A/N: I had so much fun writing this chapter. If you like reading it even half as much as I like writing it, we're golden.

Also, that mess of a typo in my last A/N? That would be my kitten saying hi and me not noticing until it was published. Whoops.

Chapter Five

20

Harry was coughing again. Something hard was slowly working its way down his throat, and it was extraordinarily uncomfortable. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, trying to cough up whatever it was.

"Stop it," Snape said.

Hands were on the sides of Harry's head, forcing him back down. His coughing intensified, but the hands were very strong and he couldn't get up. A few moments later the hard thing passed into his stomach and he could breathe again.

Very uncomfortably, though. His lungs were aching and his throat was scraped from the hard thing, but at least he was breathing. He had vague memories of not being able to do that.

"Ughh?" Harry tried.

"Can you breathe?" Snape asked.

"Yeaughh," Harry replied. He took a few painful breaths and licked his lips. "Yeh." That was a little better.

"You swallowed the bezoar stone?"

That's what that was? "Yeuh." Harry coughed, and a hand brushed over his forehead. "Whuuh?" Harry frowned. His thoughts were clear, at least about what he wanted to say. Everything else was fuzzy, but he knew what he wanted to say. Why wasn't his mouth working? "Happed?"

"The potion was—" Snape hesitated. "—not a success."

Harry pushed himself onto his elbows again, and was pushed down again. He coughed some more. "Flowed." Bloody hell. Elder flowers. Flowers. Flowers. "Flow?"

"Harry—"

"Ngg!" Harry exclaimed. "Ngg, yeeld flowed."

"The elder flowers," Snape said. Properly. Harry resented that a lot. "They were—a mistake."

Why did he keep hesitating? What wasn't he saying? "Vayygh." Harry frowned again. He waved his hands in the air. At least they worked. "Yeeld flowed vayygh. An hess—heshiss—bleargh." Goddammit. Elder flower vapor. Hesitating. What was wrong with his tongue? "Tong."

"Harry, stop talking," Snape replied. "I don't know what happened, either to the potion or you, but I can't understand you."

Harry's heart started pounding. Snape never used contractions. Ever. This was not good. Which was obvious, he knew that, but it was really not good if Snape was using contractions. He waved his hands again. "Yeeld flowed vayygh!"

"I know the elder flowers were not standard," Snape said uncharacteristically quietly.

Harry slammed his hands down on the floor. "Vayygh!"

"Stop," Snape said firmly. "I need to ask you questions. Can you understand me?"

Harry focused very hard. "Yehgh." His teeth clenched. This was infuriating. And sort of terrifying. The bezoar stone should have cured him. He could breathe now, yes, but if he couldn't talk, that would have a drastically unpleasant effect on his life.

"Are your thoughts clear?"

"Yeeyh."

"Do you remember what happened?"

Something inside Harry snapped. "Vayygh! Blooghy yeeld flowed vayygh! I nee tssh rogg buth yee—"

"Shh," Snape interrupted, once again running a hand over his forehead. "You'll be okay. You do remember, then?"

Harry nodded furiously, on the verge of tears. "Vayygh. Payye yeel vayygh." He closed his eyes in frustration. "Yegsh."

"Can you sit?"

Harry would've liked to say something about how he would have known by now if Snape had let him try but until his mouth was working, it wasn't worth it. Instead he rose to his elbows again, and when that worked, fully sat up. "Yeaughh."

"Good."

Harry scooted around and finally looked at Snape. His expression was easily recognizable, if bizarre to see on Snape—guilt. Had he tried to poison him, then? But if so, then why try to save him? No, probably not poison. Maybe an experiment, though. That made some sort of sense, especially with all the hesitating. He was embarrassed to admit he'd messed up a potion.

The rest of what happened crashed down around him. Not the almost dying part, or not being able to talk, but Snape. He'd used Harry's first name again. He'd held his head. He'd stroked his forehead. Twice. Nothing hurt, so either Snape had healed him or—or maybe caught him? He'd taken a while to pass out, the grey had come on slowly, so maybe he'd had time to come over.

"Whuuh necksh?"

"You need to go to the hospital wing," Snape replied, though Harry thought the fact that he answered his question was coincidental. "I don't feel comfortable giving you anything until we know more."

