Disclaimer: Breaking News—I do not own Harry Potter

Chapter Five: Uncertain Ground

Somehow, Severus made it back down to the dungeons and into bed. Resentfully, he admitted to himself that he did need someone to take care of him. But goddamnit he hated it!

As soon as they reached Snape's office, the Potions Master fell into a restless sleep. After assuring Madam Pomfrey that he would be fine and that he would Floo her if anything happened, Harry sat down and examined his professor. Snape looked awful. His skin was waxy and his face was lined with pain. His shoulders shook underneath the blankets. Despite his assurances to Madam Pomfrey, it felt wrong for him to be sitting here alone with Snape, watching the man sleep fitfully, listening to his labored breathing. Feeling uncomfortable, Harry pulled out his holiday homework, which he had brought down with him, and began to read a chapter from his Transfiguration textbook.

Half an hour later, Harry was interrupted by a small moan. He looked down at Snape. The Potions Master was still asleep, but he was moving restlessly and shivering. Harry put down his homework and nervously placed a hand on Snape's shoulder.

"It's alright," said Harry, moving his hand in gentle circles. "You'll get better." He brought his hand to Snape's forehead. "Merlin, Professor...you've got a really bad fever..."

Harry bit his lip. He was starting to think that this was a really bad idea. Snape hated him, he was thirteen, what was he supposed to do? What could he do? But he had to do something. Never mind that Snape hated him, never mind that he had always tried to make Harry as miserable as possible, Snape had taken care of him while he was ill and delirious. And now Snape was sick, very sick, and it was because of Harry. Harry felt horribly guilty.

Moving his hand back to rest on Snape's shoulder, Harry said "How in the world did you take care of me while you were like this?"

"What choice did I have?"

Harry started. He hadn't realized the Potions Master was awake.

"Professor, you're awake! Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do? How do you feel?"

"How do you think I feel, Potter?" said Severus through chattering teeth. How he felt was miserable. He could barely think coherently enough to answer Potter's questions.

Severus felt a small hand cup his head, and another brought a goblet full of potion to his lips. He recognized this potion, he had brewed it himself for Potter.

"Drink this," said Harry.

Severus drank. The buzzing in his head lessened ever-so-slightly and he was able to look at Potter. The boy looked terrified.

"Don't look like that, Potter," said Severus, "you look as though I was going to bite your head off. I can barely move."

Far from reassuring Harry, this only made the boy look even more wretched.

"Don't look like that, Potter," Severus repeated.

"I'm sorry," whispered Harry. "It's just that you look so..."

"Terrible? Pathetic? Horrid?"

"Ill," said Harry.

"Imagine that,"muttered Severus.

Severus began to cough violently and Harry struggled to get him into a sitting position. Severus helped as much as he could, but he was so damn weak.

Harry rubbed Snape's back. "Breathe, Professor, breathe. Oh, Merlin, Professor, it'll be okay. Breathe."

Severus clutched Harry for support as his coughs became gasps and then his breathing eased back to something resembling normal. Harry held a cup of water to his lips and Severus drank until he had his voice back.

"Thank you, Potter," he said raspily.

"This was a stupid idea," said Harry. "I'll get Madam Pomfrey. She knows what to do. I don't. I—"

Severus grabbed Harry's wrist as he tried to leave.

"No. Potter, I'd rather"—he cleared his throat painfully—"I'd rather you stayed."

"You—would?" asked Harry incredulously.

"Yes, Potter, I would," said Severus. "I'm not a sadistic git all the time."

"No! Professor, that's not what I—"

"Don't tell tell me you've never said it," said Severus, raising an eyebrow.

Harry looked down, shame-faced. "I—I don't think so anymore," he mumbled.

Severus was touched.

"Look, Harry—" Severus began coughing again, tremors wracking his body.

Harry, emboldened by his professor's attitude, put his arm around Snape's shoulders.

"Shh, Professor, don't talk," he said. "You've got a terrible fever. Go back to sleep."

Lying back down, Severus eyed Potter through half-closed lids. "You are the most confounding child I have ever met, Potter," he muttered, before drifting off to sleep again.

Somehow, Harry thought, this almost felt almost like a compliment.

