Title:
A few days more

Sequel to:
Twenty-one days

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 4th 2010

Timeframe:
Fourth year at Hogwarts

Summary:
"A few days more" is the sequel to "Twenty-one days" – read and review this first or you wouldn't understand all that happens in this story.
The fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindor have survived their imprisonment in the potions classroom situated in the dungeons. How will they go on in all-day life after their survival? How will they manage to reintegrate into the castle's routine and their classes? How will they be able to go back to life at all? Watch how those who survived fight for their lives and for their peace.

Disclaimer:
Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?
Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?
Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …
But Hereweald Hrothgar does …

Rating:
M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

Author's Notes:
Uhm … alright … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the – perhaps – sad language, nor for the subject of my writing …
Also, this is a story written for NaNo, a story written within thirty days only and even though I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories of mine you are used to by now … thank you …

Warning:
Story contains bad language and swearing.
Don't ever use such, it's neither good manners nor proper use of language and never mind how 'cool' it might sound, it surely isn't a sign of intelligence. It won't get you anywhere and people will think less of you if you are unable articulating properly.
Story contains references to child neglect.
Child neglect is a really, really serious thing, and there are a lot of children in our world that are neglected, children that lack food, clothing, often love, and perhaps even a roof over their head – and closing our eyes, and pretending it does not exist – is no solution …
Story contains references to child abuse.
Child abuse is one of the most evil things, and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help but have to live without hope – and again, closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution … instead show sympathy, and understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once having been abused … with understanding and with help …
What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Previously in A few days more
"I will work hard, I promise." The child suddenly said determinedly. "I will be a good son, I promise."
"You already are a good son, Harry." Severus assured him, getting off his chair and kneeling in front of the child, his heart clenching at his son's desperate words. "There is no need to change anything, child."
"But I'm still far too weak." Harry said.
"You are not weak! You, in fact, are much further along than others in your position would be." Snape answered. Harry looked up at Severus, and for a moment the child looked as if a heavy burden had been lifted from Harry's chest. "And I am proud of you, because in truth, you are so much taller than many others, child. And now let's get you outside for an hour." He then said, leading the students out of the room behind the hospital wing they were occupying and through a double winged glass door that led them out, directly on a veranda and the adjoining gardens that were secured from the prying eyes of the student body.

A few days more
Chapter four
Day four – twenty-sixth of September – Thursday
A fever, basilisks and other deathly creatures

"Stand again, please, cover your left eye now, and read the top line." The Potions Master said, and with a tired sigh he stood and did what his father had asked of him. Why did the man have to know so much about medical things? Why could the man not just let him sleep? It was annoying that every morning he came up with something else he could check or test or whatever, every bloody morning!

But well, he did, and so Harry stood up and covered his left eye, taking a step back when Severus motioned for him to stand a bit further away. He squinted his right eye, trying to focus on the awfully blurry shape. It wasn't too difficult to make out that it was an 'E', but it amazed him just how blurry that 'E' was.

"It's an 'E'." He said, trying to not sound as if it were a question. "An 'O' and an 'A' – I think."

Severus nodded, timing just how long it took Harry to answer him and judging the boy's strained stance, his head slightly turned to the left while at the same time he cast a spell at the boy's eyes, having noticed Harry squinting his eye, and he frowned.

"The third line, then." He said, trying to sound as emotionless as possible, while he didn't really like that the boy was barely sure concerning the first line. His left eye was already bad, but he had, at least, been sure for the first two lines.

He had tried to keep all the examinations that were to do with all of the children as easy, and as stress-free for them as possible, and each morning he tested one thing or another, trying to have just one test with each particular child, so that they were free to enjoy the remainder of the day.

Early yesterday morning he had tested Blaise's kidneys – after the child had made fun of his habit to use the bathroom so often, and during the most inconvenient times possible – potions, just for example – and he had indeed found them not working to his satisfaction, had found a long-term weakness there that he was sure was caused by an infect years ago, an infect that had not been taken care of.

After that he'd taken Theodore aside to have a test on his muscle mass, and then Harry, while the day before he'd taken them aside to have a test on their organs and well. And except of the nutrient potions and the muscle relaxing potions, he'd started restorative potions with both of them, as well as with Draco, Parvati and Tracy.

Harry squinted even more. Now this was a bit challenging. He could see that the line above it had at least a very blurry 'P' – or a very blurry 'F', he wasn't sure about that – but he was having great difficulty figuring out the other two letters, let alone any of the letters on line three. He struggled to focus his eyes, squinting so much his eye was practically closed. He sighed heavily and dropped his hand from his left eye.