"Buuhh thsh yigg pothshnin!" Harry protested. "Poaumfreeg dowshn—"

"Please stop," Snape said, wincing. "I can't—"

"—ungedstash meeg," Harry finished dully. "Buuhh coald yee thrigh—"

"Hmm," Snape said suddenly. "Perhaps… wait here a moment."

"Beckash ayem shthippid eenught tug fleefl nough," Harry replied through gritted teeth.

"Hush," Snape said absentmindedly. He tilted a book out of one of the many shelves, the bookcase shimmered away, and Snape disappeared through the opening. It solidified as soon as he was through, and Harry glared after him. He might not be able to speak, but that didn't mean he needed to be talked down to, or that he was completely useless.

Harry moved from the floor to the chair by the desk. He carefully scooted it away from the cauldron, not even looking at the contents lest something else happen. He crossed his arms, then readjusted so he was cupping his elbows. He kept flipping back and forth between annoyance and fear. What if Snape couldn't fix him? That wasn't terribly likely, Snape could fix most things, but what if this wasn't one of them? He couldn't cure Dumbledore of the curse from the Horcrux, he wasn't perfect. Then again, this was hardly a Horcrux. On the other hand, he had no idea what it was, so maybe…

Snape stepped out of the still-solid bookcase. "Before I take you to Madame Pomfrey, try this," he said, handing Harry a small vial of lilac liquid.

"Whuuh isght?" Harry asked, uncorking it and sniffing. It also smelled like peppermint, which made his stomach churn.

"It's an antidote to a spell I invented," Snape said. "It may help."

"Yeaughh nivengteth shish tough?" Harry asked nervously.

"Harry, please," Snape said, all but begging.

Harry downed the potion. A tingling shot through him and he shivered uncontrollably. It stopped, then immediately started again, radiating out from his stomach to the tips of his fingers and toes, only this time it didn't stop. The tingles continued to cycle through him and he was shivering uncontrollably. "Snaugh?" he asked shakily, all annoyance replaced with fear. "Whughs haggnepig?"

"Bloody hell," Snape muttered, resting a hand on his forehead for the third time, though the small part of Harry that was still rational thought he was probably checking for a fever. "You don't feel warm. We've got to go to the infirmary. Now."

Harry stood on shaky legs. He took a step and stumbled. Snape reached out with lightening speed and grabbed his arm, steadying him. "Thausksh," Harry said. He noticed that even while his entire body was shaking, the tingles from Snape's hand still felt different.

"Come on," Snape said, guiding him out of his office. "Be careful on the stairs. Don't talk, I'll explain what happened."

"Yeeg joush bamashed," Harry replied bitterly, trying to mask his fear with anger.

"Don't talk," Snape repeated, and Harry thought he was probably doing exactly the same thing. If he was capable of fear, which was a pretty big if.

21

The walk to the infirmary was long, difficult and terrifying. Not only was Harry become steadily more and more positive he'd spend the rest of his life like this, but Snape had been right and stairs were extraordinarily unsafe. There were a lot of stairs between the second floor and the infirmary.

Things didn't get better when they arrived. Harry was deposited on a cot and Snape swept Madame Pomfrey into her office, leaving him alone. Harry slipped under the blankets, needing the comfort more than the warmth. He stayed seated, gripping the edge of the blanket, trying to still at least his hands. It didn't work. Nothing worked. Shaky and incomprehensible for the rest of his life. That was exactly the happy ending he had been looking for.

After what seemed like ages, Snape and Madame Pomfrey emerged. She looked furious and he looked chagrined, which was another bizarre expression. Bizarre and scary, given the circumstances.

"Severus informed me of what happened," Madame Pomfrey said curtly. "Are you under the blankets because you're cold now, too?"

"Nugh," Harry replied.

"Good, I suppose." She took his wrist and dropped it in disgust a few moments later. "I can't even take your pulse. Do you think your heart is racing?"

"Owlly baskuse aimee schurged," Harry said testily.

"Yes or no," Madame Pomfrey replied.

"Ngugh."

"Fine. Good. Lie down and relax, you might be here for a while," she said.

Anger burst out again. "Raulesk?" he snapped. "Shaunpe hade meugh breshnig bouldly rexaled poinshunt, ayed—"

"That is not relaxing," Madame Pomfrey interrupted. "Or lying down."

Harry glared at her as he shuffled further under the blankets. He could be dying, stuck babbling forever, shivering nonstop, and he was being told to relax after getting into this state from brewing a calming draught. Did no one find that ironic? Ironic and miserable?