*****CTC*****

Harry had fallen asleep curled up on the floor beside Snape's bed. He knew that the couch out in the other room would be more comfortable, but he was supposed to be looking after his professor and he didn't want to leave him alone. After all, Snape hadn't left him alone.

When Severus awoke he know it was very late. His headache had lessened and he could move without wincing as long as he moved slowly. Leaning over the side of the bed, he saw the small form of Potter sleeping on the floor.

Never a heavy sleeper, Harry opened his eyes when he heard the bed creak above him.

"Potter, what are you doing down there?" said Severus.

"Er—sleeping?" said Harry. "You're awake," he observed. "How are you feeling?"

"How very observant of you," Severus noted. "I am, indeed, awake. Is there any particular reason you are sleeping on the floor?"

"Er—" said Harry. "There isn't another bed."

"There is, however, a couch out in my office," said Severus.

"But that's—you know—out there," said Harry.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Master of the Obvious, Potter."

Harry raised himself onto his knees and pressed a hand against Severus's forehead. He frowned.

"You've still got a really bad fever, Professor," said Harry.

"No, really?" said Severus sarcastically. "Is that why I feel like I've been run over by a herd of hippogriffs?"

Harry gave a sort of half-smile, unsure whether he should be amused or not. In the past, Snape's sarcasm had always been cruel and usually directed at him or his friends, but when he wasn't being mean the man could actually be funny, in a very dry sort of way.

"Sit up on the bed, Potter," said Severus. "I'm getting a crick in my neck looking down at you."

Harry immediately jumped up, but he hesitated before sitting down on Snape's bed.

Severus sighed. "Harry, relax. Sit down."

Harry sat. Severus leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes.

A cool cloth was pressed to his forehead.

"That'll help your headache, Professor," said Harry.

"How did you know I had a headache?" asked Severus, surprised.

"Yesterday was the first time in two weeks that I haven't had a headache," Harry pointed out.

Severus had to admit he had a point.

"Professor..." Harry ventured after a moment.

"What is it, Potter?" sighed Snape, rubbing his temples.

"Er—why did you take care of me? When I was ill I mean."

"Like I said before, Potter, what choice did I have?"

Harry fidgeted. "Didn't you know you were getting sick?"

"Stop fidgeting, Potter," said Severus, avoiding the question.

"Sorry, Professor," said Harry quickly. He drew his knees up to his chin. "Er—are you hungry, Professor?"

"No," said Severus, "but I should eat anyway."

"I'll be right back."

Harry hopped off the bed and ran out into Snape's office. A minute later he came back with the food Madam Pomfrey had left, a glass of water, and a goblet of potion.

Severus took the food from the anxious-looking boy. He didn't feel remotely like eating but, knowing he should, he picked up a roll anyway and bit into it.

Harry shifted from foot to foot, unsure what to do. It was uncomfortably strange, standing here, watching his professor picking at the food.

"Harry, sit down," said Severus impatiently. "Stop acting as though you're ready to bolt. You're making me dizzy."

"Oh," said Harry, sitting down on the far side of the bed, and then after a moment, "Are you really feeling dizzy, sir?"

Severus closed his eyes, willing himself to have patience with the child.

"Yes, Harry, I rarely say things that I do not mean."

Harry bit his lip. "So, earlier...that thing about you being on your deathbed..."

Severus suddenly realized why Potter had been acting like a skittish animal.

"Harry," he groaned. "No, I did not mean that I am actually dying. I was being sarcastic."

Severus sat up but then immediately regretted the decision; his vision swam and the world tilted sickeningly.

Seeing Snape sit up and then lurch forward, Harry moved without thinking, leaning across the bed and catching his professor by the shoulders, pushing him back against the headboard.

"Professor? Are you okay?" Harry rose up on his knees beside Snape.

Severus took a deep breath and the world righted itself.

"Yes, Harry, I am fine."

"You're not fine, Professor," said Harry. "You're sick."

"Brilliant observation," retorted Severus dryly. Then he sighed. "If you really want to be of help, Potter, please be quiet so that I can rest. I will talk to you later."

"You will?" said Harry, startled.

"You're such an infuriating little chatterbox, I can hardly help it, Potter." said Severus. "Now do your homework or something."

"Yes, sir," said Harry.

"And Harry?" added Severus.

"Yes, sir?"

"Stop worrying so much."

"Yes, sir."

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