Yet Another Snape Meets the Dursleys Story: by rabbit
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize isn't mine.
Chapter 17: The Sleeper
Summary: Harry gets some needed information.
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Harry nearly fell over, spinning to see who had come up behind him. Luckily, Professor McGonagall had a firm grip on his shoulder, and she steadied him, plucking away Snape's wand with her free hand. "Extractus Toxinus, and with Severus' own wand?" she murmured, plainly unable to think of a set of circumstances that might lead to this strange pass. She fixed Harry with a stern eye. "I'd like an explanation for this, Mr. Potter."
Harry startled himself, and her, by taking a half-step forward and burying his face against her shoulder, "Professor McGonagall!" his voice was muffled by the cloth and the beginning of tears. "I thought he was dead -- he might be dying!" She tucked Snape's wand away, under his pillow, and then steered Harry awkwardly over to the other bed. He let himself be guided, holding as tightly as he could to the snowglobe so it wouldn't fall. She sat with him next her, and let him cry on her robes for a little while, . "There, there, Potter. It may not as bad as all that." She summoned a handkerchief and substituted it for the globe. "Blow your nose and lay down and I'll take a look at Severus, shall I?"
Harry nodded around the square of cloth. "Yes, please."
McGonagall went back to the window, putting the snowglobe on the sill. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and studied Snape for several minutes, which gave Harry a chance to try to stop crying. He watched as she cast a spell that sent blue light fluttering over the supine Snape. "Well?" Harry asked, nervously, when she didn't say anything.
McGonagall shook her head, absently, still watching the blue light. As she moved her wand the light followed the gesture, up towards Snape's head. "Why Extractus Toxinus, Mr. Potter? Has he been poisoned?"
"I don't think so," Harry said. "But when he cast it on me, he said something about it taking away fatigue poisons. And I know he's tired. He said so."
She dispelled the light and turned towards Harry, one eyebrow high. "Perhaps," she said drily, "You should begin at the beginning."
Harry ran a hand through his hair, trying to remember it all in sequence. "I ... I wrote Professor Snape for an antidote, but instead of sending it, he came. And then it wasn't Hedwig that was poisoned it was me, so he used my mum's snowglobe to get it out, and that made me feel better, and he said it was because I didn't have any fatigue poisons, but it made him so tired I thought he was going to faint. He drank some potion later that made him feel better, but... then... when I woke up..." Harry swallowed, hard. "Do you think maybe he's not dying?"
"You don't know which potion, do you?" she asked.
Harry shook his head. "It was blue. And the bottle's still in his coat pocket. On the right." He wished she'd just say whether or not Snape was dying. Then Harry could stop shaking and go back to sleep. "He said I couldn't have any, even if there were any left."
She retrieved the empty vial and sniffed at it. "Endurance Potion," she said. "I should have known." She sighed and came back over to stand beside Harry, casting the blue light once again. It felt like warm rain against Harry's skin. When he fidgeted under her scrutiny, she began talking to calm him down. "Professor Snape is not dying, Mr. Potter. He's resting. Rather thoroughly."
"Resting?" Harry's voice cracked with disbelief.
She hesitated for a moment, considering, "A more accurate description would be dormant."
"Dormant?" Harry repeated. It didn't make sense. Trees went dormant in the winter, he knew that from Herbology.
"So I believe." McGonagall looked as if she'd thought she'd explained it.
"But... do you mean he's in a coma? I mean, people don't go dormant." Harry pressed. His head was starting to ache.
"Muggles don't," she said, nodding agreement. "Neither do most wizards. But there are a few... I went to school with Severus' grandfather, and he was always late to school in the autumn because he was waiting until his mother woke up for the winter."
"Do you mean Snape goes to sleep every summer?" He does spend his summer in a coffin. Ron was right.
"No," McGonagall said. "I've never known Severus himself to go dormant before this, actually. But he's not badly injured, he's not poisoned, and he's not ill. I think he's just exhausted." She dispelled the light. "You, on the other hand, are feverish. And you're liver isn't right."
"I told you, I was poisoned," Harry said impatiently. "It was an accident, but Snape... Professor Snape, I mean, took it all out. I keep going from hot to cold now. I still don't understand about the going dormant part. Why?"
She pushed Harry back against the pillows and rearranged the blankets while she explained. "Do you remember Fleur Delacour?"
"Of course I do," Harry said. I dreamt about her a lot last term. And I don't think I was the only one.
"And Hagrid, of course," McGonagall went on, although Harry didn't see the connection. "The thing is, that some wizarding families have chosen to blend with other... other magical species as a way to preserve their families and their power."
Harry thought about that through the soft fog that wanted to settle over him. "Do you mean Snape's not all human?"
She looked down at him. "Does that make a difference?"
"Well, it means I owe Ron a dozen Sickles," Harry said, and then bit his lip because he'd said it out loud and backpedalled quickly. "I mean... well... I suppose not. Should it?"
"No more than having Muggle grandparents should, I should think," McGonagall said. "Although it does mean that some of the students who come to Hogwarts have special requirements."
"I bet Dumbledore lets them come anyway. Like he let Professor Lupin come." Harry thought that was a good thing, on the whole, although he wondered if some of the Slytherins might be more dangerous than they looked. And with Millicent Bulstrode that was saying something. He turned his head to look over at Snape – who still looked frankly dead. "He's not a... not a vampire, is he? I mean, vampires hate werewolves. You see it in all the films."
"No, Mr. Potter, he's not a vampire."
"Are you going to take him back to Hogwarts with you?" Whatever he was, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to be in the same room with Snape in this condition. He'd probably die anyway, just to make Harry look bad.
McGonagall got up and walked over to the window, looking out and up. She frowned and checked her pocketwatch. Harry could see that the sky was beginning to change. It would be morning soon. Her glasses shone silver with light from the streetlamp as she considered. "He'd be safer here," she said, and she didn't sound very happy about it.
"Safer here?" Harry said. "If Aunt Petunia gets out, she'll have him arrested! If she doesn't just put a stake through his heart!"
"Then you'll have to protect him," she turned to Harry. "You've got that letter to cover any magic you do," she went on, rubbing her hands together thoughtfully, speaking more softly, as if to herself. "And until Albus returns, it's better that no one is quite sure where Severus is. I can persuade Arthur and Hopkirk to hold their tongues without too much difficulty."
"But... but... you mean, Snape's going to stay here the rest of the summer?" Harry couldn't believe it, and he wished he had the energy to get out of bed and argue about it. "Couldn't you stay instead?"
"That's the one thing I cannot do," she said, suddenly quite serious. "If I don't return to Hogwarts soon -- quite soon -- well..." she cut off the explanation. "It won't be for the whole summer, Harry. A few days at most. Just until Professor Dumbledore gets back."
"But I'm sick," Harry pointed out, not even bothering to not whine. "I'm getting better, but I can't look after him properly."
"I'll send you some help," she promised, looking out the window again. "Hide Severus in the cellar if you must, but keep him safe." She pulled out her wand and cast a quick spell at Snape, transfiguring his cloak and coat into what looked like a gray nightshirt where it showed above the blankets.
"What if I get into trouble?" Harry asked.
"Have you a fireplace?"
"Yes."
She pulled something that looked like a firecracker out of her pocket. "If you're desperate, throw this in the fire. But only if you really need help." She set it on the bedstand by Harry and laid a hand against his face. "By the time you wake up, you'll have some help here. I promise."
"But..." But she was already casting the sleep spell. Harry fought against it, but the thick warm darkness was too much for him, and he faded away, dreaming of Snape trapped inside the snowglobe on a mantelpiece over an electric fire.