"Roun?" he asked. "Hearshimone?"

"Potter, stop—"

"I think he wants Weasley and Granger," Snape interrupted. "Harry?"

Harry sighed in relief. "Yeaughh."

"I will summon them," Snape said. "Poppy, will you—"

"Both of you, stop talking!" she said firmly. "There's a lot to do and your constant babbling won't get it done any faster! Potter, your friends are allowed only if they remain silent, do you understand?"

"Yughsh."

"Good. Severus, leave. Potter, prepare to be tested."

Harry didn't like the sound of that.

22

Ron and Hermione sat with him for hours. They stayed quiet while Madame Pomfrey tested him, which involved a lot of wand waving and muttered incantations and several uncomfortable pokes and prods. She left without saying anything one way or the other, and that didn't help Harry feel any better.

"What happened?" Hermione asked as soon as she was out of earshot. "Snape said there was a potions accident but not what, and I've been so worried, both of us, and nobody will tell us anything."

"Aigh canughth heeph," Harry replied. Ron's expression grew very strange, and it was easy enough to see that he was trying not to laugh. "Ith nouthaght fushneigh," Harry muttered.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed worriedly, taking his hand. "Ohh, you can't stop shaking either, can you?" He shook his head miserably. "We'll stay, don't worry. As long as you're here, we'll stay. We can bring you homework—oh, wait, no, you can't write. And you can't dictate either, oh, this isn't good."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Aigh nouth warghed aiboot hougwark."

"Harry's right, assuming he said he shouldn't have to deal with homework now," Ron replied, and Harry nodded emphatically. "Yeah, there are things more important than marks, 'Mione."

She glared at him. "I know that, I was just trying to be helpful. I thought it might be a good distraction."

"Homework is never a good distraction," Ron said. "It's never good, period. Leave Harry alone."

"I'm not going to leave him alone," Hermione replied angrily. "I'm going to sit with him, because that's what friends do, and I'm going to try to help. Harry knows I talk about homework when I'm worried—"

"Or any other time," Ron interrupted.

"—and that you get even more annoying than usual," she continued icily. "He still asked for us."

"Yim raight hersh," Harry muttered.

They turned back to him.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, looking ashamed. "Do you want me to stay? I promise I'll stop talking about homework."

Harry smiled slightly. "Yegsh."

She squeezed his hand. "We'll get through this. You'll be fine."

"And if not, you can work for George in the joke shop," Ron offered. "You'll fit right in."

Hermione smacked his arm, but Harry laughed. That was the only thing that cheered him up all night. Well, except maybe for how caring and—was sweet the word?—Snape had been. That had been good. But this was less pathetic and more practically helpful, plus it didn't come from the person who landed him in the infirmary in the first place.

"I brought you a quill and parchment," Hermione said, pulling them out of her bag. "I know your writing will be shaky, but it'd be worth it if you could communicate. The quill is self-inking, I didn't think Madame Pomfrey would like an inkwell."

Harry could have kissed her. "Yarg brislignat," he said, taking the writing materials.

It immediately became apparent it wasn't going to help. He could hardly hold the quill, let alone form letters. He filled half the parchment with incomprehensible squiggles and inkblots before getting too frustrated to continue. He balled the parchment and threw it across the room along with the quill.

"Houpleese," Harry groaned. "Ig neaveer beay blable toag eeb nudsteade aigeen."

"It's not hopeless," Hermione said soothingly. "You did say it was hopeless, right? Though even if you didn't, it still isn't."

"You're talking very quickly," Ron told her. "Seems kind of insensitive, given Harry's condition."

Harry smiled slightly, more at Hermione's expression than Ron's words. She was simultaneously upset at Ron telling her what to do again and feeling guilty about what he said.

Madame Pomfrey came over with a small glass filled with a viscous orange liquid. "Drink this," she said, starting to hand it to Harry and then pulling back at the sight of his shivering hands. "Hold still as best you can," she amended. "And open your mouth."

Feeling entirely humiliated, Harry tipped his head back and opened his mouth. She poured the potion down his throat, and he immediately started coughing. His throat was already raw and sore from so much coughing earlier, and he was relatively sure it caught fire this time.

"Breathe, Potter," Madame Pomfrey said.

