CHAPTER 2

A/N: Thank you for your reviews and not being (too) mad at me for deleting That Special Touch. I am thinking of making a one-shot out of it instead, with a blind Harry who is living quietly in his own little home after the war with a guide dog. Far from being angered or embittered by his fate, Harry is a cheerful and happy young man who enjoys regular interactions with his friends and "surrogate" family. Harry pays Spinner's End a visit one day to thank Severus for saving his life, and Severus finds himself reluctantly impressed…

Something else: maybe some of you remember Flawed Lines by Diagonalist (one of the wonderful Snarry stories which inspired me to write my own Snarries). The author deleted her account and story (at least, I think that's what happened, and I think it's a her), and I was upset to discover that author and story had vanished from schnoogle as well. I searched relentlessly and managed to find it on a Harry Potter site hosting contests. You can find the link to Flawed Lines on my profile page.

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Severus's eyes blazed dangerously as he glowered at Dumbledore.

"Reparo!" Dumbledore said calmly, pointing his wand at the teacup, which promptly fixed itself with a faint tinkling sound. Severus bent, picked it up and shoved it onto its saucer.

"I have already agreed to teach Potter-" he fairly spat out the name, "the art of Occlumency, which is, frankly speaking, beyond his limited intellectual capacities. As it is, I am forced to tolerate his useless presence in my Potions class – how you managed to convince me to take him and others with an 'Exceeds Expectations' in their OWLs will always remain a mystery to me – I should have accepted students with only an 'Outstanding' for NEWT Potions…But to come back to the point: duelling lessons with Potter are out of the question, Albus. There is only so much of the brat's presence I can tolerate."

"I asked you to give him Occlumency lessons. Now I am asking you again, Severus. Please give Harry duelling lessons. He has to be prepared. Voldemort has been silent since the fiasco at the Ministry, and that can only mean one thing besides the information you have been hearing at the Death Eater meetings. Voldemort is preparing for war on the wizarding world. And unfortunately, it is up to seventeen-year-old Harry Potter to defeat him in the end. He is definitely less rebellious now, Severus. Time has passed since the last Occlumency lessons. Please give him and yourself another opportunity to at least work together to attain a common goal."

The two wizards stared at each other so intensely that Fawkes, who had been nibbling at a pile of sunflower seeds and had ignored Severus's outbursts, raised his beautiful head and studied them with alert beady eyes. He opened his beak and uttered a single clear note.

Severus leant back and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples for a few seconds.

"Occlumency on Monday evening and duelling lessons on Friday night for Potter," he said flatly.

"Thank you, Severus. I am eternally in your debt," the Headmaster said sincerely.

Severus merely responded with a curl of his lip.

Harry was forced to miss class for the next two weeks. He could not even do his homework because of the ferocity of the withdrawal symptoms. Ron and Hermione were allowed to visit Harry in the evenings. Harry had to spend his days battling withdrawal symptoms which made his whole body, but especially his head, ache. He slept very badly at night and had feverish sweating bouts. A few times, he saw a tall black-robed figure glide into the ward, mostly at night, and give Madam Pomfrey a vial, the contents of which he had to drink along with his supper. Severus Snape was obviously brewing a potion which was necessary for his treatment. His appetite, too, was disrupted. From not being at all hungry he would suddenly experience fits of ravenous hunger. He was relieved that the Potions Master did not approach his bed or even bother to glance in his direction, though Harry suspected that he was probably gloating about his, Harry's, present condition. After all, Severus had mentioned that it was easy to become addicted to Sleeping Potions. Harry had come across the same warning written in a book during his OWL exam revisions. But he had ignored the warnings. And now, lying in the hospital wing, he felt stupid and childish. He knew that if someone else had spoken the same words of caution, then he would have taken them more seriously. But because it had been Severus Snape, whom he mistrusted and hated, he had defiantly chosen to ignore him.

"Thank goodness your bed is next to Harry's, Ron," Hermione murmured as she sat on a chair near the head of his bed. Ron had noticed the first signs of addiction. The stertorous breathing at night, the dilated pupils and faraway look in the green eyes when Harry got up in the morning; and during the day, irritability, snappiness and fits of tiredness. The secret was out when Ron saw Harry hastily stuff a bottle in the top drawer of his bedside table. The signs were so clear that Ron, who was not naturally perceptive, had opened the drawer during Harry's absence to confirm his suspicions. Before he could take Harry to task, Harry had collapsed in Charms the next day, making Flitwick topple down in shock from his pile of books, and triggering a state of general consternation in the classroom which soon spread all over the school. After Hermione and Ron left, Harry had a little dinner, gulped down his potion and went to sleep. Severus soon entered the ward and handed Madam Pomfrey a vial of potion for the next night.

"He is improving," the matron said, "he is sleeping properly for the first time in nights. I hope he can leave in three or four days."

"May I see?" the Potions Master asked. Madam Pomfrey nodded, somewhat surprised that the wizard who hated Harry would want to look at him. He gave her a curt nod of thanks and approached Harry's bed. Harry was lying on his side, hands tucked underneath his chin. His untidy fringe was sticking up, revealing part of the famous scar. He looked like a child in his sleep, his eyelashes deeply black against his pale cheek. Severus placed his palm on Harry's forehead for a moment before walking back to Madam Pomfrey.

"Three days should suffice. His temperature seems stable enough now."

He left the ward, and he was itching to unleash his temper on the youth as soon as possible. He began to flex his long fingers with relish. First, he would upbraid the Potter brat for his idiocy. Then he would give him the…good…news about the extra lessons. And tell him some more unpleasant truths about his idiocy. Finally, he would tell him when and where the lessons would take place, and polish up the information with a last round of observations about the inheritance of idiocy, especially where paternal genes were involved.

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