"I can't read it at all, sir." He said, feeling slightly disappointed in himself. "'m sorry, sir."

Though he'd had to wear glasses for the majority of his life, and though his right eye definitely had been better, he felt worse now for needing them, as if he was imperfect, and that was unacceptable. He was sure that his dad expected more of him than being so imperfect, and so – so damn weak, and damaged and ... and whatever.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of such frustrating thoughts, knowing that they would get him nowhere. They were over this already, they all had their depressing and frustrating thoughts, and they all knew that they got nowhere with them, and tried to pull themselves out of them, sometimes pulling each other out of those thoughts, they had learned doing so during the past twenty-one days.

Severus nodded and motioned for Harry to sit back down. He had all the information he needed anyway, having cast a diagnostic while the boy had tried to decipher any of the letters in the second and third line, and he was actually startled about how bad his eyesight was.

"There is no need to apologize for things that you have no control over, child." He then said, trying to not sound sad at Harry apologizing for such a thing. "Your eyesight however is miserable, Harry, and I wonder how you have managed walking around, playing Quidditch and doing your schoolwork with the incorrect prescription for such a miserable vision! No wonder you always add the incorrect amounts of ingredients in potions, you are unable to see the bloody measuring cups!"

The boy glared at him for a moment before he sighed and then looked defeated.

"I was fine. I wasn't walking into walls, was I?" Harry then said and he, Snape, shook his head.

"And you think that makes it alright?" He then asked while he sat down at the table in their room and took the boy's glasses. "The little fact that you have not run into walls? Don't you think that there is more to comfortably moving than – not running into walls? I highly doubt that you have recognized all your surroundings even the way you should have, and the only reason you have not run into walls, was, that you have gotten used to – somehow halfway sense your surroundings. I will get an appointment with an oculist as soon as possible as I do hope that we can get them a little bit better than they are right now and I am sure that they wouldn't be so bad had your relatives taken you to an eye specialist years ago."

Pulling out his wand he tapped it at the boy's glasses and murmuring the needed spells to change the lenses into what he needed – and wanted.

"These are special lenses now, Harry." He then said while handing the boy the glasses. "They are unbreakable, impenetrable to any sort of hex or curse and they will change to be whatever prescription your eyes grow to need.

Harry took the glasses that were being handed to him with wide eyes, as if he had never owned anything so special that had been given to him and the hesitation, as if the boy asked for his permission to actually put them on his nose, it was enough proof of just that.

"Thank you, Professor." The boy whispered when he finally slid the glasses on his nose and looked around – and he himself couldn't help but watching the child without any reprimands upon the child ridiculously looking around, looking at anything he could look at, at his hands even, at one of the books that were laying on the table, at the texture of the table even, the child clearly being amazed at all he could see so suddenly and so clearly.

He however had to ignore the 'professor' deliberately, knowing why the child had used that term of addressing him, namely because he was so damn unsure again.

"You are quite welcome, child." He answered softly, his next words difficult for him to say. "As much as you seem to enjoy your new ability however, you will have to get your eyes used to the new glasses slowly or you will get headaches. I suggest that you take them off for an hour after wearing them for an hour for now."

"'k." The boy obediently said and not for the first time he wondered if the child would have obeyed him years ago as much as he did right now if only he had tried earlier.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He had taken them into the gardens half an hour ago, like he did every day now, in fact, they only were inside for sleeping, for eating and for any medical examinations or treatments – and when he decided that it got too cold for them. Even their exercises they did outside, as small as those exercises were, and even Gregory had survived them so far.

He had them just walking through the infirmary gardens that were closed off from the regular gardens where the students could visit, had them walking along the garden paths, had them laying in the grass and doing stretching exercises or massaging their little muscles. He'd had the Weasley twins visiting them twice now, and he had asked his house elf to bring over Marcus for a visit, Montague and Warrington, too, so that not only some of the outside students knew that they were alive and free by now, but so that his fourth year students also learned to interact with some of the other students again.

He also had one or another child – aside from Adrian – pulled from classes and their dormitories to have them integrated into their little group here upon them having had troubles with eating and sleeping during the past few weeks while they had been missing, the children being in need of their head of house that not had been there.

And tomorrow the heads of houses – except of him – would get the parents and bring them to the infirmary.

Albus was already preparing the large chamber that was situated directly below the infirmary hall, furnishing it with large tables and cozy armchairs and sofas, so that they had a comfortable place that was large enough so the children might not feel trapped or locked up, where they would be able to sit down or to walk a few steps if they so needed – or to even take a step back from their parents if necessary as he was sure that one or another of the parents would surely smother them upon the first sight.