"Mig threegin," he coughed. "Shlith nacth lact."

She pursed her lips. "Clearly not helpful," she replied. "And stop talking."

"Do you think talking might make it worse?" Hermione asked nervously.

"I don't know what might make it worse," Madame Pomfrey snapped. "Everyone at this school thinks they're so clever. Professors testing potions on students, threatening a poisoning if I told the headmistress. What does he think is going to happen when you don't show up at breakfast tomorrow, hmm?"

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Snape tested potions on you?"

"Uhh vargninant," Harry replied.

"Stop talking!" Madame Pomfrey said firmly. "I'm not at liberty to discuss such things. Wipe that look off your face, Granger. Minerva has already been informed, regardless of any threats. Professors don't scare me, no matter how intimidating they like to think they are. Another half hour, and then you need to go so Potter can get some sleep."

"Swible ayme shnalkeen licken thrisle?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Stop talking."

As promised, Madame Pomfrey kicked Ron and Hermione out a half hour later. Harry tried to tell her again that he couldn't sleep while he was shaking so hard, but it fell on deaf, confused and firm ears. She extinguished the lights in the infirmary and left, once again telling him to stop talking.

It took a very long time for Harry to fall asleep. The shaking combined with the fear was enough to keep him up for days, and eventually he had to close his eyes and will himself out of the infirmary. He wasn't stuck in the hospital wing with a potentially incurable accidental poisoning, he was just cold because the castle was drafty. He wasn't thinking about talking, he was thinking about white cuffs. Simultaneously excruciatingly inappropriate tonight of all nights and the only thing that was distracting enough to let him fall asleep.

So, like so many other nights, Harry fell asleep thinking about white cuffs.

23

When Harry woke up it took him a minute to remember where he was and why he was in the infirmary. Then he registered the shaking and it all came rushing back. He groaned, pulling the blanket over his head.

"Awake, then?"

Harry jerked in surprise, rolling over and pushing the blanket down. Snape was sitting in a chair next to him, looking an awful lot like he was calmly reading. The worry and embarrassment and guilt were barely visible at all.

"Whash ree doughig sheere?" Harry said. Before Snape could answer, Harry started crying. Thankfully not full on sobs, but still obviously crying. He supposed it had been coming, but waking up the next day still talking nonsense was too much. Harry buried his face in his pillow, refusing to look at the man who caused his tears.

"Harry, I—"

"Out," Madame Pomfrey said quite suddenly. "I didn't want to let you in at all, and this is too much. Leave."

It was pathetic that Harry knew the sound of Snape's robes swishing so well. Even if the entire hospital wing had been full, he would have been able to pick out the sound of him leaving.

"No better, then?" she asked.

"Nugh."

"I have a few ideas, don't worry," she said. "You'll be running your mouth again in no time."

"Ughkee," Harry sniffled.

"Stop talking," Madame Pomfrey said. "I'll be back soon."

Harry lay on his back, stared at the ceiling and shook. All he could think about was Snape. Usually he had at least something else going on, but not now. Everything was mixed up in reasonable hatred and stupid love and all he wanted was for things to be easy and simple and that was never, ever going to happen. Not with Snape, and probably not with anything, because he was Harry Potter and the universe had decided he didn't get easy and simple.

"Potter."

Speak of the devil. Harry turned to glare at Malfoy, who was standing at the foot of his bed. He kept his mouth shut; the last thing he needed was for Draco Malfoy to hear him like this.

"The whole school knows what happened," he said. "Well, sort of. The general consensus is that Severus poisoned you. I don't suppose I could convince you to tell them otherwise?"

Harry intensified his glare. He couldn't tell anyone anything, let alone speak up on behalf of Snape.

Which, because he was stupid and pathetic, he probably would have done.

"Right, you can't talk," Malfoy said. "When you're better, then. It took ages to get him to tell me what actually happened. I had to bother him all through breakfast and then follow him around until he gave up. He didn't mean it, you know. He was sure that it was safe. Apparently there have never been any known side effects of elder flowers. He thought it would create a more powerful Calming Draught, not—whatever it did to you."

Harry was very interested as to why Malfoy had a need to continually remind him that Snape wasn't evil or bad or whatever he was trying to get across, but it wasn't like he could ask.

"Did he visit you?" Malfoy asked. "I told him to."

Harry nodded the tiniest bit.

