As Potter is to Snape

Chapter 17

When Harry woke up the next morning, it took him a moment to remember why it was that he felt as awful as he did. He had sicked up right in front of his professor. How embarrassing! His stomach ached and his head was pounding. It took him longer still, to work out what Snape was doing sleeping on one of the overstuffed armchairs in his room.

This was the second time since Harry had come to live with him that he had awoken to find the man so close. Had he been here all night? Why, when his own bed was just down the hall?

Suddenly, his stomach began to ache painfully and he tried to stifle a groan as he curled in on himself, willing the stabbing pain to subside. Snape had only been resting quietly in the chair however and when he heard Harry's gasp of pain, he immediately sat upright and looked over at the boy.

"Potter?" He questioned as he stood up and began to make his way over to the bed.

"I'm fine," mumbled Harry, his voice muffled by his pillow.

Harry lay on his side, his eyes were squeezed shut and his face was pale and screwed up in pain as he wrapped his arms tighter around himself, bringing his knees up towards his chest.

"You ridiculous child," Snape half-heartedly scolded, "do you think I am blind? I can clearly see that you are not fine." Without another word, Snape sat on the edge of the bed, waved his wand, and then waited as more potions flew into Harry's room.

"Alright, sit up here so you can take these potions," Snape said as he reached over and felt Harry's forehead. Harry flinched back at the contact but Snape paid it no mind. "Your fever is back up again. You need to take these potions, Potter." When Harry only shook his head and burrowed deeper into the covers, Snape rolled his eyes.

"Potter, are you in pain?"

Harry mumbled incoherently into his pillow once again and Snape sighed before pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Clearly stronger tactics were needed.

"If you can not cooperate with me, then I suppose I should floo call Madam Pomfrey and have her come and have a look at you for herself."

"Sna-ape, nooo," Harry whined as he finally turned his head to look up at the professor.

Snape raised his brows at the boy but made no further comment. Instead, he simply waited, and then with a sigh, Harry turned over and pushed himself up so that he was leaning against the headboard.

"Very good." Snape said with a nod and then asked, "What exactly is hurting you? And please refrain from whining when you answer me."

"I just feel sore all over, but it's mostly just my stomach that hurts and my head."

Snape reached over to where the potions had settled on Harry's nightstand and picked up the first one. "A stomach soother first then." Then as an afterthought, he added, "Would it help if it were flavored?"

Harry blinked up at Snape slowly. Had he really just offered to flavor potions so that it would be easier for him to take?! What was going on here?

He sat up straighter and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why are you being like this?" He demanded to know. "I'm not dying, Snape, I've just got the stomach flu or something." He snapped.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "I am perfectly capable, Potter, of coming to that conclusion myself. I merely thought you would prefer to take them if they were flavored to a taste you enjoy. I certainly won't make that mistake again." He thrust the potion vial towards Harry who took it instinctively, though he scowled at his guardian as he did so.

"You don't have to be so cross about it," Harry muttered as he sniffed the potion, curling his nose up at the smell.

"Nor do you," Snape replied evenly. "Sick or not, Potter, how you behave is entirely up to you. You can choose to wallow in your misery or you can attempt to have a positive attitude. I understand that you do not feel well and that you are exhausted. You've barely slept at all and the time you did sleep, you were restless because your body is fighting sickness, however, that doesn't give you the right to be rude."