It would be a difficult meeting and he knew it, what was the reason as to why he had suggested to Albus that they keep their being alive secret until they were prepared – and why he had prepared the children for just that moment, for being crushed to death by their parents.

"Are you warm enough, Harry?" He softly asked upon noticing the boy shivering in the fresh air.

He watched the boy nodding while he leaned back, running his arms around his chest and it was clear that – Harry definitely was not warm enough but was either too stubborn or too carless to admit it, most likely even thinking that it was a small thing to freeze, and with a sigh he got off his chair and took one of the blankets he had stored outside for the children, ignoring the startled and clearly not understanding look that crossed the child's pale face when he covered him with the blanket. It was clear that, even now, while they were free, and after nearly four weeks of living together, the boy was not used to anyone caring for him, and again he was reminded of the little fact that with Harry, he had not only to deal with the aftermath of those 21 days, but with the aftermath of the abuse he had lived through for years, too.

He sat back down into his own chair, watching the child that seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, looking up towards the sky and clearly enjoying not only the fresh late summer air, but clearly enjoying his new ability to see the white fluffy clouds, too.

"Harry?" He softly asked, not really wanting to get the child from the bliss of just sitting in the fresh air and watching the clouds instead of the grey and stony walls of the dungeons classroom.

"Hmm?" The boy made, asked, without looking down from the sky.

"Take off your glasses for a while, Harry." He said, "It has been more than an hour now since you wear them."

"'k." The boy again made, obediently, even with a sigh, and again he wondered if perhaps he would have been just as obedient a few years ago if he, Snape, had met him with just some understanding and tolerance back then.

"That cloud looks like a Thestral, if you just squint your eyes right." The boy said, most likely sensing that he wanted to have his attention for a moment, most likely fearing that he wanted to talk with him about something while he didn't want to talk, and he knew the reason. They had started talking about not only their experiences in the dungeons classroom, but about what it meant for each of them, including the abuse some of them had gone through as one came together with the other, and they had to acknowledge it. While at the same time he wondered – how was it, that this child could see the Thestrals, whose death had he seen, consciously seen?

It couldn't be his parents' death, because first – James had not even been near Harry's nursery but downstairs and Lily had not been in the child's line of view when she'd died either, having shielded the door of the child's room from the outside, trying to quickly erect wards, and Harry had been in his crib, according to Hagrid who had taken the child from Godric Hollow. And second – the child had been too young to understand what he had seen anyway back then, even if he might know what it meant now, he hadn't known the moment he had seen it.

"Give me ten minutes, please, Harry, and then you can go back to watching the clouds." He said after having pierced the child long enough with his dark eyes.

"Sorry." The boy sighed but did as he was told and looked at him, shifting in his chair so that he faced him, showing him that he had the child's undivided attention, and he nodded his approval.

"While we are walking through the gardens and do the stretching exercises and the massages on all your limbs, this is no help with your hands and fingers, and so I have ordered this here from St. Mungo's." He said, reaching a green ball of play dough over to Harry who looked at the – clearly offending thing suspiciously, only taking it after a moment of hesitancy and him giving an encouraging nod away.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" The boy asked, holding the play dough in his skeletal and still always trembling fingers, looking over at him, Snape, questioningly, unsurely, and for a moment he wondered if the child had ever been allowed to play with dough, or any other toys at all while he knew the answer to that immediately – namely no, the child had never been allowed to play with any toys at all, and he surely shouldn't wonder why Harry had never learned how to add one number to the other, as any child learned while playing.

"Form it." He said, trying to sound as calm as possible while inwardly he would like to kill some muggles for once, and to kill them as slowly and as painfully as possible and with as much humiliation to them as possible, too. "Roll it in your hands, smash it, shape it, play with it, form animals or plants, do with it whatever you want as long as you do use your fingers, so that they might get back some strength."

"'k." The boy said, unsurely and experimentally pressing his finger into the mass before looking over at him questioningly, warily even, as if he were asking if he did this correctly and waiting for any sort of punishment for destroying the perfectly shaped ball at the same time, and he motioned the boy to go on, again inwardly seething in anger at Petunia Dursley and her husband, knowing that they would pay, that they would pay for a child that had to learn how to play at the age of fourteen.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He had watched Harry – 'playing' – with the dough, in the truest sense of the word, because the fourteen year old teenager had at first deformed the ball, slowly and bit by bit while watching him, Severus, warily, before he had reformed the ball, all the while waiting for either his approval or his disapproval, all the while being unsure if he did it correctly, as if there were a correct way to play with dough.