"What did he say?" Malfoy huffed in frustration. "Never mind, you can't talk. It's really hard to remember, you know. Normally you won't shut up, it's hard to get used to the change." He smirked, and Harry realized this was the first time he'd seen Malfoy's trademark smirk this year. "It's rather pleasant. Anyway, don't blame Severus. He really didn't know."

Harry waved his hands in what was not exactly an understandable gesture, mostly because he didn't know what he was trying to say.

"Flap all you want, I have no idea what you're trying to say," Malfoy replied. "Don't tell Severus I was here, okay? He's less than thrilled with what he's convinced is meddling, and he's been difficult enough lately without being actively mad at me."

Harry had several questions. Why was Snape being extra difficult lately? Why was Malfoy meddling? What was Malfoy trying to accomplish? What was Snape trying to accomplish?

Malfoy didn't elaborate, but he also didn't leave. Instead he stood at the end of Harry's bed, arms crossed, worrying his lower lip.

"Anyway," he said eventually. "Good luck with—ah—not dying, I suppose."

Then he left, and Harry went back to staring at the ceiling. At least now he had something productive to think about, assuming he could call overanalyzing and dissecting Malfoy's every word productive. Harry decided he could; he certainly had in the past, and even if he wasn't trying to save the world this time, figuring out what was going on with Snape was noble enough.

Or horrifically selfish and pathetic, one or the other.

24

Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed before his stomach started growling. He had missed breakfast, and when he craned his neck to see the clock at the other end of the infirmary he saw that it was nearly noon. For the first time he wondered when he'd woken up this morning.

"Moadgam Poufee?" Harry called. He closed his eyes, wondering if this was what hell was like.

She appeared at his side a moment later. "I told you not to talk," she said firmly.

He looked beseechingly at her. "Lounsh?" he asked. "Aigh hougee."

She frowned. "Lunch?" Harry nodded in relief. "I'll have something sent up." She eyed his still shaking hands and chattering teeth. "Something easy. Maybe a plate of sandwiches."

"Thaucks." He was close to tears again and had to turn away. He'd forgotten about his shaking.

"I do have some good news for you," Madame Pomfrey said, and he turned back to her. "Minerva has cancelled the rest of your detentions and returned half the points Severus took to Gryffindor."

Of course she had no way of knowing that only made Harry feel worse. The points bit, that was good, but detention was the only time he had with Snape, and he thought things might finally have been sort of starting to move in a vaguely positive direction, maybe. He forced a smile. "Geert."

"Stop talking," she repeated. "I'll have something for you to take with your meal. Now be quiet and rest."

Harry was getting rather sick of people telling him that. What else was he supposed to do, really? Go wandering around the castle on legs that couldn't support him, spouting nonsense? He settled back into his cot, this time rolling over onto his side and staring at the far wall.

It wasn't much more interesting than the ceiling.

A few minutes later Ron and Hermione came in carrying a tray loaded with macaroni and cheese, and a large travel mug filled with pumpkin juice.

"I know it's kind of a kid's meal," Hermione said, setting the tray down on the bedside table. "But we figured you can't choke on pasta, and the travel cup will help you from spilling."

"Thaucks," Harry said, leaning over the plate and fighting with his hand and the spoon and the noodles. "Meeg shtroved."

"I've got questions," Ron announced. "I know you can't give proper answers, but will yes or no work?" Harry nodded. "Malfoy and Snape were talking about you at breakfast. Rather, Malfoy was, and Snape ignored him, but my point is that I couldn't hear what he was saying. Any idea?"

Harry nodded again. He set his spoon down, sending it clattering to the floor. Hermione picked it up and spelled it clean. "Maglough heerg," Harry said, pointing at his bed.

Ron frowned in confusion. "Malfoy was here?" Harry nodded again. "What'd he say to you?" Harry glared at him. "Right. Uh, was he at least nice to you?"

Harry thought back to their conversation. "Yegsh," he said, confused himself now that he thought about it.

"Did he mention Snape?" Hermione asked.

"Mmhug," Harry replied. "Auh, yegsh."

"What'd he say about him?" Ron asked, then let out a surprised yelp as Hermione hit him. "I'm sorry! I'm used to you being able to talk!"

Harry laughed. "Shagt's wheigth Magflow sheed."

"Was Snape here?" Hermione asked, taking over. "Did he apologize?"

