27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

69

Harry spent the last night before break out in the Forbidden Forest. Severus had joined him for the first half hour or so before becoming fed up with his refusal to slow down and had slithered moodily back to the castle. Harry couldn't blame him; it was his last night of pure freedom before resigning himself to the cramped backyard of Spinner's End, and he hadn't made much of an effort to hold back. Not for the first time, he wondered if there would come a time when he and Severus would find a place that wasn't Spinner's End, somewhere in the country with a large parcel of land, but they had only been dating (though that seemed much too juvenile a word) for four months, and despite having lived together for nearly four years, it felt much, much too early. Probably any time would, but that was for later consideration. Tonight was for the Forest.

Harry didn't waste energy on paying attention to where he was going. Part of his Basilisk powers involved a near perfect sense of direction, and while he enjoyed his ever-increasing knowledge of the Forest, tonight he wanted something new. He sped around the edges of the centaur territory, gave the Acromantulas a wide berth, startled a unicorn grazing in a small clearing by mistake, and after that the only animals he saw were normal, Muggle forest creatures. Several hours in, he accidentally hit a small tree with his tail, dislodging a squirrel, and had a brief snack before continuing. As much as he enjoyed fresh kills, eating too much would slow him down, and that was the last thing he wanted.

The sky was overcast and it was impossible to tell the time, but Harry thought it was roughly one or two in the morning when he saw what looked to be a large nest cradled between two trees. He flicked out his tongue, nervously testing the air. Something was wrong. The eggs were far bigger than any he had seen in the forest before, and the air smelled strange. Most disconcerting, both the eggs and the smell were familiar, filling him with an unnamed sense of trepidation. All smells needed getting used to as a Basilisk, and even those as familiar as fresh grass were strange at first. The combination of taste and smell was new and off-putting, and both were so strong that everything seemed different.

Cautiously, he approached the nest. There were three eggs, each the size of a Quaffle, and a dirty, speckled sort of grey. Harry started to panic, and he flicked at the air again to confirm.

Burnt leaves.

His insides turned to ice.

Oh fuck. Oh Merlin no. No, no, no, this can't be happening. No.

But once he made the connection it couldn't be unmade, and there was no mistaking the familiarity of the eggs in front of them. He had only seen them once before, but once was enough. There was no gold egg nestled amongst them, but he didn't need an ornate fake to prove what he already knew. He kept trying to tell himself that it couldn't be, he wasn't anywhere near Hungary, northern Scotland was safely separated from eastern Europe by twenty-five hundred kilometers, there was no way, it couldn't be. He also kept telling himself to move, move now, get the fuck out of here, but he was frozen in petrified horror.

I'm not in Hungary, Harry thought dumbly. It can't be, I'm not in Hungary. They can't make me do this again. He had no idea who "they" were, only that it was unacceptable, and he would have some very strict words with the Governors about this, because he'd already been through the first task once, they couldn't make him do it again. And he wasn't bloody in Hungary!

He picked up the leathery sound of wings, and told himself to leave.

Immediately.

He felt the rush of air and saw the canopy waving frantically, and told himself to leave.

Immediately.

He heard the crunching of branches, then of leaves, and he told himself to leave.

Immediately.

Then the dragon stepped into view, and it didn't matter anymore. Yellow eyes surrounded by black scales and accented with bronze horns and spikes saw him immediately. She shrieked in rage, and Harry supposed it looked as though he was poised to eat her eggs. Stupid, really, given how tough they were, and the spikes within, but apparently dragons didn't think that way. She shot a burst of flame at him that he barely had time to dodge. He careened off to the right, bouncing off a tree before streaking away. There was a tremendous crashing as the dragon advanced, and another jet of flame he didn't quite miss. The tip of his tail was engulfed in fire, the edges of his scales singeing and curling up. Harry pushed himself faster, told himself that the forest was too thick to allow a dragon passage, but it didn't matter. He was in a grove of pine trees, trees not known for their density, and it stretched on as far as he could see. What obstacles there were she obliterated with fire and her massive frame. Another blast of flame caught his left side, and as well as the edges of his scales curling, several fell off entirely, leaving his skin bare, blistered and excruciating.

