On Boxing Day, Poppy Pomfrey sent a rush owl requesting quick-acting fever reducer, child-strength. Severus filled the emergency order by return owl and promised her a visit by end of day to discuss her second term potions needs.
Requests like that from Poppy were not uncommon, and as Hogwarts potions made up fully a quarter of his income, he was happy to comply, even on Boxing Day.
So it was that at 4 p.m., after trudging in the snow from his cottage to Hogwarts in his cussed determination to get some exercise in the dreary winter months, he entered the infirmary and found Poppy hovering over a cot in the corner. The cot's occupant was sleeping, peacefully it seemed, but the man at the side of the cot looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"Harry, you've got to get home and get some sleep," said Poppy. "He's turned the corner. He'll be fine."
"I'll sleep here again," said Potter, rubbing tired eyes.
"I'll stay with him while you're gone, Harry," cajoled Poppy. He shook his head tightly, and she sighed, then turned her head toward the clock on the wall and noticed Severus for the first time.
"Ah, Severus, good timing," she said brightly. "How about doing me a big favor?" He nodded cautiously, meeting Potter's eyes.
"Escort our Mr. Potter home and make sure he gets something to eat and a good nap. Molly and Arthur have the other children so there's no excuse for Harry not to catch a few hours of much-needed sleep." She looked pointedly at Harry.
Severus stared at her then over at Potter again. Potter, for his part, stared at Poppy too.
"But…" he began.
"But nothing. You are to get home, get cleaned up, get a warm meal in you and take a two-hour nap. Then, and only then, will you be allowed back in the infirmary. Albus is going to be fine. The sleeping draught will last at least another six hours. You are doing him no favors by wearing yourself out."
Severus suppressed a smile and rolled his eyes at Harry.
"Come then, Potter, before she turns us both into ferrets," he said. He let his eyes stray down to the sleeping child. A familiar mop of dark hair peaked out above the coverlet.
"Appendicitis," said Poppy. "With it being Christmas and all, it was easy to think the pain was from over-eating or excitement. It was touch and go for a night but your fever-reducer worked like a charm."
Potter kissed his son on the forehead then stood up and gathered his heavy outer robe from the bed next to Albus'. "I'll humor you," he said, turning to Poppy, "because you've been so good to Al…I know you have his best interest at heart." He walked slowly over to where Severus still stood by the hall door. His limp was more pronounced than usual and Severus guessed he had been keeping a bedside vigil for quite some time.
"And yours too, Mr. Potter," she said to his back. She watched curiously as the two wizards left the room, then sank into a chair by the child's bedside.
They walked in silence for the most part, and although Harry clearly did not think it necessary that Severus continue to babysit him after they got back to his cottage, he allowed the older man into his home when Severus followed him up to the door.
"Cooking supplies in the usual places, I assume?" said Severus as he dropped his cloak onto a handy chair and made his way to the kitchen, stepping over Christmas toys in the hallway.
"Of course, but…." Harry followed him and watched in amazement as Severus began pulling items from the fridge.
"I believe Poppy mentioned a bath," he said as he critically catalogued the food and made a mental decision to begin with an omelet.
"Right," said Harry as he watched the older man melt butter in a skillet. "Bath." He turned slowly and left the kitchen and Severus picked up a knife, sighed, did a quick sharpening spell, and began work.
The omelet, Severus decided, was adequate. He'd been moving it from pan to plate when Harry walked into the kitchen, barefoot, with wet, tousled hair and wearing a pair of cotton sleep pants and a Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirt. Severus had eyed the t-shirt and rolled his eyes and Harry had laughed. His laugh was rich, and deep, and genuine, and Severus could not keep the corners of his mouth from turning up in, if not a smile, then at least a smirk.
Bacon and toast accompanied the meal, and Severus felt transported to his Hogwarts teaching days as he watched the younger man butter his fourth piece of toast, fold it over, and eat it in two bites.
"I'll clean up," said Harry when they were done eating, but Severus shook his head.
"Poppy says you're to sleep for two hours. Go…I'll wake you when it's time."
And Harry had gone, albeit reluctantly. But not back to his own bed, as Severus had expected he would, but to the comfortable old couch in the living room where he'd been resting the last time Severus had been in the home. It faced the fireplace, and Severus heard the flames flare up as he began clearing dishes.