"Yeeyh," Harry said. "Nugh."

Her eyes blazed. "He was here and he didn't bother to apologize?"

"I kicked him out," Madame Pomfrey said, appearing by Harry's bed. "He was upsetting the infirm. Potter, drink this."

This flask had a lid as well, and Harry managed to drink the liquid without spilling any. All three were looking at him expectantly, and he had no idea what to attempt to say. "Um," he tried, and was elated that the word came out right, however small it was. "Eim tring tak?" he said.

"Harry, that's loads better!" Hermione exclaimed. "You said you're trying to talk, right?"

"Granger, hush," Madame Pomfrey said, waving her hand. "Potter, can you say your name?"

Harry concentrated. "Heery Pooter." He flushed, burying his face in his hands. While this might be encouraging, he sounded like a drunken Swede.

"Good," Madame Pomfrey replied, sounding like she meant it, and that was definitely a good sign. "Keep talking."

"Uh, Meelfloy seed Snepe thout thee pushun wes deefineetly seef," Harry said. Ron was slowly turning red, presumably from trying not to laugh. Even Harry had to admit he sounded a little silly, as humiliating as it was. "Eelder floores hefe no knoon sede iffeects." Now Hermione was also biting back a smile, and Harry forged ahead. "I theenk hee wes inspeered bee hees oold bouk und weented to tree sometheeng noo."

Ron burst into laughter, and Hermione started giggling. Harry was sporting a ridiculous smile; as long as he wasn't saying his own name, this was definitely an improvement.

"Teenagers," Madame Pomfrey muttered under her breath. "How's the shaking?"

Harry held up a hand. He was still tingling, but the trembling had dulled to small shivers. "Beeter."

"Good," she replied. "Finish your lunch, I'll be back to check on you when you're done eating."

Harry moved the bowl of macaroni onto his lap and started eating properly. Yes, it was messier than he usually was, but at least he wasn't sending bits of noodle flying around the room anymore.

"So what did Malfoy say?" Ron asked, getting himself under control. "And Snape?"

"Snepe leeft beffure he coold seey unytheeng," Harry replied. "Und Melffuy epulugeezed oon Snepe's beheelf."

"I hope you told him that Snape needs to apologize himself," Hermione huffed.

"I deedn't teel heem unytheeng becoose I wes incumprehenseeble," Harry said. "Snepe wes heer whee I wuke oop, thuoogh. I theenk he wes seeting weet me." He suddenly had a revelation and nearly spilled his pumpkin juice. "Deed I teel yoo I teeld heem I set weet heem oveer the soumeer? Mebee he wes repeyeeng thee fefur. Wuoold thet be guud oor beed? I gooes it wuooldn't be unything. He prubebly joost felt oobleegeted."

"Wait, Harry, slow down," Hermione said, eyes growing wide. "Did you just say you visited Snape over the summer?"

Harry froze. He forgot Ron and Hermione didn't know about that. "Um. Yes."

Ron was staring at him like he'd gone crazy. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Becoose oof thet luk!" Harry accused. "Yoo wuooldn't undeerstund. Eef I hedn't guttee droonk thet neeght, yoo wuooldn't knoo uny oof these."

"Harry," Hermione groaned. "Oh, Harry, Merlin. You told Snape?"

"He seed it meent nutheeng," Harry replied. "Boot he deed seet veet me, et leest fuur a beet. Ife gut nu idee hoo lung, beet steel."

"Maybe he just felt guilty," Ron suggested. Harry glared at him. "Or, I mean, maybe he cares about you? Is that right?"

"No, stop," Hermione said firmly. "Please, both of you. Harry, don't get your hopes up. Please."

"He ceeled me Heery, a lut. He heeld me, surt oof," Harry countered. Feeling suddenly triumphant, he pointed at Hermione to emphasize his point. "He tuooched my fureheed! Repeetedly! He wes celmeeng me doon! Und dun't teel me it's joost becoose he's a pruffessur, becoose pruffessurs dun't struke my bluudy fureheed!"

Ron started laughing again. "I'm sorry, you just sound so ridiculous when you yell like that."

Hermione frowned again. "He stroked your forehead?"

"Yes," Harry said confidently.

"Hmm."

"Hmm indeed," Harry repeated in English. Real, actual English. He was very proud of himself, even if it was only one word.

