Yet Another Snape Meets the Dursleys Story: by rabbit
Disclaimer: JK Rowling created all these folks.
Chapter 7: The Misunderstanding
Summary: Snape's cleared Harry system of poison, but that's only the beginning of what needs to be done.
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Darkness.
Weariness.
This time he'd do it. He'd let himself fall all the way to the rocks instead of invoking a levitation spell at the last moment. And if no one ever found him it would serve the ends of both sides to pretend that he was working somewhere, hidden away, blending the acids and metals and harsh alkalines into potions of power. Let them. He would be at peace at least, beyond caring which side won. And all he had to do was let himself lean forward.
"Professor Snape?" a young voice. How had a student followed him here? And then, impossibly, the touch of a hand resting against his own. His eyes flew open and found themselves ensnared by eyes of green that could not, could never be, looking back at him again. "Are you all right?"
And then his vision widened, and he saw the tangle of black hair, the crooked scar dark against the pallor of illness. Harry. Snape blinked, and then blinked again, bringing himself back to the present. I'm needed. He swallowed and forced his shoulders to straighten, his face to align itself into the familiar mask before checking on Dudley. Vernon had come back, and Petunia was with him, but they didn't look like they were going to interfere just yet. He turned back to Harry and bent his head forward, letting the hair fall to shade him from the glares of the Dursleys. "Are you?" he asked Harry, certain that he could not answer Harry's question in the presence of such company.
Harry glanced towards his relations and didn't press, "I feel a lot better. Hungry, though. Does this mean I'm cured?"
"It means that the fatigue poisons have also left your system," Snape said carefully, setting the snowglobe, still faintly glowing, onto the shelf near the bed, and then pulling the blankets back up to cover the boy. "Temporarily at least, you should feel much improved, but I doubt it will last long. The damage has your humors too far out of balance to let them realign without any side effects." He checked Harry's forehead. Warmer, already, but not feverish yet. "Some food will help, of course. And you may wish to take the opportunity to bathe."
That distraction was shiny enough. Harry's expression went from concerned to somewhere between relieved and pleading. "Really? Can I have a bath instead of a shower?"
Snape felt his eyebrow go up. He much preferred showers, on the whole, except when he wanted to soak out an ache. Ah. "We'll arrange to keep you from drowning," he said, feeling himself make the final lock back into control. Now he could deal with the Muggles. He turned on his heel, letting the cloak swirl dramatically for effect, and was pleased when Vernon and Petunia shrank in on themselves like first years. "And are the boy's clothes ready, yet?" he asked Petunia, his voice dripping with impatience.
"Nearly," she said. And then she colored with anger. "What have you done to Dudley?"
"Nothing that I cannot undo," Snape told her. "Unlike poisoning defenseless creatures." He turned his focus on Dudley. "Are you in pain, Mr. Dursley?" he asked, pointedly.
Dudley gulped, large eyed, and made a visible decision to tell the truth. "No. I mean, no, sir."
"Let's keep it that way." Snape said. He looked back at Petunia. "Dinner. In twenty minutes?" He made it a question, although by the smells coming up from the downstairs she would have no difficulty, even working under the threat against her son.
She nodded, tight lipped, and stamped out of the room.
That left Vernon. Snape looked him up and down, noting the soggy condition of his shoes. "You brought the trunk, and the mice?"
Vernon straightened nervously. "Of course I did. They're downstairs. When I heard the screaming…"
Snape waved a hand to hush him. He didn't need to hear about the screaming just now. "Put the trunk in the guest room until I can make sure it hasn't been tampered with," he ordered.
"Tampered with?" Dursley stammered. "Impossible. It's still got the locks I put on it."
"Muggle locks?" Snape dismissed them. "When you've done that, bring up the things for the bird and clean out the cage. By that time, I shall have gotten Potter fit for the clean clothes which your wife should at long last have ready. Bring up his pajamas at the very least."
Dursley colored strangely and he looked at Snape as if he had just revealed some kind of hideous growth. "Pervert," he muttered, edging closer to Dudley protectively.
It took Snape twenty seconds to work out what he meant.
It was very nearly the last straw.
Somehow, through the scarlet mist, he managed to haul Vernon down the hallway, away from the children's hearing, before he pinned the grotesque fat fool against the wall. "You accuse me of abusing the boy!" he hissed. "If it weren't that you had locked him in and tried to starve him half to death he wouldn't be in danger of fainting and cracking his skull in the bath!"
"I…I…" Vernon stammered, but Snape was in no mood to listen to him.
"And as for your vile assumption about my motives," Snape went on. "I work with teenagers. They are, as a class, unkempt, uncouth, ungraceful, unfinished, and entirely unattractive! I'd sooner bed a dryad, leaves, bark, and all! At least she might have more to bring to the equation than mindless hormones!"
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Harry sat up in the bed, wondering how on earth Professor Snape had managed to pick up his uncle and haul him out of the room. As pallid as Snape had gone after finishing that antidote spell, Harry wouldn't have thought he had the strength, and he hadn't noticed him using any kind of a spell. "What did Uncle Vernon say?" he asked Dudley.
Dudley flushed, and lied. "I didn't hear." He swiveled his eyes toward the door to the hall. "What do you think he's doing to Daddy?"
"I don't know," Harry said, but he wanted to find out. He pushed off the blankets and swung his legs around to get up, and then paused to let the room stop swaying. "Ooh."
"Did he hurt you?" Dudley asked. Harry nearly laughed. It had to be the first time he'd ever heard Dudley sound like he cared what had happened to him. Probably he was worried about whether or not he came next.
"Yes," he said. "But it helped. I felt worse before." Except that he hadn't been quite so light headed. But the pain from this spell didn't linger the way that pain did from a cruciatus spell. It was already taking on a distance, like something that had happened years before. Harry stood up. The wave of dizziness wasn't as bad because he was expecting it, and after a few deep breaths he felt certain enough of his legs to cross lightfooted to the doorway and sneak a look.
"What's happening?" Dudley was frantic.
"Shh," Harry told him. "I can't hear." But he still couldn't hear. Snape had Uncle Vernon pinned against the farthest bit of wall, and seemed to be telling him off fiercely, but his voice was too soft to make out through the increasingly loud pounding of Harry's heart in his ears. He gave up and let his knees fold so that he ended up sitting by Hedwig's cage. She blinked at him and made a noise in her throat.
"Sorry, Hedwig," he told her, remembering the night she had been so ill he had thought she would die. She had cried out in pain as he held her in her arms until finally they had both fallen asleep with exhaustion, and Harry was beginning to think that if Snape were right, that might have been when he had transferred the poison over to his own body.
"What about Daddy?" Dudley interrupted. Harry sighed and took pity on the lump, just to shut him up.
"He's not turning him into a toad, if that's what you're worried about," he said. "Just giving him a piece of his mind. He'll only feel like he's been skinned. What did Uncle Vernon say?"
"Nothing intelligent," came Snape's voice from the door. "What are you doing out of bed, Potter?"
"I thought I should get Hedwig out of her cage if Uncle Vernon's going to clean it, sir" Harry said, not wanting to put another match to Snape's sputtering fuse. "She doesn't like him much." Beyond Snape he could see Uncle Vernon, scuttling off downstairs like a frightened crab. Snape's eyes were even more like tunnels than usual, and Harry had never seen him looking quite so ragged around the edges. "Are you sure you're all right, Professor?"
Snape closed his eyes, and when he opened them again they were a little saner. "I'm tired, Potter," he said gruffly. He almost looked as if he were going to say more, but if so he changed his mind, and changed the topic. "Let's get you cleaned up, and fed, and then I think we can all take a chance to rest."