A half hour later, there was no evidence of an omelet dinner, nor of the accumulated dishes from several days before that. Severus wiped his hands on a tea towel, wondering not for the first time who made and sold Quidditch-themed kitchen linens. Not having brought any reading material with him, and having already read the Prophet that day, he started toward the living room in search of a book. He paused in the short passageway between the kitchen and the living room to study the photographs on the wall. Granger, Weasley and Potter posed by the edge of the lake at Hogwarts, Granger in the middle, and all with arms about the others. Sixth year, guessed Severus. There was no seventh year, of course, for those three—and by this time even Harry had several inches on Granger. Potter and Ginny Weasley…must have been the same day….he stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her shoulders. He looked… happy… Snape decided. Black and Lupin. Now that was unexpected. Must have been taken during the short time between Black's return from Azkaban and when the veil claimed him. James and Lily. Of course. Probably resurrected from the Potter family vault. Harry and Ginny on their wedding day. He paused longer here, looking intently at the picture. From the setting he could tell it was a small and private ceremony, outside, probably at the Weasley residence in Ottery St. Catchpole. Granger and Weasley were in the picture too, smiling, holding champagne flutes. Little Teddy Lupin stuck out his tongue in the next photo, also from the wedding. His tiny dress robes matched his turquoise hair.
The passageway ran out and he walked quietly into the living room. The sofa faced away from him, toward the fireplace, but he could hear Harry's steady breathing. As expected, more pictures in this room, mainly of the children, but Severus was happy to see bookshelves beside the fireplace. He was a bit surprised that Harry had collected so many books, and half expected most to be Quidditch-related.
He chanced a backwards glance at the sleeping man. Harry lay on his back, one arm behind his head and the fingers of the other tucked just inside the elastic of his sleeping pants. The narrow strip of skin exposed between T-shirt and pants was perfectly flat but he could see the lines of a raised scar crossing the expanse. He stared longer than he should, his eyes moving from abdomen to chest to stubbled cheek. He turned quickly back to the books.
The books. Ahh, the books. He reached up and removed "Hogwarts, an Updated History" and found it signed, as expected, by its new editor, Hermione Granger-Weasley. He owned the book himself and knew she had done an admirable job, especially with the addition of the chapter on Albus Dumbledore. But on the page opposite her signature he found something odd—an ordinary white envelope glued to the page, flap open. He reached inside, curious, and drew out a handful of newspaper clippings. The first was a review of the book itself, cut from the Arts section of the Prophet. The next he unfolded was about the restoration of the castle following the final battle. But more….less expected. An article from the society pages about Granger and Weasley's wedding. Announcements of the births of their children. One about Hermione being appointed Transfiguration professor. And at the back, more faded than the others, two articles from muggle newspapers about the mysterious disappearance of the Drs. Granger.
He carefully replaced the papers, closed the envelope and book, and returned it to its shelf. A backward glance at Harry showed him that the young father was still sound asleep. He scanned the shelf and pulled down a tome on lycanthropy. Another envelope. Articles this time on Remus Lupin, on the Ministry's changing policy on non-human magical creatures, a feature on his posthumous Order of Merlin, the "hero" feature page the Prophet had done on the heroes of the war in the weeks following Voldemort's final demise, the weeks he spent in hospital then waiting for his trial. He himself had been featured in the Prophet, the article titled rather unimaginatively, "Severus Snape—Hero or Villain?"
Knowing what to look for now, he found Arthur Weasley in All Things Muggle and George and his ill-fated twin in Keeping Light in Times of Trouble. One by one he pulled down Standing Tall with the Giants, Stars of the Winter Sky, Playing Chess Like a Champion, Practical Guide to Becoming an Animagus, Dragon Breeds of Africa. His fingertips had skimmed by Most Potente Potions several times before he allowed them to stop on the book and carefully remove it from its resting place.
His stomach knotted in uncharacteristic nervousness as he opened the book. He knew before opening it that the envelope would be particularly fat. The book did not close properly. Severus, for good or ill, had been featured in the paper quite often in the months following the final battle.
He removed the sheaf from the envelope, carefully unfolded it, and started leafing through the pages. The knot in his stomach tightened. Harry had been thorough. But accusations and trials were followed by several items from the Argentinean wizard press on his work group's contributions. More articles from the Prophet from the years he was gone. What? He re-read a headline. Someone… someone had petitioned the Ministry for an Order of Merlin…for him, for Severus Snape. He skipped by those, all the way to the end (glancing briefly at a review from a French newspaper of a Potions textbook he had edited) and found, as he knew he would, the article from September about Harry's "bar fight."
He closed the book after replacing the contents, reshelved it, and went in search of the loo. When his face was clear and set again, reserved and stoic as usual, he returned to the living room and chose a neutral book from a different shelf and sat down to read. Harry didn't keep his heart on this sleeve after all. He kept it in his library, and Severus doubted very much he loaned out his books to friends.