"That is strange," Hermione admitted. "But really, don't get your hopes up." Her expression went back to fury. "No matter how nice he was to you, he still deserves to be punished. Professor McGonagall didn't say anything about it, but he better be severely—"

"He is," Harry interrupted, and that was also English. "I'm oot ooff thee rest ooff my detenshoons, und she gefe Gryffeendur helff thee pueents beck thet he tuuk. I dun't knoo whet ilse, boot theer's theet." Okay, maybe not so much. But still, he thought he was making progress.

"That's helping you, not punishing him," Hermione said angrily.

"I'll be soore tu esk ebuoot hees persunel leeffe, isepceelly theengs thet'll hoomeeliete heem," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

"Guys," Ron said quietly.

"You should!" Hermione exclaimed. "What Snape did was entirely inexcusable! He owes you an explanation!"

"'Mione…"

"Nut ebuoot whet McGunegell is dueeng tu heem!" Harry replied, talking over Ron. "He gefe me un ixpluneshun ebuoot thee pushun, thet's inuoogh."

"He's humiliated you enough by now," Hermione said. "You deserve a crack at him."

"Guys, really, shut up," Ron said quietly.

"Thet wes my ded, nut me," Harry snapped.

"Potter, there is no need for you to defend yourself," a familiar voice cut in. "Granger is right, as loathe as I am to admit it."

Harry and Hermione whirled around to see Snape standing a few feet away from the end of Harry's bed. Ron was looking at his knees, bright red. Hermione was clearly battling with herself, torn between respecting professors and defending Harry. Harry was just embarrassed.

"Pruffessur, I—"

Snape held up his hand. "May I have a moment alone with Potter?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.

"We'll be just outside," Hermione said. "Give us a call if…" She trailed off, unable to voice her concerns in front of her professor.

"I weell," Harry replied. "Boot it'll be feene. Dun't wurry."

His friends left, and Snape sat beside his bed, where he'd been when Harry had woken up. He didn't say anything, and Harry decided if anything was going to be said, he needed to start.

"Melffuy wes here. He told me yuoo deedn't meun tu pueesun me," Harry said. "It wes yuoor oold book, reeght? Yuoo wunted tu infent egeen?"

"You sound improved," Snape replied, sidestepping the question entirely. "A natural healing progression, or did Madame Pomfrey give you something?"

"She gefe me a pushun," Harry replied. "If yuoo were testeeng oot a noo theeury, thet's—it's, well—" He searched for a word that wouldn't sound too pathetic. "I'm soorpreesed yuoo troost me tu broo it. Thunk yuu."

"Your shaking has subsided as well," Snape continued. "I imagine you'll make a full recovery."

Harry glared at him. "Ere yuoo leestening et ell? Geffen whet happened, I theenk yuoo oove me a reel cunferseshun."

Snape sighed, pinching the brow of his nose. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Wes it thee book?"

"Yes."

"Melffuy stupped by. He seed ilder floores ere seffe, und yuoo hed nu wey ooff knooeeng they'd interect bedly."

Snape winced. "Meddling brat," he said under his breath. "But he's right."

"Und yuoo troosted me tu broo a noo pushun?"

Snape's lips thinned. "You are not entirely incompetent," he said begrudgingly. "I thought you could manage a simple Calming Draught."

"Thuooght?" Harry demanded. "I fulloowed yuoor durecshuns perfectly! I knoo ilder flooers deedn't belung, boot yuoo told me tu fulloo them ixectly!"

"Tell me what happened," Snape said, once again ignoring the issue. "I couldn't understand you last night, and it might help find a cure."

"The flooers gefe ooff a yelloo vepur thet mede it herd tu theenk," Harry replied. "It gut a lut wurse reelly fest when I edded thee peppermeent. I cuooldn't breethe. Und theen I wuke up oon the fluur, chukeeng on the bezuer."

Snape's eyebrows shot up. "A vapor?" he echoed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I deed!" Harry exclaimed. "Repeetedly!"

Snape took out his wand, and Harry was getting really sick of him constantly ignoring him. He rested the tip on Harry's throat and said, "Nox Vapos."

Harry stopped shivering. The tingles went away. His tongue felt very strange for a moment before going back to normal. "What was that?" Harry asked. His eyes widened and he clapped his hands over his mouth. "I can talk! What did you do?"

"A simple reversing spell," Snape replied. "How do you feel now?"

