Remus hadn't woken him for the next day and Harry found it to be mid-afternoon by the time he woke. He almost immediately wished he hadn't. Groaning and burying his head in Sirius's blankets, he couldn't decide what was worse, the throbbing pain in his head or the uncomfortable knot in his stomach. Guilt left over from his fight with Lupin licked at the periphery of his mind but he firmly pushed the thoughts aside. He didn't want to think about that right now.
He turned his focus to his body instead. His limbs felt heavy and leaden as he heaved himself upright, almost like he'd grown used to zero gravity before being slammed back to earth. With some concern, he noticed the shakes he had experienced last time were wracking his entire body on this occasion. It had been stupid of him to drown his anger out with a potion he still didn't fully understand. His emotions and head were reeling together and with an unwelcome stab of dread he realised it was Friday. He didn't know how he was going to cope with Snape's onslaught later feeling like this. Shivering he padded to his own room and showered, hugging his shaking arms to his chest under the water.
Once he had dressed and managed to hold in his shudders to a degree, he crept slowly down the stairs, wary about bumping into Remus. He was unsure of the man's mood and how he should act around him. However, a quick sweep of the downstairs and Lupin's room left Harry fairly certain the man wasn't home, and neither was anyone else. Absently, he wondered if he was even allowed to be left alone.
He knew the house was secure, but even so, he only assumed Dumbledore would insist on an around-the-clock guard, much to his irritation. Whatever the case, Harry found himself grateful for the alone time as he made himself breakfast. Maybe it was best if Lupin had some time to calm down, anyway. Harry decided he would apologise when he next saw him. He knew his comments about Remus' intentions had crossed the line and although the anger wasn't gone, he had enough presence of mind left to know when he was being unfair. He would blame the outburst on tiredness, not completely untrue for he was tired of Lupin and the rests' behaviour, and hopefully things would settle back into the awkward dance they had been in before.
He made toast and then, carrying it between his teeth, pushed against the heavy library door, intent on distracting himself, only to freeze as it swung open to reveal a chaotic scene. The bookshelf he had hid behind the day before was on the ground and leather bound tomes were scattered violently across the room. His eye flicked to the armchair Lupin had been sitting in. It also lay on the floor on its side, one of the legs snapped clean in two.
A sudden panic gripped Harry for a moment. Did he do this? He had probably been angry enough to let out accidental magic last night but he didn't remember the room getting trashed...No. He would have definitely noticed.
Relief washed over him, he was sure he wouldn't have been the only one who'd have noticed and he didn't much feel like sitting down over tea with Dumbledore to explain why he had been so annoyed that his magic had all but flipped out.
Lupin must have done this, he realised, his eyes scanning the library's destruction. The thought was sobering. Whilst he'd seen the man lose his temper, especially at certain times of the moon cycle, it took a lot to get him there. It was unusual for him to even raise his voice and his calm in the face of some of Snape's nastier jibes had downright impressed Harry in the past.
But yet, Harry eyed the ripped fabric of what he imagined to be a very old and once very expensive armchair, he had managed to rile Lupin up to the point of all out tantrum. He frowned, all at once annoyed. He knew he shouldn't have provoked Lupin but in some ways, this sort of proved his point. Not allowed to repair anything magically himself, and damned if he'd be stuck cleaning up after a grown mans meltdown, he turned and left the room. Let Lupin face the evidence of his behaviour later.
He passed the time by hunting for doodles in Sirius magazine collection instead. Though he hadn't found many, the few he did were enough to leave him aching. The doodles were rough and scratchy and reminded Harry of the man himself, frivolous and unrefined but with heart etched into every blot of ink. Gryffindor lions and sketchy motorbikes blinked up at him and Harry even found something that looked like a small mock up of one of the tunnels detailed on the marauders map.
By the time Harry had scoured the collection twice over it was early evening and the aches in his joints had grown. His hands shook so violently that he had come close to ripping entire pages and a matching pain in his head had joined the ache in his chest. As shadows crept even heavier over the room it occurred to Harry that facing Snape's mental onslaught with nothing but painful memories of Sirius filling his head and a full-body tremor was a distinctly horrific idea.
He glanced to the ancient wooden clock in the opposite corner of the room. 7:40. Fuck.
Gasping, his urged his protesting limbs to push him to his feet and held one shaking hand in front of his face. He stretched his fingers taught and then relaxed them but the shuddering didn't cease. He cursed, panic seizing him. Snape,
would he know what Harry had done? The man was a potions master and probably familiar with a load of potion after effects. Harry still wasn't sure about the exact nature of the potion but he was fast becoming sure it wasn't all that legal and Snape would be the first person to jump at the chance to get him into trouble, not to mention grab at another excuse to insult Sirius in front of Harry. He blinked rapidly trying to think of a decent excuse for involuntary shivering. His breath was tight and fast, as the hands on the clock seemed to speed up mockingly.
He glanced guiltily at the corner of the potions box sticking out from under the bed, wondering if he should hide it. His body seemed to almost tremble in reply and he felt a craving like never before. Sweet muscles memories of taking the potion danced around his body almost like he was being rewarded for looking at it. His shaking eased slightly.
