the talk Snape had mentioned would undoubtedly involve the bathroom incident and possibly other things he would rather not speak of.
'Are there any other injuries or ailments I should know of, Potter?', the man asked in a clipped tone, arms now folded across his chest, wand still in hand.
Harry paused a moment, debating whether a fierce headache could really be considered an ailment, then shook his head, biting his lip when the pain intensified 'No Sir'.
Severus studied the boy on the bed, noting his defensive stance, the knees drawn up, gripped close to his body. He did not miss the delay in response to his question, nor the expression on the teen's face as he answered and had to bite back the urge to shout. If there was one thing he truly and utterly loathed, it was lies and he knew that if he were to get anywhere with this boy, there needed to be total honesty. But, he considered, what reason have I ever given Potter to trust me? In fact, he pondered, what reason did Potter have to trust any adult, considering those in his life thus far had either manipulated, bullied or outright abused him? Of course, there had been Black, as unreliable as he was, and Lupin seemed to be some source of solace to the boy, yet evidently, Potter had hidden his abuse from all. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he bought himself back to the present moment, determined to extract the truth, whatever it was.
'Do. not. lie. to. me, Potter', he said in a dangerous tone, 'I can see it on your face and believe me, I have means of getting to the truth that you might find quite unpleasant. Perhaps you would like to try again. The truth this time, if you please'
Harry pressed his head into his hands, closing his eyes tightly, frustrated beyond measure at being cornered, certain that he would be similarly cornered when it came to any other information the man might wish to extract from him. What did it matter if he had a headache anyway? He couldn't quite understand why Snape suddenly cared about his physical welfare so greatly. It was true, Dumbledore expected him to keep Harry alive and in some semblance of health, but beyond that, what did it matter? Finally, looking up with a defiant glare, he responded, his voice a strange combination of bitterness and indifference.
'It's just a stupid headache, alright? What the hell do you care anyway? Why do you care if I'm in pain? It never bothered you before, so why does it bother you now? Oh... of course', he turned away to look at the wall blankly, 'You have to do what Dumbledore says, like a good little servant'.
Severus ground his teeth, using every ounce of self control he possessed, in order to not hex the brat for his impertinence, although it was the truth in the boy's words that roused the most anger. He stepped closer to the bed, eyes narrowed dangerously, his voice deceptively soft as he pressed his hands down on the edge of the bed, by Harry's legs.
'I suggest you change you attitude, Potter, or you may well find the coming weeks unimaginably uncomfortable. As I am sure you are aware, there are some quite... inventive...ways to cause pain without inflicting permanent damage, should you continue to push me'
The threat hovered in the air thickly, like a dense cloud and Harry slumped, shrinking in on himself. What was the point of fighting back anyway? It had never done any good before and would clearly serve no purpose now. Oh, he had tried many times to fight back, both against his Uncle and others who had striven to break him down over the years, but now, now he was simply tired. It seemed easier to accept his fate, whatever that might be and to closet away everything but the most basic of thoughts and emotions. They really were unnecessary and pointless.
Severus watched as a strange expression crossed the boy's face before it went blank, as if a door had closed on all emotion, all thought. He had seen that look before, many years ago, when he had looked in the mirror after a particularly severe incident at the hands of his father. That had been the turning point in his life; the moment he had lost most of the components that had made him human...the moment when suddenly, the darkness had seemed to offer more than any lightness ever could. Again, he cursed Albus Dumbledore for having such blind faith in his ability to help the boy when his very nature compelled him to push Potter even further into his dark thoughts. Removing his hands from the bed, he reached into his robes and pulled out a pale green potion vial, unstopping it then holding it out towards Harry, who stared at it with disinterest.
'Pain potion, Potter'. he murmured, waiting patiently for the boy to react.
Harry hesitantly took the vial and with barely a glance at it, tipped the contents into his mouth, then held the empty vial in a slack grip. Severus took it, returning it to his robes before pulling his usual chair closer to the bed and seating himself, elbows on his knees, hands supporting his chin. For a few minutes, he simply sat there, studying the boy on the bed intently, dark eyes penetrating as he considered his next words.
'This refusal to eat cannot continue, Potter', he finally said, his voice lacking it's usual bite, 'and believe me, I will use whatever means necessary to ensure that you do not waste away while under my care'
He continued to watch Harry, hoping to see some reaction, even defiance, at his words, but the boy's face remained impassive, as if no-one was actually home.