"Fine," Harry said, hands dropping. "Completely fine."

Madame Pomfrey appeared out of nowhere. "What did you do?" she demanded. "You're not supposed to be in here at all, let alone performing spells!"

"But he cured me!" Harry said vehemently. "You should be thanking him!"

Both Madame Pomfrey and Snape stared at him.

"You should not be defending him," she said sternly. "And Severus, I'm passing this along to the headmistress as well."

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "He cured me! Leave him alone!"

Again, stares and silence.

"Potter, it's not necessary—"

Harry knew he was close to the line of what was considered normal, had already probably crossed it, but, well, it was Snape, and he couldn't help it. He'd brushed Harry's forehead. Repeatedly. And now Harry didn't sound like a crazy old Swede who'd lost his dentures. "Please, it's fine," he said. "I'm not upset anymore. And I'm out of detention, that's good enough for me."

Madame Pomfrey shook her head in confusion. "You can leave when you finish your lunch," she said. "Come back immediately if your symptoms return."

"I will."

She walked away, still shaking her head.

Harry turned back to Snape, trying to keep from blushing or betraying any sort of anything. "Did you get into a lot of trouble?" Harry asked. "I can talk to McGonagall if you'd like."

Snape looked at him like he'd gone crazy. "I do not need you arguing on my behalf," he replied. "Nor do I understand why you're so eager to do such a thing. Or anything you've done lately, for that matter; from the essay to the confrontations to staring at my hand—cuff, excuse me."

Harry's eyes drifted down to said cuff under the guise of no longer making eye contact. "Are you asking for an explanation?" he asked.

"No," Snape replied. "I am just stating my confusion."

"Er, right," Harry said. He had a few bites of lunch. "So no more detention."

"I would think you would be happy," Snape said. "You sound dejected."

Bloody hell, he had macaroni in his mouth. How could Snape possibly understand his tone of voice? "No, it's good. I was, er, being nice."

"By pretending to be upset about being excused from detention?" Snape asked.

Merlin. This was not going well. "Malfoy, um, he—he said things," Harry muttered, trailing off.

Snape's eyes blazed, and Harry had to look away again. He found himself looking at Snape's cuff again. "What, exactly, did he say?"

"Just that it's not your fault," Harry replied. "I should tell people you didn't poison me. Um, to be nice to you, again."

Snape visibly relaxed, and that was very interesting. Clearly he was relieved that Malfoy hadn't let something slip, and Harry would really like to know what that something was. "I will have a word with him," Snape said dryly. "Yet again. His sudden change in behavior is entirely inappropriate."

"More confusing than inappropriate," Harry mused, toeing that line again. "Any idea why the sudden change?"

Snape stood up. "Finish your lunch," he said. "I do not wish to be the cause of your confinement to the infirmary."

"Wait," Harry said quickly. "You were here when I woke up. How long had you been waiting?"

"No doubt less time than you spent by my bed," Snape replied and left, robes swishing around him.

As soon as he was gone Ron and Hermione hurried in, Ron rolling up what looked suspiciously like an Extendable Ear.

"What was that about?" Ron asked.

"I take back everything I said," Hermione added. "You were right, Harry. He is acting strangely. Not enough to think he returns your feelings, but definitely strangely enough to consider his motives."

"And I thought I was the suspicious one," Harry replied. "I never said he liked me, for the record. All I said is that he's been strange. So has Malfoy. But I don't think they're doing anything sinister, and I'm pretty sure if I don't think that, it's not happening. It's probably Snape refusing to admit he has any feelings whatsoever. Not romantic feelings, any feelings other than hatred. He tolerates me, maybe, that's all."

"And trusts you enough to brew experimental potions," Ron added.

"Harry, I'm very proud of you," Hermione said, ignoring Ron's comments. "You're thinking realistically."

"Well I think it's obvious he cares about me a little bit," Harry replied.

"I'm comfortable with that," Hermione said. "I don't think you should push it, though."

"On the other hand, you could always get him to accidentally poison you again," Ron suggested. "That seemed to work in your favor."

"I'm done with detention," Harry reminded him. "I'm never going to see him outside of class again."

"And even if you did, you wouldn't let him poison you!" Hermione exclaimed. "Really, Harry!"

"That, too," Harry replied with a smile. "Let me finish my lunch so I can get out of here."