The Space Between Failing and Falling • Snarry •

Chapter 7: Terror and Truce

The Healer says to Severus, "I must ask you to leave now. You are not Mr Potter's next of kin."

"Yes he is! I added him ages ago!" Potter turns to him and points a finger at his Healer. "You see? Incompetent. I just had a run in with some traffic. Could you Apparate me to the Chelsea and Westminster A&E? Once you've transfigured your robes?" Potter plucks the dittany from the Healer's hands.

There are no words.

"Listen, can I borrow this tub of bruise paste?" Potter asks. "I'll send some money."

"Mr Potter," Severus says, "I insist that you sit back down. You are not well. As you are not dying, I shall take my leave." He turns on his heel.

"Wait!"

Potter has caught up with him in the corridor, the Aurors look aghast, and Severus says, "Goodbye."

He Apparates to the front step of number seventeen, Spinner's End, and he is horrified to find that Potter has latched on.

"I did not give you permission to join me," he hisses, shaking off Potter's clutching fingers.

He waves his wand and the candles burst to light. Lit by flame, Potter looks pale. Bruises bloom across his jaw and cheekbone.

Concern eclipses his anger.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to Side-Along, you left so soon—"

"Hush, now. Sit."

Severus removes several tomes from the bookshelf to reveal a concealed box. When he opens it by brushing his fingertips around the edge, it is very much larger than it seems.

Potter still has the Essence of Dittany. That will be useful.

"Can you sort me out? I know you're good at healing—"

"Don't speak. Tell me if you feel especially faint." He hands Potter the painkiller and says, "Have just a sip, it's very strong."

"Episkey!" He heals the break in Potter's zygomatic arch, and the fractures beneath his hair. It'll take him longer than Poppy to patch Potter up, in part due to the reverent rather than clinical way he rubs in the Bruisewort Paste.

When the greenish smoke rises from the drips of dittany onto his cuts, Potter winces.

His grandmother watches with keen interest. "You'll be better in no time, dear," she says.

Potter's head jerks up.

"Oh, hello! I know I will." He smiles at Severus, whose heart clenches. He refuses to return it.

"You are welcome to visit any time," she offers.

"Thanks!"

"This is my house," Severus clarifies.

The neurological examination is normal—his pupils are equal and reactive to light, eye movements are fine, there is neither nystagmus nor diplopia. His heart sounds are clear (Severus holds his ear to Harry's chest but does not linger overlong).

He repairs a fracture in Potter's ankle. His reflexes are brisk and symmetrical, he can heel-toe walk, and Romberg's testing is negative.

No lasting damage.

Probably.

He presses a Blood-Replenishing Potion into Potter's palm. "The whole thing. Drink it."

He Summons a flannel, and wets and warms it, before passing it to Potter.

"Thanks."

When there's less blood and he is so relieved that Harry is fine, his fury rushes back in full force.