The next couple of days at Spinner's End were tense, to say the least, with Harry snapping at Severus every time that he entered the room, and Severus spending as much time in his basement potions lab as possible, to avoid snipping back at the boy.
Severus knew, from the many times Harry had been in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, that the boy was always this way when recovering from an illness or injury, so he thought it best to leave him alone and let him rest and heal, in peace.
Severus was in the basement brewing healing potions and Skele-Gro for the school's hospital when he heard feet slapping on the floor above his head. "Sweet Merlin, does the boy stomp everywhere he goes?" he wondered out loud, as he headed upstairs.
When he got to the top of the stairs, he paused for a moment, gaping, taking in the sight: Harry Potter in his kitchen, in nothing but his boxers, digging in the cabinets for food, like he hadn't seen food in a month.
"I see your appetite has returned," he remarked.
"Yeah, got anything good to eat in this place?" Harry asked.
"I assure you, there is plenty to eat, what would you like?" Severus asked, a little surprised at the change in the boy's mood.
"Anything. Everything. I'm famished," he said, stretching.
Severus couldn't help but notice the fine toned muscles in the boy's chest and abdomen as he stretched toward the ceiling. He thought of running his hands down those muscles, learning each and every inch of that smooth white skin, but quickly banished the thought from his head and pointed the boy to the refrigerator.
"Eat anything you like, I need to go back downstairs and check on my potion," he said, hurriedly leaving the room.