Disclaimer: Does anyone ever read these things? If so, the characters herein and their hoggy, warty world do not belong to me in any sense other than the books I bought.
ooOOoo
Chapter 31: Rosier Helps?
The silence was broken by Severus.
"'Scuse me," he muttered before staggering out to a safe distance from the Whomping Willow and throwing up.
Harry ignored James and went over to Severus. "You okay?"
"No." He retched again, this time only bringing up a thin stream of bile.
"Come on. We have to get you to Madam Pomfrey."
"Wait." James stepped in front of them. "What happened?"
"What do you think happened?" Harry snarled. "Your sidekick tried to commit murder. Now get the hell out of my way."
Mouth in a firm line, James reluctantly moved aside, but then fell into step beside Harry, who had Severus' arm around his neck again. The thinner boy smelt uncomfortably of vomit, and from what could be seen in the moonlight, wasn't in good shape. Harry could only hope it wasn't from being infected.
Limned in silver by the full moon now passing its zenith, Sirius met them at the main doors. "James – he knew to call me Padfoot and you Prongs… Look – he's still masquerading as you."
"No, I'm masquerading as me, you great dunderhead," Harry snapped, then dragged Severus, who had tripped over a step, back up to his feet.
"That's his real face, Siri'," James said softly. His own face suggested matters were far from being settled regarding this. "How did he know about our nicknames?"
"Dunno. Where's my wand?"
"Remus ate it," Harry said.
Sirius opened his mouth to say something. He caught the expression of bottled fury on James' face and shut it again. Luckily.
Harry heard him whisper to James, "Is Remus..?"
"About to be put down for attacking a wizard?" Harry butted in. "Possibly. It depends on whether he's turned Severus or not."
Sirius growled, "Snivellus as a werewolf could only be an improvement… might even give him a smaller nose… Merlin, he smells even worse than usual," and squared his shoulders as if readying himself for a fight, but, before he could actually make his threat physical, James, bared teeth white in the darkness, shoved him off into the shadows behind the doors.
The furious whispers of James Potter ripping into Sirius Black faded behind them as Harry dragged Severus up the stairs towards the hospital wing. And good riddance, as far as Harry was concerned. Although it was about time his father put some effort into not being an arse. Well, at least they were back in the castle, with its effortless silence and familiar scents soft around him like a sleeping mother's arms should have been – the arms of a mother Voldemort had denied him a long time before time-travel had denied Harry the illusion of a good and honourable father. But the fact that he was home again put some strength back into his muscles, which had been feeling like perished rubber bands. Now all he had to do was get Severus to the infirmary, call Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore, and –
"Well, well… what have we here? James Potter, out doing no good… Oh, dear… how much blood did we spill tonight?"
All the hairs up the back of Harry's neck stood up at the familiar voice. Knowing what he would find, he turned with a small, private sigh, adjusting Severus' weight as he did so, to see Argus Filch leering at them. Mrs Norris sat at his feet with her tail curled primly around her toes, her large, luminous eyes alight with the same malicious glee in those of her master's.
"We have two students, one of whom has been attacked," Harry replied evenly. "I need to get him to the Infirmary."
"A likely story… what do you say, young Snape? Did Potter get the better of you this time?"
Severus eyed the caretaker owlishly through his mask of blood, making Filch squirm.
"Huh. I think this is something for Professors Boggle and McGonagall to take care of…"
"Fine," Harry huffed. "I suggest you call the headmaster, though. He's the one who will be most interested in this. And he won't appreciate you involving anyone else other than him, I can guarantee you that."
The scowl was so fearsome it was amazing Filch didn't turn himself inside out with the force of making it. "You always were a mouthy little bugger, Potter. Maybe it's time you got your comeuppance…"
"He's not me."
Harry looked around to see James, his hazel eyes cold as he stared down Filch. Sirius stood at his friend's shoulder with his arms crossed. James continued, "And I think he was right about calling for the headmaster."
"That's absolutely true, Argus."
Even Mrs Norris started.
His beard and hair glowing with the faint silvery light of the moon coming in through high windows, Dumbledore had arrived on cat's feet.
Well, Harry amended – not quite. Someone else had arrived on cat's feet. The tabby next to the ancient wizard gave Harry a stern glare. Harry did his best to pretend he didn't know the cat was Professor McGonagall.