At one point the boy had outdone himself in his daring, and he had even been able to see the skeletal thin body of his son tensing up before he had – divided the play dough into two pieces, in his eyes clearly destroying the toy, and he had immediately known that the child was about to test his limits, to test his rules, to test the water, to test him, Snape – and perhaps even to test himself.

The pale face had become a tense mask while green eyes had watched him warily, scared even, two horribly trembling hands holding a piece of play dough each, without any movement except the trembling, waiting for the inevitable.

Flashback

Reaching out his hand slowly, palm up, he wordlessly asked for one of the two pieces, and a moment later he could watch how the boy's face fell, the child slowly and carefully, warily, reaching both pieces over at him, a sad expression mixing into the scared one, and it was clear – the child thought this was his punishment for destroying the toy, it would be taken from him and he seemed ready to hand it over wordlessly, clearly disappointed, but wordlessly and without a fuss, accepting, like he so many things in his life had learned to accept.

Wordlessly he took one of the pieces, ignoring the other one and simply started re-forming the play dough while he watched the boy out of the corner of his eyes, the way he slowly and unsurely pulled back his hand with the second piece of dough, again experimentally forming this one back into a smaller ball while watching him warily again – or still – and inwardly he sighed, knowing that with having the boy free, he surely had not solved all problems, knowing that he would have a long road ahead of him with that child, knowing that it would be a difficult road until he had undone all the damage, physical damage as well as emotional damage the Dursleys had bestowed upon this child, if he ever would manage undoing them at all.

End flashback

Harry had gotten more and more confident with time, had even lost himself in his playing while forming things, destroying them just to form other things, and it had been clear that it was the first time he was allowed to play like that, like a small child. The boy had even placed the ball on the table and had smashed it down at one point or another, even though he had looked over at him with large and scared green eyes again, had waited for his nod before taking it and forming it into a ball again.

It had been all too soon that the boy had placed the ball at the table in front of him, trembling fingers massaging each other, and he had known that Harry's fingers had started to hurt upon playing with the dough.

The same balls of play dough, he had given Draco and Theodore later, and both boys had immediately acted like small children, having nothing else than nonsense in their minds with the green mass, but he had allowed it, as they had infected Harry with their nonsense, too, and in the end he'd had three boys sitting there, laughing at their nonsense things they had formed and destroyed and re-formed, and for a moment he had even reprimanded himself for not doing so in the beginning, when introducing the play dough to Harry, for not having Draco and Theodore in the play from the beginning on, but upon a second thought he realized that – no, most likely this experience, sitting there with him and really experimentally starting to play for the first time in his life, it was a private moment that belonged to Harry and him alone.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Allow them those days, Mr. Warrington." Hereweald said when Cameron, the sixth year Slytherin prefect had complained about Severus and the children being in the hospital wing still, clearly wanting to have them back in their house and on their table in the great hall, clearly worrying. "They have been through hell and back, and they have survived this lovely trip, I think they have earned themselves the right to have these few days. Not to mention that they need to prepare themselves for the onslaught civilization will bring. You will have to deal with me until then." He added with a smirk.

"I'm just worried, sir." Warrington frowned, not used to him as his new head of house, and therefore preferring being on the safe side. He could understand that.

"I know, Mr. Warrington, and I just tried to lighten the situation that is stressful enough, for all of you." He seriously answered. "I do realize that I am not your regular head of house, and that surely, you are not too happy about having me as a substitution until Professor Snape is back and they are all well enough so that he can take back his head of house duties."

"May I be open, sir?" The boy asked and he inclined his head, not used to teenagers being so – well-behaved.

"Of course, Mr. Warrington." He then said. "I expect you to be open, always. Civility is important, yes, as is respect, but I do not care for false civility, and respect comes along with honesty."

"Well, sir ..." The boy started before taking a deep breath as if he had to prepare himself for his next words as he didn't know how he, Hereweald Hrothgar, his new temporary head of house, would react. "You are not unlike Professor Snape, sir, and not only in your looks but in your way of moving, and in your sarcasm, too. I am also glad that we got a head of house that at least is a friend of Professor Snape, and someone that at least cares, and you have proved that you do care, with your speech ten days ago, contraire to Professor Slughorn whom the headmaster has appointed for our potions lessons so far. It is just that … Professor Snape has been here for years, and he was a great head of house. He has cared where no one else has cared and so of course the others are worried. And now Adrian is with them, and together with him three other Slytherins that had been ill, they are missing in the eyes of the others. I just think that maybe we should tell them the truth. Professor Snape would have told them the truth, trusting in their word that they would keep the secret."