Almost reverently, he took a step towards the bed. Plans and realizations were weaving through his head. He wasn't having a bad reaction to the potion, his body just liked it so much that it craved more for a day or so afterwards, and all he'd have to do to make the pain and the aching and the shaking stop was to take a little bit more. It was so easy. It was right there right in front of him.
His foot left a dust print as he edged closer to the bed. The ticking from the clock had settled itself in the back of his thoughts, providing both an external and internal background metronome as his thoughts continued to flow, more sure now.
He could just take a tiny bit. A half dose. Enough to leave him lucid yet feeling fit. It was the perfect solution! The potion would cure his headache and his shaking but it would also calm him and allow him to clear his head. Harry never felt much of anything when he was on the potion, just…serenity. Then he could simply take the next day off to recover and tell Lupin he was ill, no one would be any the wiser.
The clock in the room and the clock in his head chimed simultaneously, as if accompanying his decision. Scurrying forward the rest of the way Harry reached on hand blindly into the box, shaking, clammy fingers meeting cool, soothing glass. Hastily, Harry poured what he hoped was about half of the solution into his mouth and closed his eyes as he swallowed, almost groaning in pleasure at his body's response. His aching muscles immediately relaxed and radiated comfort. He tipped his head back enjoying the rush and roar in his ears, remaining in place until his bones glowed warm and a door banged somewhere below him.
Shoving the box as hard as he could, Harry stood and paused to let the rush subside slightly. He took quick note of his faculties. He could walk and see and he thought he could stay awake, at least for now. He didn't feel like immediately collapsing as when he took a full dose anyway, just very very mellow. He wasn't shaking at all.
He could do this.
"Potter!' an impatient voice barked from downstairs.
Harry stiffened and then relaxed once more as another wave of pure pleasure assaulted him. He took a shaky breath, hoping he hadn't overdone the dosage and started towards the staircase to meet the dark denizen of the dungeons himself.
Snape was waiting by the bottom of the stairs, wearing his customary dark attire and an impatient expression. At his somewhat shaky arrival, Snape's lip curled and he walked brusquely towards the drawing room, clearly expecting Harry to follow.
'I see I was overly optimistic in thinking you could follow simple instructions or, indeed, count' Snape threw over his shoulder.
Harry frowned as his limbs missed a beat before responding to his mental request for him to move and followed after Snape, putting one foot in front of the other carefully.
Snape paused at the drawing room doorway.
'Faster, Potter, my time is actually valuable. Walking slowly isn't going to make this situation more bearable I promise you'
Harry blinked at that. He hadn't realised he was walking slower than usual. He doubled his efforts and found the drawing room cleared of furniture, other than a single stool that stood in the middle of the floor. Absently, Harry wondered whether Snape was going make him stand on it, then fix a noose to his neck and kick it from under him. It wouldn't surprise him.
Shutting the door smartly, Snape spun and narrowed his eyes at Harry. Harry held his gaze, forcing his eyes to refocus whenever his stare got too deep. He felt himself sway slightly.
The silence echoed off the walls and then Snape's impatient voice did the same.
'What's the matter with you, Potter?'
Harry squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, this time looking at the floor. He sat down heavily on the stool behind him and relaxed a little when his surroundings seemed to steady slightly.
'Nothing'
'Some respect if it's not too much for you, potter.'
'Nothing, sir'
Snape sneered down at him. 'Missing your beauty sleep?'
Harry set his jaw. 'Just a little dizzy, sir. I think I'm getting over a bug or something.'
There was a pause like Snape was considering his answer and Harry kept his face carefully neutral.
'Have you eaten today at least?' Snape
Like you care, Harry thought.
'No…stomach's still a bit off.'
Snape made an unimpressed noise in the throat.
'Next time don't be so foolish and make sure you're fed. You're about to spend two hours attempting to prevent me from penetrating your defences and I actually want you to try this time Potter, so you will need the energy.' He paused for a moment. 'Where's your lupine housemaid?'
Harry hesitated, his eyes still fixed on the floor. He let Snape's words spill over him but it was like he was hearing them through a bubble, one that was thickening by the second.
'Don't know'. He murmured at bubble Snape.
'Shirking his duties? The headmaster will be disappointed'. The potion masters words were laced with something that Harry vaguely felt like he should object to. But he didn't.
'We had fight'. Harry frowned as his jaw struggled to form the words clearly, he felt like he was trying to talk through molasses.
The words that rang back of him were muffled and echoic. A few of the words broke through the bubble and shimmered in front of Harry's face. 'How sentimental…' '…tail between his legs…' '…prepare yourself, Potter'. Harry started a bit at the last part.
Prepare himself? Prepare himself for what? His neck felt like Jelly but he pushed his chin up to look at Snape, only to find himself at wandpoint. Staring dumbly whilst his mind struggled to keep up with what was happening, Harry just watched as the man intoned 'Legilimens!' and he felt himself hit like by an unforgiving, icy, ocean wave.