"Headmaster, these boys –" Filch began, stabbing a knobbly finger at Harry and Severus, but was cut off by Harry.
"Headmaster, there has been an attack. I think you know what kind." Harry cast a brief glance towards the window, though which could be seen the full moon partially veiled by thin clouds.
Dumbledore's eyes went cold. "How…?" He didn't miss Harry's quick glance back at the two Marauders, although Harry hadn't meant to give them away before he'd had a chance to settle matters himself. The headmaster turned to the wall, where one of the portraits was watching events with barely-concealed interest. "Stephanie, be so good as to go inform Poppy her services are urgently needed."
The portrait of a young woman in yellow robes curtseyed and sped off from frame to frame to the accompaniment of complaints from the occupants of the other paintings as she woke them.
"Mr Potter and Mr Black – you will go to Professor McGonagall's office. Now." His voice was soft, but it brooked no chance for argument. The pair scuttled off after Filch, Mrs Norris, and the Animagus tabby.
Harry, who was unused to seeing Dumbledore angered, blinked as the elderly wizard re-focussed on him. "I'm sorry," he said, not knowing why he should be sorry, but needing to say something. "I should have known this would happen."
Dumbledore shook his head. "It was never your problem to solve. Severus…? Can you make it to the Infirmary or would you like me to transport you there?"
Severus shook his head and winced – but at least he'd managed to get the blood-sticky locks out of his face. "I can walk."
And he did – but only with Harry's help. It was with a great deal of relief that Harry finally got him to stagger in through the open doors of the Infirmary and into the brisk care of a Madam Pomfrey almost identical to that of Harry's time except for a few lines her face had not yet acquired.
"Oh dear… Lie down, Severus. And hold still. I said hold still, my lad. I need to check that bump on your head. Headmaster, that blanket would be best put over your student…" She held her wand over the lump on Severus' head, ignoring the boy's scowl as Dumbledore tucked the blanket around his legs. "A bit of a concussion, but nothing that can't be fixed in a trice," the nurse said, nodding in satisfaction. She tapped the bump with her wand. A few blue sparks shot up and Severus winced, then screwed up his face in embarrassment as the nurse quickly wiped his face with a cleansing spell, following it up with an antiseptic spell to the now-clean wound at his hairline. He didn't get time to protest as Pomfrey put a glass of water to his lips and tilted it so that he had the choice of drinking or getting his front wet. Severus drank.
"Are you all right?" Harry asked, leaning over and ignoring Pomfrey as she switched her attentions to him.
Severus rubbed his head, grimacing at the little flakes of blood Poppy's cleaning spell had missed that floated free and settled onto the fresh white linen brighter than rust. "My head feels clearer, yes. But as for…"
"You're fine, Mr Whoever-you-are," Pomfrey broke in briskly. "As for the rest of your injuries, Severus, the wound is clean. We will need to see about any further complications tomorrow when Professor Boggle has brewed the diagnostic potion. Now wait here while I organise sleepwear for the two of you… Headmaster, if you would be so kind as to …?" She gave Dumbledore a meaningful glance: grownup talk time.
"Harry – will you wait here for me?" asked Dumbledore.
Harry nodded, not really wanting to go anywhere else anyway, and sighed as the nurse and Dumbledore glided out of the room, not liking being patronised but pleased to have this opportunity to have a few words with Severus, who owed him a damn good explanation.
He leaned forward in his chair and linked his fingers to stop himself strangling the other boy. Tomorrow he would be gone. And there would be no-one to watch Severus' back and tell him when he was being thick. "Now, tell me: what could Sirius possibly have said to make you put your life in danger like that?"
Severus hunched his shoulders and wrapped his arms around his blanketed knees. "Mumble-mumble-mumble…"
"Could you say that a little more clearly, please?"
Black eyes glared at him. "I said I knew he was angry with Lupin."
"Yes. And that's always a perfect reason to take his word on anything."
The scowl deepened. "He said that Lupin had to go and take care of something at every full moon. That fitted… and he said that it had something to do with the tunnels you were looking for… I thought that if your Hogwarts was so similar to mine, there might be a tunnel that goes right the way past the barrier you're stuck behind… and there mightn't be any more time for you to find it." (Harry bit his tongue to stop from blurting out that the tunnel to Hogsmeade and the Shrieking Shack would, in Harry's time, be cut off because of the earthen component to Voldemort's Blockade wards.) "…Also there might be some magical item you could use, given how Lupin seems to find it so important. I thought Black was using me to get back at Lupin somehow. That's why I thought he could be trusted – because I thought he'd expect me to hurt Lupin, not… I didn't know he was a werewolf." He looked away, scowling.