"I do understand your reasoning, Cameron, but you will have to try and understand mine as well." He then said. "Trust is something we have to earn, Mr. Warrington, and as much as I would like to trust the words of all of you from the beginning on, I do not know you, and you do not know me. You as well as I – we all have to work hard to earn our trust. It won't be easy, but it will be possible. I think, it will be until Saturday and then the children will be back, two days only, Cameron, but it is important that the secret is kept until then. Tomorrow the parents will be brought to Hogwarts, if word goes out before then, hell will break loose, and the parents will have not only the headmaster's hide but any teacher's hides as well, including Severus'. Not to mention that – they would smother and crush the children in the hospital wing without preparation, they would floo over and they would storm the infirmary and startle and frighten them."

"But they'll do so tomorrow anyway." Cameron said, not really understanding.

"Yes, they will do so, but not only will they be prepared by the heads of houses to be careful and slow, but also will they not meet in the hospital wing but in a special prepared room where the children will have enough space so that they can move without feeling locked up and trapped. Not to mention that until then Severus has prepared the children just as well, most likely having prepared one or another of them with a calming draught beforehand." Sighing he leaned back in his chair, watching the boy who seemed to understand. "They will need all their strength for that meeting tomorrow, Mr. Warrington, and after that meeting they will be very tired and exhausted. They will need rest and sleep for another night before the heads of houses will get them re-integrated into the student body and the everyday routine at the castle and the school. I do understand that you all suffer from the loss of your friends and your head of house, Mr. Warrington, but they are the ones whose needs we have to respect. Just take the misters Snape, Nott and Malfoy, they are just one closed door away from Odin's halls and Miss Patil as well as Miss Davis are close behind. As much as I would like comforting your house with the knowledge of their safety, I think those two days are a small prize for their lives, don't you think, Mr. Warrington?"

The boy nodded and then watched him for some time, silently, just sitting there with his mind elsewhere while the others did their homework, or chatted some time away, and he lifted the privacy spell he had cast so that the other students wouldn't stumble over their conversation.

Well, it seemed to go better than he had expected, even though he really had to be careful of how he handled the children, but he had known that it wouldn't be easy to begin with.

Flashback

"I do not care how this idiot might feel, Albus, but I want him away from my Slytherins, and I want him away from them right now!" Severus growled, leaning with both his hands atop the headmaster's desk.

The man had asked him to accompany him to the headmaster's office after the children had been to bed, and Poppy had promised to watch over them, and so they had sneaked through one or another secret passageway that led to the headmaster's office where they had asked the old wizard to call over Slughorn as well.

"Severus!" Said idiot gasped, looking like a goldfish – like a fat goldfish – in a glass of water.

"Do not play the horrified man, Slughorn!" Severus hissed, and Slughorn was reminded of why that man was considered a dark wizard. "I have seen the entries in the potions notebooks from your fifth-year students as well as from your second year students, from different houses not to mention – and there is nothing in there except of random thoughts they had on your poor behaviour and ill favoritism, giving out good marks to either the children of order members or the good-looking and rich children, while the students of the poor families get bad marks never mind their achievements. Not to mention your -" and here the man actually took a few slow and threatening steps towards Slughorn – "poor care for the children you were entrusted with, but those are no news after all. You never have cared about the health of the students under your care, only about the fame you could gather by collecting the famous around you."

"What are you implying, Severus?" The man asked, backing away until he stood with his back against the wall. "Of course, I do care about the students and ..."

"As much as you have cared about Adrian Pucey, Slughorn?" Severus asked, his voice bordering on danger then. "Or is there a special reason as to why this particular child looks as if he has not eaten for at least three weeks, and neither slept one peaceful night? Have you not been the resident Potions Master for the past three weeks? I wonder why you have not provided the child with a dreamless sleep potion every other day and I also wonder how it is that you did not notice his starving and ill appearance. Did you even notice him missing after I have pulled him from classes last night and integrated him into the group of students I have in the hospital wing as his life is in danger, even? Or have you just overlooked the boy missing like you overlook so many other things?"

"Severus, please." The headmaster said and Severus sharply turned towards the older wizard.