'Now, I am going to give you a choice. You will either eat the food I provide or I will force feed you... in a rather muggle fashion. Obviously, as I witnessed earlier, you cannot be trusted to eat when left to your own devices, so until such a time as I feel you are to be trusted, I will be watching to ensure the food ends up where it is intended to end up.'
Harry remained still, other than his hands which now clenched into fists, causing a slight tremor to run down his arms. He stared straight ahead, refusing to so much as glance at the man whose presence suddenly felt so oppressive and far too close for his comfort. He knew that to resist would be pointless. Without his wand, he was powerless and the other man was infinitely larger and stronger than Harry could ever hope to be. He briefly considered that maybe Snape was simply using an empty threat to coerce him into submission, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it entered his head - Snape did not make empty threats. In fact, the man would probably delight in the further degradation of his most hated student.
'Well, Potter? What is it to be?', Snape questioned, eyes still locked onto the face of the silent shadow of the boy who seemed intent on not living.
Harry took a shaky breath then nodded his head minutely, his voice barely a whisper when he spoke.
'I'll do what you want'
Severus rose to his feet and snapped his fingers, quietly giving brief instructions to Minky when she popped into existence before him. Within short moments, she reappeared with another tray, laden once more with a bowl of thick soup, a bread roll and a glass of pumpkin juice. Dismissing her with a wave of his hand, Severus took the tray and once Harry had flattened his legs, placed it on his lap silently before settling back into his chair.
Harry stared at the soup with ill concealed repugnance and briefly turned to glance at Snape whose eyes glittered with the promise of consequences should Harry refuse the food. With a shaking hand, he picked up the spoon and started eating, each mouthful like grit as the soup seemed to stick in his throat, which tightened in response to the unfamiliar sensation. The bread was even worse and in spite of the fact he had broken it into small pieces, even the sips of pumpkin juice between bites did nothing to aid his swallow reflex. After what must have been at least half an hour, he finally finished the last piece of bread and leant back against the wall, closing his eyes against an all too familiar nausea. Taking deep breaths, he tried desperately to swallow it back, but the food weighed heavy and some seemed to have stuck in his gullet and was steadily making it's way back up. Oh God, he thought miserably, as his stomach cramped painfully causing him to groan, tears springing to his eyes unbidden. He knew he was going to be sick and with a vague sense of panic, he gripped the sides of the mattress desperately, as though he could will away the inevitable.
Severus had watched the painfully slow progress Harry had made with his meal and now, as he saw the boy pale dramatically, he realised, too late, that it had been too much for the teen to handle. He wanted to mentally kick himself for not enquiring as to how long it had actually been since the boy had eaten anything substantial, but now was not the time. He stood up quickly and grabbed the tray from the boy's lap, but before he could make any other move, Harry was bent over the side of the bed, retching violently as he vomited up the undigested meal.
Sweat beaded across Harry's forehead as he heaved, taking deep, gasping breaths and wishing it would just end as his stomach clenched rebelliously. With a death grip on the edge of the mattress, he stared at the pool of vomit on the floor, frozen with fear that if he moved, it would start again. Snape would be furious and he had little doubt the man would consider this a deliberate act of defiance. He shuddered as another wave of nausea overcame him and swallowed back the bile that rose to his throat, coughing with the effort.
Severus quickly deposited the tray on the side table and, when it appeared the boy had stopped vomiting, vanished the offensive puddle with a brisk wave of his wand and stood observing the teen for a few moments. Finally, coming to a decision, he moved to stand directly in front of the boy and reaching out a hand, cupped Harry's chin, lifting his head to force eye contact.
'How long, exactly, has it been since you last had a full meal, Potter?', he questioned softly.
Harry stared dazedly into the dark eyes of the Potions Master and swallowed thickly as he tried to think of a response to the unexpected question, unnerved by the man's penetrating gaze. How long had it been? He had eaten some meals on his initial return to the Dursleys, but after a week of aggressive nightmares, had found the very thought of food nauseating. Closing his eyes so as to avoid seeing any reaction in the other man, he replied, his voice barely audible, even to his own ears.
'A few weeks, I guess'.