"You bloody great idiot. You could have been killed." Harry passed his hand over his face and reminded himself that Robert Python said you should always be patient. He did a quick count to ten. "Don't ever trust Black. Yes, I'm going tomorrow. And no, I'm not going to be happy thinking that he might bump you off when I'm not here to keep an eye out for you."
Severus shrugged, a mix of emotions flickering over his face faster than Harry could follow. He settled on melancholy pleasure. "Black will be expelled over this. He won't be able to kill me."
Harry stared down at his hands, feeling the thin breeze wafting through the window and stirring the white gauzy curtains cool on the sweat drying down the back of his neck. Black would be expelled – the life-debt Severus had owed James would have meant James could argue for his friend to stay – and thus things would be completely different.
Maybe when Harry got back to Hogwarts he'd find that he'd spoken the truth all along – he really did come from an alternative dimension.
Would things be better or worse?
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Poppy Pomfrey bustled back, starched apron rustling over her mediwitch robes. Dumbledore followed more sedately, and paused in front of Harry. "I think matters would be best tackled in the morning, when we have all parties concerned present," Albus said.
Harry, who had been wondering if patience came easier to other people (Horse Mutterers, for example), nodded tiredly. Yes, it was more fair if Remus was involved, but the knowledge of what he'd nearly done would crucify him. If Sirius had thought there was a bit of a rift between them in the past few days, what now? With a nasty twist in his stomach, Harry wondered just how different time was now: was this the trigger which had made Sirius argue for Peter's suitability as Secret Keeper instead of Remus'? With a small jolt, he realised the nurse was asking him something. By the stern set of her mouth she'd probably asked him more than once. "Sorry?"
"Where are you staying?"
"With Severus."
"In Slytherin?" she asked, cocking her head to the side sceptically.
"Not exactly."
"Leave the boy be, Poppy," Dumbledore said gently. "Both of them have had enough trials tonight without your quizzing them." He turned to the boys. "I must stress how important it is that you not discuss tonight's happenings with anyone else."
Harry and Severus nodded, the latter reluctantly. Looking apprehensive, Severus asked if he could go.
"No." Pomfrey put her hands on her hips and looked down at him. "Both of you will stay in here tonight. Are you comfortable with him in the same room?"
She was asking Severus, which was alarming for some reason Harry couldn't put his finger on.
"I'm fine."
"Good." She nodded. "If either of you leave before my say-so I'll have your guts for garters."
Severus nodded morosely. Harry was privately shocked: he'd never heard Madam Pomfrey quite so militant. But then maybe she'd developed it for the few students who needed it.
It seemed to work on Severus, who meekly took the proffered nightgown and slipped behind a screen to get changed. When Harry returned from the same task, he had settled down in bed and pulled his blanket up to his chin.
After Harry had followed suit in the bed next to Severus', Madam Pomfrey relaxed fractionally. "Not a peep out of you two until tomorrow," she admonished with a stern waggle of her finger.
She locked the door behind her.
Harry sighed and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come quickly and stop the thoughts he didn't want running through his head. It was no use second-guessing what had just happened in relation to Pettigrew's betrayal. And despite the animosity he felt towards his father, there was still that small, sick feeling at the possibility of Harry's being involved in his parents' betrayal.
He was just drifting off when Severus asked quietly, "How did you know Lupin was a werewolf? You said you didn't know his revolting cronies from your dimension, and you gave me the impression you didn't know him that well, but you knew he was a werewolf… and what was that Black said about nicknames?"
"I know the signs of lycanthropy. The full moon was the clincher." Harry crossed his fingers under the blanket.
"You're lying."
"Go to sleep."
"That doesn't stop it being a lie."
Harry didn't want to lie anymore. "It's the best I can give you tonight." Harry rolled over. He listened for the soft snores of Severus sleeping. They were a long time in coming.
It was some time more before Harry could find sleep, too.