"And you!" Severus hissed at Dumbledore. "You better be very quiet, Albus, because you are the headmaster of this bloody school, and one of your students nearly died just under your nose. Did you not make sure that my Slytherins were well cared for upon my absence? Because Adrian is not the only student being ill. I already have the misters Baddoc and Prichard as well as Miss Black pulled from classes and took them into the group of students I have in the infirmary, because they, as well, have lost too much weight for my liking, and because they have missed too much sleep just as well, while no one has cared for their needs Albus. So, you better do not say one single word against my wishes."

"Of course, Severus." Albus immediately said, trying to sooth his Potions Master, a sight that was rather comical, he had to admit, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from chuckling, knowing that he would piss his friend off if he chuckled now. "But what is it you wish anyway?" The man then asked, as if he did not know, already.

"I want you to have this imbecile –" He said while pointing at Slughorn, "leaving the castle, now, and I want you to have Hereweald as the resident Potions Master and the deputy Head of Slytherin for the time being as I surely will be needed for some time longer within the group of students I have in the infirmary right now." The man said and he sighed – so be it. "I also wish for a separate timetable which I will organize myself for those students I deem necessary until further notice, as they won't be able to visit all the classes in the beginning. They have survived because they have settled into their own routine, and they will have to slowly being re-introduced to their daily routine of the castle. I expect you to let me handle them and to let Hereweald handle the Slytherins – with my help of course, he won't be thrown into this alone."

End flashback

Well, alone Slughorn's face had been priceless and shaking his head he leaned back, watching all those children that were his students now. Severus had said that he would not throw him into this alone and the man was indeed available to provide him with help and to even pull one or another student out of their dormitory to integrate them into the group of fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors, like he had done with Adrian, Malcolm, Graham and Emma, but that didn't mean that he didn't feel bloody alone and – somehow at least – overstrained a bit.

Let's just take Miss Emma Black.

The girl definitely was a genius, the third year student being able to answer any sixth or seventh year questions that were thrown at her and she clearly didn't understand why she had to reduce her learning to a level she had reached years ago already, but Severus had told him that actually this particular child was not attending Hogwarts for learning any school related stuff, but for learning how to interact with other human beings, that the girl was able to solve any arithmetic problem that could be asked of her, never mind how complicated, but that she had troubles tying her shoes, that the girl was able to do any spell, to invent new spells even, but that she was unable to even hold her cutlery like any normal child would but did so like a toddler would, that she knew anything about potions one could know, but was unable to actually brewing one.

Balancing above a wall – or just above a line drawn on the ground – the girl was unable doing so, but Severus had kept her at Hogwarts anyway, working on just such things with the girl, having her balancing over drawn lines on the ground, having her brewing potions in single lessons, and having her using scissors, and glue, and coloured pencils, over and over again, explaining to her that the break was necessary. The girl had to learn using a break for relaxing her brain, as difficult as it seemed to her, and often she came running to him with the question if the break wasn't over soon, as for the girl, any break was actually strenuous as she was not challenged then, her brain having nothing to do.

And now Severus hadn't been there, of course the girl had been more than just upset – and therefore nearly impossible to handle.

Sighing he got off the armchair he had been sitting in to leave the Slytherin common room and to visit the hospital wing to have a look at Severus and the children before he would retire in his new set of rooms he'd gotten here at Hogwarts, in the dungeons, near Severus' set of rooms.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Ready for bed?" Severus asked, knowing that he should keep Harry in bed as much as possible, even if the child didn't sleep all the time.

"'M not tired, dad." The boy said, looking up at him nearly startled and he sighed.

"You need to rest, Harry." He said, trying to sound understanding and severe at the same time.

"Dad ... I've been resting all day. Just half an hour more, please." The boy complained, the first real complaint since their imprisonment and he didn't even mind the child complaining for once, for once showing a normal reaction like any other child would upon being sent to bed early. Harry's next words, however, had him sighing, knowing that there was more to the – 'complaint'. "The bed ... hurts."

Of course, he could understand that the mattress hurt the boy's bony back and hips, the bony shoulders, but it was important for his health and that was above any displeasure the child might feel, and so he stood and helped Harry up.

"Let us see what we can do, child, up you get." Severus said, walking a sighing Harry to his bed. "Get in bed and turn on your stomach." He then said.

"Massaging my back and shoulders?" The boy asked while yawning tiredly and he smirked. Not tired, huh?

"It may turn out to be a spanking if you do not obey me quickly." He said, again smirking at how fast the boy was laying on his stomach on the bed, his head resting on bony forearms, and he shook his head.

