Severus awoke with a splitting headache, and at first, he was confused, something he didn't feel often. He couldn't remember deciding to go to sleep, nor could he remember night having fallen, but it must have, because it had been late afternoon the last time he could remember, and it was now morning. In fact, the last thing he remembered was…

Severus tried to jump up, to force himself to be alert, but jumping made his head hurt worse and caused the hospital wing to tilt dangerously. He had to gather himself, otherwise he'd be vulnerable…

"Professor!"

Severus turned sharply, and dearly wished he hadn't; there were now at least three Harrys staring at him with wide eyes, their six or seven hands thrown up in alarm, their voices echoing slightly and only serving to increase the pain in Severus' temples. He groaned and unwillingly sank back heavily.

"Pleased to see you as well," Harry muttered, grinning, and Severus could not help but feel a small twinge of pride at the amount of sass in his voice, even if the remark itself wasn't that clever; the boy really was just like Lily, after all…she was the one who had tried to bring that quality out in Severus. She never had been as good of a verbal sparring partner as his mother had been, but the amount of attitude she could cram into her tone more than made up for her not-so-clever-retorts, and by the time their friendship had ended she had helped him hone that skill considerably, to where it was almost an art form.

"What is it you want this time, Potter?" he asked, keeping his eyes closed; it made it harder to focus on what Harry was saying, but it felt so nice, and it lessened the searing pain from the bright light pouring through the windows, signaling the arrival of midday.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright," he answered, and from his tone alone it was plain that he was blushing slightly and avoiding Severus' eyes. They had made quite a bit of progress in the last few weeks, but not enough that either could openly express a concern for each other without feeling awkward or unnatural.

"Well, as you can see, I am alive," Severus groaned softly, and then suddenly, "Potter, will you kindly hand me that bedpan?"

Harry passed it over, sounding perplexed. "Professor, what-?" but the rest of his question was drown out by the sound of Severus heaving into the bedpan.

"Are you sick as well?" Harry asked, sounding very nervous.

Severus shook his head a fraction of an inch to each side, the only movement he could afford. "A side effect of the butcher's cleaver in my forehead," he explained. "Your cacophonous comments do not aid the situation."

"Sorry, Sir," he whispered back.

Severus wanted to ask what had happened to him, but he was uncomfortable revealing that he knew so little about the past several hours. He was not ready to admit such vulnerability to anyone, especially not this boy, not yet.

But of course, the boy was, as always, too nosy for his own good. "Do you know what happened to you, Sir?"

Severus did not answer.

"You…you collapsed…in the middle of a lesson," Harry said slowly.

Severus opened his eyes and his mind. Harry's face was somewhere between scared and apologetic. He knew by now that Harry had no issue with his using Legilimency on him; sometimes it was easier for them to communicate. In his mind's eye, he saw a vision of himself. He was pacing about the Potions class as usual, watching the House of Merlin students work and pointing out dangerous flaws before they blew up the entire classroom (he knew they wouldn't, but it gave him a small amount of pleasure to watch them grow steadily more nervous the closer he came to each of them; just because they knew he was not a Death Eater didn't mean he couldn't still enjoy some of the pleasures of being that certain cross between admired and feared). He was in the process of inspecting Hermione Granger's cauldron, making no comment and moving on to Draco Malfoy's. Mid-stride he slowed suddenly. He blinked heavily. He turned and began to try to make it to his desk, as if he sensed what was about to happen. Harry and Draco realized what was about to happen as well, and they both started to follow their teacher. Severus was within three steps of his desk when he saw his own eyes roll back into his head as he stumbled. Harry and Draco had tried valiantly to catch him, but all that had happened was that they'd managed to turn him so that the back of his head cracked the edge of the desk instead of the front of his head. Both lowered him onto the floor as Hermione Granger ran out of the classroom, presumably to fetch help, because several minutes later Madam Pomfrey arrived with a levitating stretcher. A word stood out clearly in Harry's memory: exhaustion.

"I see," was all he could think to say.

"Professor…"

Severus forced himself to concentrate and remain alert. Harry's voice had changed from worried to almost chastising. Severus would not be chastised.

"I…" Harry cleared his throat. "I haven't seen Hagrid in ages," he said slowly. "And I was thinking…if it wouldn't be too much of a bother…maybe I could take some of my Defense Against the Dark Arts homework with me? Hagrid might be good help…obviously just in theory, not practical…"

And then Severus understood. "That…would be one of the few sensible ideas you have had, Potter," he said.

Harry grinned, looking relieved and also alarmingly like his father, as if he'd been let in on some exciting mischief.

"Perhaps Miss Granger could discuss her knowledge of Transfiguration with him sometime…only in theory, of course…"

"Mal-Draco has an affinity-I mean, a great deal of trouble with Charms. Hagrid would have a lot of background knowledge of Charms…he's most likely seen several in the Forrest."

"Thank you."

Severus hadn't meant to say it, nor had he wanted to say it. It had slipped out somewhere between the migraine and the exhaustion, and he was furious with himself. Harry, thank Merlin, was tactful enough to pretend not to hear.

"I was told to give you this message from him," Harry said, laying a large, folded scroll of parchment on the bed by Severus. "He said that these are some herbs and venoms he'd like your advice on; something about a Care of Magical Creatures lesson coming up, and he wanted to make sure it was safe to bring the students around these animals." And then he left his professor to his thoughts.

Severus unrolled the parchment, and he felt his heart rise into his throat. The scroll was not a list of venomous herbs, but was in fact a card. A handmade card. Severus had not known that someone with hands as large and bulky as Hagrid's could make something so delicate, so intricate, so detailed. It was a picture of Hagrid and Severus in Severus' office, sitting together in the largest armchair, Severus in Hagrid's lap, reading a book together by the glowing fireplace. Above them were the very untidy words: Please get well soon, but it was not those words that caught Severus or the ones that made the small tears begin to form in his eyes. It was the words below the armchair, where Hagrid had written:

Because I love you, if you'll let me.