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The next morning Severus seemed to have forgotten his questions, to Harry's relief. Harry hadn't slept well, having nightmares where the door back into the tunnel had been locked, or the werewolf had broken through it and was chasing after him, but his feet were suddenly wearing lead shoes. At one point he'd thought the werewolf was sneaking up behind him, and woken to hear whispers coming from the room across the hall. It had been a while before he could convince himself that the dream wasn't really happening, and he was safe in Hogwarts. By the looks of him, Severus hadn't slept much better. After breakfast, which they had in the Infirmary, they dressed in silence, as if denying any possibility Severus would test positive for lycanthropy and be forced to stay in bed until the specialists from St Mungo's came to take him away, and for the first time since the first days of Harry's arrival Severus kept his thoughts completely to himself. Something had closed off, and Harry wondered if that question from last night really had been put aside.
"Do you feel better?" he asked.
"I feel fine, thank you," was the unsettlingly polite reply. But Severus wouldn't meet Harry's eyes.
"Good. Because if you're up to it we can go to Hogsmeade. I owe you two boxes of chocolate frogs, remember."
"That's right." But it didn't make him smile, and the inky eyes Harry glimpsed behind straggly locks were as flat and lifeless as the first time he'd seen Snape.
Harry suppressed a shiver. "Well, let's see how it goes."
Why hadn't Robert Python included a chapter in his Horse Mutterer book on what to do when you were back in time with your future enemy who was currently a friend and needed help in dealing with the possibility he'd just been turned into a werewolf – oh, and was beginning to be suspicious about all the lies you'd been telling him?
It would make the book an instant best-seller, if only because Harry would buy every copy.
ooOOoo
The Hogwarts rumour mill kept churning. Perhaps Professor Boggle had let something slip when he went to prepare the potion, although given a taciturnity that would make Snape seem garrulous by comparison it was doubtful. More likely it was because the Marauders and Harry and Severus weren't at breakfast that suspicions were raised in certain quarters. The Slytherin quarter, for instance.
"I don't want to see him," Severus snapped, crawling back into bed and pulling the blanket over his head.
Madam Pomfrey firmed her jaw and jerked the blanket back down. She returned Severus' glare with interest. "Evan Rosier is worried about you. The least you can do is let him know you are unhurt."
"We don't know that, do we. And he's not worried – he's making sure of information."
"Mr Snape, at least try and pretend you are a sweet-tempered lad…"
"What happened to honesty? Between you and Dumbledore this place is one big untruth." He pulled the blanket back up.
Pomfrey planted her hands on her hips. Before she could draw her wand, Harry intervened. "I'll go out and explain to him that Severus isn't well. How's that?"
Pomfrey huffed. "I suppose that would do." She smacked one blanket-covered foot lightly. "All right, Sunshine and Happiness. You stay here and be good while Mr Lovegood goes out and acts as your press agent."
The blanket mumbled something.
Pomfrey shook her head. "Come along, Harry."
She led Harry out into the corridor where Evan Rosier was waiting, leaning up against a wall and idly exchanging glares with James Potter who was leaning against the opposite wall with his arms folded. No wands were in sight, but Harry suspected they were close to hand. The Fat Friar drifted through one wall next to Rosier and passed through the other by James. Neither boy took their eyes off the other.
The nurse cast the eye of experience over the pair. "Evan, here's Harry Lovegood to explain about Severus. Yes, before you ask, it is Mr Lovegood. Headmaster Dumbledore has assured me quite strongly of this fact. Now play nicely, children. Don't make me come back out here." She bustled back into the Infirmary, closing the door behind her with a cry of, "Mr Snape, did I say you could examine my stores?"
Harry ignored James and turned to Rosier, who was glaring at him suspiciously. He sighed. "First of all, Rosier, it's me. Harry. There's been a bit of weird spellcraft going on, and now I look like James Potter." That was true. If you viewed it at a certain angle. "But, if you look carefully," he added, lifting his fringe, "you'll see I still have the curse-scar and green eyes."
"And your nose is different," James added.
Harry ignored him – James thought he was being helpful, did he?
Rosier sneered at James. "What are you doing here, Potter? Shouldn't you be circling up on your broom? Tell you what, if you be a good little chap and bugger off I'll let you know when Snape has drawn his last breath and you can come in for the carrion. How's that?"