"I know that you do not like lowering your arms, that you keep them near your head unconsciously and in self-protection, but I need you to lay your arms beside your body and I promise that I won't hurt you." He said, watching the first startled face of his son, then the unsure face, and finally the scared face while thin and bony arms went down slowly, until they were placed beside the thin body – until the child felt his fingers prodding at the little mass that the boy called muscles.

A moment later they were up again, near his upper body and his face, his head, with an "ouch" while the thin body immediately seized up beneath his hands.

"You are too tense, child." He softly said, ignoring the fact that the boy had his arms up again. "Try to relax and breathe deeply. The little mass you call muscles is like strings that got into thousands of knots and I have to loosen them before they get too tight."

Well, it had taken him half an hour at least until he'd had the child relaxed and then asleep finally, but now he wiped his hands on a towel, freeing them of the massaging oil, on a clean towel, and he remembered the bliss on the children's faces upon Poppy bringing them clean towels which they could use after a hot shower, before dressing in clean clothes – it had been pure bliss on their pale faces that night, as if they were in heaven.

"I will be down in the dungeons for an hour." He said to Minerva who had come visiting a few minutes ago. "Brewing a potion needed for ..."

"Oh no, you won't, Severus!" That blasted woman interrupted him with her usual lack of tact and timing. "You will sit down and have a rest for once. I know Harry, and this boy can make the best of us despair even after having had a good night's rest. Without enough food and rest, who knows what you will turn into! Perhaps that boy would even make you smile, and I highly doubt that many in this castle would survive that!"

"Harry does need that potion, woman, and I will brew it." He growled angrily. "And I will brew it right now so that next time the child has to go to bed he can do so without being in pain because there is nothing than skin between the mattress and his bones! Do you not think that there had been enough adults in that child's life already that had let him down and ignored his needs?"

And without waiting for an answer he strolled out of the infirmary room.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He was running down the corridors on his way to the potions classroom, or to Snape's office, hoping to find the man in one of these rooms, trying to find the way but he had the feeling that the castle had changed, because everything down here in the dungeons looked so strange suddenly, so unknown and still he couldn't find Snape, but he knew that he needed the man, that he needed his father, because there was the stone he still held in his hands, dripping blood and poison down his hand, his fingers, and he shuddered while he tried to run faster.

If he weren't just so damn weak and if he would just finally find the damn potions classroom!

They'd been down there for weeks and now he didn't find the blasted thing? How stupid was that?

A moment later there was Quirrel, demanding the stone from him and he shook his head, screaming at the man that he wouldn't get it. Quirrel then told him that he was on the wrong way anyway, that the corridor didn't lead to the potions classroom, and he asked the man how he got there then.

And then Voldemort's face stuck out of Quirrel's head and waved at him, the hissing voice telling him the way, but it wasn't the way to the potions classroom, and he ended up in the chamber of secrets.

Looking around, startled, he wondered what he was supposed to do here. He already had saved Ginny, hadn't he? And he didn't see Ginny either, the girl was nowhere in sight, and neither was Tom Riddle and even Quirrel with Voldemort's face sticking out of his head was gone now, and he was alone down here.

A moment later he felt something piercing his arm, but looking down at his arm he could find nothing there.

Instead there was the tip of the basilisk's fang sticking out of his chest and he could even feel the fang going through his body, from his back where it had entered, clearly somewhere between his shoulder blades, to his chest where it stuck out, covered with his blood and at once he knew that he had to move.

He had to look for the Potions Master, for his dad, his dad surely could safe him, the man had always saved him, and the man was a Potions Master after all, a Potions Master who knew everything about poisons, so if anyone could safe him, then it was his dad. Somewhere in his mind he knew that his dad could surely do something about the poison if only the headmaster had told him, but he didn't understand that thought completely to begin with.

He could feel the poison already running through his body, through his veins, felt the coldness that claimed his body, could feel the weakness claiming him, could feel the heat replacing the coldness a moment later, and he knew, he had to go to the dungeons classroom quickly now ... if only he remembered the way.

All of a sudden Quirrel was back, but he wasn't really Quirrel anymore but turning into uncle Vernon who was beating him, who was locking him into his cupboard, telling him that he wouldn't get anything to eat for the next twenty-one days, and still he hadn't found his dad, and his dad didn't know that uncle Vernon had kidnapped him and locked him away, and then his dad would never find him and ...

What felt slightly off was the cool hand that suddenly lay on his forehead while he knew that hand, knew whom it belonged to, but that was ridiculous, because he couldn't understand what his dad was doing in his cupboard here ...

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Come now, child!" He urged while placing his hand over the much too hot forehead of his son, scowling in his worry. A fever surely was the last thing he right now needed, added to the child's general poor health. "Wake up, Harry, you are just dreaming, you are at Hogwarts and safe from your uncle."