James reddened. Harry couldn't be bothered with an argument (and he was still finding it weird when anyone said Potter' when referring to someone else), so he said to Rosier, "Severus is still asleep…"
"Really?" Evan raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "So that was another Snape Pomfrey was yelling at?"
"No," Harry said, appreciating the mild sarcasm. It wouldn't be a normal Hogwarts day without it. "Actually, he's in a foul mood and doesn't want to talk to anyone."
"So he's all right, then."
"Probably. I certainly hope so. But we need to check something first. Boggle's brewing a potion for diagnosis."
James, appreciably paler, said, "So it's possible he…?"
Harry, feeling vindictive despite James' help with the tree, replied, "Oh, definitely."
"And if…?" He tried to hold Harry's gaze, obviously wanting to know that Remus would get out of this unharmed. But it was impossible to do when Harry could barely bring himself to look James in the face, let alone meet his eyes.
Harry drew his finger across his throat. "Do you think they'll bother with Azkaban?"
James swallowed.
Rosier frowned, eyes narrowing in speculation. Harry didn't like to guess how much the Slytherin prefect had deduced. "I say – much as I'm enjoying this elliptical conversation, could we please get back to the matter in hand? Thank you. Now, Harry... When can I see Severus?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. But I know the trip to Hogsmeade will go soon, and if you could pick him up a box of chocolate frogs he'll probably appreciate it. I'll keep an eye on things until you get back. How's that?"
Rosier cocked his handsome head to the side and considered. "Acceptable," he allowed at last. "On your word? You'll stay with him and protect him from Potter and his thugs?" Apart from a faint lift to the corner of his mouth, he appeared not to hear James' strangled growl of protest.
"While I'm able to. I tried to stop him going out last night, but…" He bit his lip, annoyed for what he expected wouldn't be the last time over Dumbledore's restriction. "I'll do better this time. But I won't be here much longer. I don't know exactly when I'm leaving, but I expect it'll be some time today."
"Oh." Rosier looked displeased. As, oddly, did James. "Well, I hope to catch you again before you go. Try and get Severus down to Hogsmeade if he's able to – it'll do him a power of good to get out and an old friend of his is going to be meeting us there. I'll stand the both of you butterbeers if you make it. If not and I don't see you again, it's been a pleasure having you here." He held out his hand.
Harry shook it. "Thanks, Rosier. It's been good to get to know you. I'd ask to keep in touch, but my school's really strict."
"Well, after graduation, then. I'm sure we could do some project together, what?"
Harry made himself smile politely, realising what the project would be, and forcefully reminded where this handsome and intelligent young man was going. Into the grave, buried by a white mask and a black robe.
Imagine if this was Draco. Harry didn't want to imagine. He could only hope against it.
"Are you all right now?" Rosier asked, casting a meaningful glance at James, who stared back steadily.
"Nothing I can't deal with," Harry said, hoping it was true. "He's just leaving, anyway."
Rosier nodded, then dragged Harry away just out of earshot to whisper, "I say – I've noticed you can't look at him. Not and meet his eyes, that's all. Are you sure you want me to go? I can ask Wilkes to pick my up stuff in Hogsmeade…"
Damn, am I that obvious? "I'm fine. He's a creep, that's all."
Reluctantly, Rosier left, casting one last warning glare at James, who appeared to be oblivious to it. Harry turned to go back inside, then paused as James moved to follow.
"You're not coming near him," Harry said, turning but still not looking James in the face.
"I'm not here to see him. Remus is here."
"Oh. Well, I guess I can't stop you. Where're your sidekicks, by the way? You sure you can venture out without bodyguards?"
James' jaw tightened. "Up yours, Lovegood," he snapped, then ran his hand through his hair, making it look even messier. Harry, uncomfortably reminded that he did exactly the same thing, scowled. James visibly calmed himself. "I'm also here to make sure Snape isn't hurt."
"Why? So you can get ready to warn Remus to do a runner when it turns out Snape is hurt?"
James glared. "No. You think you're so smart, don't you. You can't believe I'd be here to make sure Snape is fine just because I want him to be well, can you?"
"Don't give me that pile of hippogriff crap. I know you better than that. In fact I know you so well I want to stick a wand to my head and Obliviate myself."
James' eyes narrowed and he tilted his head back, considering Harry. "Yes. And there's something really personal in there. Dumbledore said you were from a different dimension – and if so, are you connected to me? Because something about me is incredibly important to you. It's personal, this hate you've got for me."