"Dad ..." The boy whispered, his voice rough and scratchy, the much too hot face blushed with the fever, and he wondered how it had been able to climb so quickly and so high, during one hour only, while he had brewed the potion that would keep the boy's skin from abrasions while laying in bed, as thin as he was.

"You have a fever, Harry." He said, explaining. "You need to take this potion to bring it down, and then I have a potion to rub into your skin so that the bed won't hurt anymore."

"It hurts ..." The boy whispered. "Head an' ... an' chest ... the basilisk bit me ..."

"No Harry, that was a dream only." He said while placing the vial with the fever reducer at the boy's mouth and dipping the vial, forcing the boy to swallow the liquid that ran into his mouth. "Here, child, drink some water." He then added, placing a glass of cold water at the boy's lips.

"You went 'way ..." The boy accused, and he frowned.

"I had a potion to brew, and I am back now." He said, running a cold and wet cloth over the hot face of his son.

"Needed you." His son whispered and he sighed while turning the cloth, knowing that yes, the child was right, he would have needed him. Minerva had been here, yes, but Minerva was no medi-witch and of course she had not seen the fever coming on. He would have seen it, and he could have given the fever reducer sooner.

"It was one hour only, son." He said, still wondering how that fever could have taken hold and run so high so quickly.

"But the basilisk ... it told me that ... that I'd die, and its tooth stuck in my chest." The boy murmured, green eyes opening and looking over at him, glassy and unfocused. "All through from my back ... but ... but I couldn't find you ... 'cause of the poison."

"There is no fang of a basilisk and no poison either, child." He soothed, dunking the cloth into the bowl with cold water and then running it over the child's calves. "It has been just a dream, and I am quite here."

"But it's ... it's been there ..." The boy frowned, clearly not understanding that it had been a dream only, massaging his right arm. "In my second ... in my second year ... bit my arm ..."

Frowning himself he gently took the child's right wrist in his hand, examining the boy's arm, and a moment later he actually gasped at the clearly visible spot were the basilisk's fang had been piercing the child's lower arm, running through to rupture on the other side.

So, it hadn't been a dream, not completely after all because the child had really been bitten by a basilisk!

Merlin!

How could Albus keep this a secret from him? He had been the resident Potions Master back then, already, and even if Fawkes had healed the child's wound and neutralized the poison to the point where the boy would survive the basilisk's bite – because Fawks was the only reason he could think of the child being alive, still – he should have been informed immediately to have a look at the injury and to prevent further complications – such as a fever starting and then interacting with remaining poison that already was running through the child's veins for Merlin's sake!

The phoenix tears could only neutralize the poison that was in the wound still, but not the poison that was already running through someone's veins, remaining poison that wasn't strong enough to kill if the phoenix was quick enough, but would remain in the body anyway and that would interact with some illnesses that under normal circumstances were harmless, like a light fever for example, and he didn't wonder anymore how it was that the fever here was running so high after an hour only.

"My head hurts." The boy whispered while he wet the cloth again and then run it over his son's arms, his face grim – if only Albus had told him about that Basilisk bite, he could have prevented this fever, and perhaps other fever attacks the child might have had before, and of which he didn't know.

"It shows that it is not as hard as we both thought." He growled, trying to make fun so that the boy would not notice his worry. Merlin, the boy was already weak enough and he was not out of the woods yet from their imprisonment for the past three weeks, and now he had to fight with new troubles that threatened his already so weak life.

What had he gotten himself into by adopting this particular child that seemed to knock on Death's door at every turn he took?

"Can you get ... can you get Fawkes, dad?" The boy asked, running his tongue over his dry lips and he placed the wet cloth at the child's chest before taking the glass and helping the boy to drink a few more sips of water.

"I could, but not now." He softly said. "Right now, I expect you to drink and then sleep."

"But ... the basilisk ..."

"Is not here at the moment." He soothed, placing his hand at the boy's feverish eyes, closing them. "We will talk after you have slept and without a basilisk interfering our conversation."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in A few days more
Parent day

Added author's note
thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you
also, of course I have re-installed the house cup – with each review, please state your house, so that your house can get a point. There won't be loss of points, only gains … may the best house with the most reviews win …

House Cup:
At the present time it looks like this:

Slytherin 94
Gryffindor 53
Ravenclaw 27
Hufflepuff 14
Hogwarts 21
Durmstrang 04
Tennessee Institute of Magic & Technomancy 01