Harry's grip on his wand was so tight his knuckles creaked. "Go and see to Remus," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Don't try coming near me or Severus again."
He stormed back into the Infirmary, not caring that the door slammed back so hard it nearly broke James' nose, and turned right towards the small room where Pomfrey had sequestered Severus. Thankfully James didn't follow.
Harry flopped down on the bed next to Severus, breathing hard.
"Well. You look happy."
"Potter."
"Oh. What did Rosier have to say?"
"Thought you didn't want to have anything to do with him?"
"Doesn't mean I don't want to know why he was sniffing around. First time he's tried to visit me in the Infirmary."
"Come here often, do you?"
"Was that meant to be a pickup line?"
Harry snorted, and didn't realise until later that Severus had deflected the question. "He said an old friend of yours is meeting up with him in Hogsmeade."
Frowning, Severus said slowly, "I don't have any friends, old or otherwise. Did he say who?"
"No. And I'm your friend."
"Then you'll stop lying to me and tell me the truth about yourself."
Harry sighed. "I'm not lying."
"And I'm not stupid, Lovegood. If that's your real name, of course."
That was it for conversation.
They lay staring up at the ceiling for a while longer. Harry, sick of the silence, said, "Boggle is meant to bring the potion in" – he looked at the clock, which said twelve minutes to nine – "in about ten minutes."
"I know."
"I… guess you do."
They waited in yet more silence until a small raven shot out of the clock and cawed nine times. They waited longer.
At twenty past the hour Harry was bored again. He heaved a sigh and rolled over onto his elbow. Severus still looked washed out and severely lacking in sunshine, but that was normal. "You look better, anyway."
"Thanks. I'll feel completely better when Boggle finally finishes that potion. Although as he's making it I'm not entirely sure it'll work."
There was a rustle of robes in the doorway and a cough from Dumbledore.
Boggle glared at Severus, who didn't bother to hide his own sneer. "Well, well. If it's not my favourite student. Bit of bother, ha?" he barked, glaring at Severus, who glowered back, completely unrepentant. The professor was holding a smoking goblet and a silver pin. "Still think you're smart enough to get away with the sort of tom-foolery you think is condoned at this school, eh? Well, well, well, well, well. Maybe this might be enough to make you think about the idiocy of your actions… although given your history I doubt it. But that's enough dithering, boy; let's find out if you can stay here or not. You're not the only student I have to deal with today, you know, only the most annoying."
"I think Mr Snape is deserving of more than a few hours of your attention per year," Dumbledore admonished mildly.
Glaring at his student, Boggle said with disdain, "I suppose you would feel more secure had you brewed it yourself?"
Severus met his glare coolly. "Well, sir, you know the old saying: if you want something done right, do it yourself."
Boggle snapped his mouth shut and smacked the goblet down on the bedside table. He swept out with his robes billowing behind him. Harry couldn't help thinking that in twenty years Snape would do it with more style.
Severus picked up the goblet, some of which had slopped over the rim onto the table and was now eating a hole in the varnish, sniffed it, and turned to Dumbledore. "I could have brewed it, you know," he said resentfully.
Dumbledore shook his head, blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles resigned as if he was fully aware of how argumentative Severus was. "Unfortunately victims are not allowed by law to brew their own diagnosis potions."
Severus frowned in disgust and opened his mouth – to protest rather than drink.
Dumbledore sighed. "Please drink it while it remains hot, Mr Snape."
Severus wasn't quite bold enough to glare at the headmaster – not quite – and he glowered into the goblet then squeezed his eyes shut and drained it to the dregs.
His face twisted as if he was having a fit. Or metamorphosing. "Ugh! Gah! Oh, shit!"
Harry jumped up, not sure if he should run to him or away. "Severus! Oh – hell, you're a werewolf?"
Dumbledore bent down and used a finger to lift one of Severus' eyelids. "The eyes are not red. There, it's quite all right, Harry… it would seem your friend is uninfected." He smiled at Harry.
"Then… why all the fuss?" Harry rounded on Severus, who was frantically wiping his tongue on the back of his hand.
"You try it! It tastes like Boggart found every mildewed, rotting, sub-standard, puke-inducing, vile, abominable, revolting…"
"I think I get the point." Dumbledore reached into his pocket. "No, I'm afraid I'm out of sherbet lemons. Care for a chocolate frog?"
Severus grabbed the chocolate frog and ripped the wrapper off. There wasn't time for the frog to twitch before its head was bitten off.
"There, now. Better?"
Severus, his mouth full of chocolate, nodded and mumbled, "Than' you, He'master."
Dumbledore lifted his hand as if to pat the boy on the head, then appeared to think better of it. Possibly because the frog's back legs were still weakly kicking as it was swiftly devoured.
"I don't suppose we need to do the silver test."
His mouth still full, Severus looked at the pin and sighed. He picked it up and jabbed it into the back of his hand.
Fortunately the chocolate muffled what he said. By the way he raised his eyes to the ceiling, Dumbledore knew what the words were, but chose not to make an issue out of it. "Any burning sensation?"
Severus shook his head, taking out the pin with relief. A bright red spot of blood welled, and was blotted by a tissue from the box on the beside table.
"So he's uninfected?"
Dumbledore smiled. "He's had a lucky escape, Mr Lovegood. As have you. Now, would you care to tell me what exactly went on last night?"
Harry glanced at Severus, who shrugged. "Tell him everything," Severus said. "How about starting with Black trying to murder me?"
"That's a serious accusation, Mr Snape."
Severus' face grew cold. "You taught us to consider murder as a serious issue. Are you going to make light of it because the accused is a Gryffindor?"
"Nothing of the sort, Mr Snape. Whatever you may think of me, I would never condone murder by any student, regardless of House. I… excuse me." He fished out a small fob watch from a pocket. When he opened it, one hand had spun around to point to the words: ward breach.
"Ah. Please excuse me. I see those Ravenclaw fifth-years have finally gone too far with their little vendetta against Mr Filch. I will return shortly. Please do not leave before we finish this talk, Mr Snape, Mr Lovegood."
As he left, Harry heard him speak softly to someone just outside the room. He hoped it wasn't James, out poking his nose into business that wasn't his. It was disturbing, though, to know that Remus was in the room just down the other end of the Infirmary. He wondered if he should go and visit, then decided that things were already rocky enough with Severus, who was looking at him strangely.
Harry, about to ask what was wrong, was distracted by a whisper at the door.
"James? Have you seem Remus?"
He turned to see a red-haired girl leaning around the doorframe. Her green eyes widened at the sight of him sitting on the bed next to Severus'. "Oh – hello, Snape. If James is bothering you I'll come and turn him into a pincushion again."
"Hello, Evans. No, he's not bothering me. In fact, I think you're a little mistaken over who he is. Come and have a look if you don't believe me."
He ignored Harry's death-glare, watching the girl as she slipped through the door, her slim figure even slimmer in the dark robes and her red hair flaring up copper as she passed through the sunbeam of the room's one window.
Harry caught his breath and looked away.
Not aware of his discomfort – or aware and not inclined to be in the least bit kind, hateful bastard that Snape had seemed to take such pleasure in being, Severus continued, "He looks like Potter, doesn't he? In fact this is Harry Lovegood. Have you been introduced?"
Lily smiled warily, obviously not trusting the Slytherin, as she came closer until she stood in front of Harry.
"Good lord," she breathed. "You look just like him. But… I've seen your eyes before…"
"So have I," Severus said softly, something dark and deep glittering in his own eyes. "Harry Lovegood, this is Lily Evans. Aren't you going to say hello?"
Harry muttered something, wondering if he was going to be sick.
"Harry? I always liked that name."
Any minute now she was going to turn into the ghastly creature who could have married James Potter.
Harry panicked and said the nastiest thing he could think of.
"Oh – you're that Mudblood the Slytherins mentioned."
Lily stepped back as if slapped. High points of colour tinted her cheeks; the only other colour in her face were her freckles and her eyes, green as sea-washed glass.
Those eyes narrowed as her nostrils flared.
"Might have known this was the sort of idiot you'd associate with, Snape," she snapped.
Seemingly uninsulted, Severus stroked one finger along his mouth. Harry didn't dare look at his face. Or Lily's. "It seems a little out of character." And then his voice went as soft and icy as Harry had ever heard it, now or in the future. "Aren't you going to apologise to your mother, Harry?"
ooOOoo