Faster, he needed to go faster. Instead he was slowing, the pain in his side preventing him from moving any faster. The dragon's thundering steps drew closer, and then her tail connected with his side, spikes easily slicing through his scales and flesh, flinging him fifteen or twenty yards, crashing through trees and sending ancient pines tumbling to the ground.

"Stop!" he yelled in Parseltongue, having a vague idea that dragons were sort of like snakes, and knowing that wasn't true but needed to try. "Stop, I wasn't—"

A jet of fire set the tree he had settled against ablaze, and he took off again, moving as quickly as his battered body would allow. The holes in his side were pouring blood, he could smell the coppery tinge trailing behind him, and he could feel every leaf, every twig, every particle of dirt against his bare skin where his scales had once been.

Eyes!

Harry whirled around and locked gazes with the dragon. She paused for a moment, then breathed out crimson death. He flung himself into motion, realizing how stupid he had been. Oculus Ius; works every time. He could change back to human and then back to Basilisk to deactivate the potion, but if he was in this bad shape as a magical serpent, he thought being a human might kill him, even for the time it took to—

Her tail connected again, this time with the side of his head. He shrieked in a way he hadn't known he was capable of, once again slamming into countless trees before he came to a skidding halt. At least he didn't feel the impact this time—no, he was too busy with the searing pain in his face and trying to think through the greyish haze that was descending over his mind and eyes. He had to move, had to do something, or he was going to be roasted. Good advice; now if only he could will his broken body into action, he'd be fine.

Harry resumed his escape, though that was a grand word for the meager slithering he could manage. His mind was once again stuck on Hungary—he wasn't in Hungary, why was there a Hungarian Horntail in Scotland, it was Scotland, not Hungary. Flames consumed the end of his tail again, incinerating the already charred scales, and injuring new ones. It spurred him into action, at least, and he found he could, in fact, go at full speed again. Especially because just ahead now the forest closed back in on itself, oaks and elms and yews blocking the way for any creature wider than a snake. With one last burst of speed he flew into the woods.

The dragon screamed in rage, but her scream was behind him again. Acutely aware that she could take to flight at any moment and fry him through the canopy, Harry continued to push himself, the adrenaline pounding through him giving him speed but no relief from the pain. He was raw, bubbling, melted, and charred, bleeding profusely from the tail wounds, head swimming from the direct strike, and still he had to go. He had no idea how far he was from Hogwarts, and in fact started to think he was, in fact, in Hungary, because why else would he have run into a Hungarian Horntail? Yes, somehow he had apparated out of the Forbidden Forest, or found a portkey, or a bloody wormhole, and had ended up in Hungary. It all made sense now. What, exactly, was he racing towards, then? His grasp of eastern Europe was vague at best. Romania was somewhere nearby, they had more dragons but also dragon trainers, wizards who knew how to handle dragon injuries, but what direction was Romania?

West, he remembered suddenly. Romania was west because it was on the sea. Only which way was west? The sky was clouded over so he couldn't use the stars or the moon. Something about moss growing on one side of trees flashed through his mind, but there was moss everywhere, and he didn't remember it anyway. He'd just have to trust his sense of direction to take him somewhere safe. Hungary didn't feel particularly safe in the slightest, but surely somewhere there was someone, and Romania, if he could get to Romania…

Harry forced himself faster, hissing in pain as he whipped himself through the forest. All thought drifted away as he ran—no, slithered, he was a snake not a human—leaving nothing but the pain. He felt himself slowing down and tried to push but there wasn't anything left. His fogged mind told him Romania, and he sped up for maybe fifty yards before deteriorating. He was crashing against trees, leaving smears of blood and broken trunks in his wake, and with each hit he learned a new level of pain, but he couldn't straighten out. Too much, it was too much. He didn't want to be in Hungary or Romania, he wanted Scotland, the Forbidden Forest, Hogwarts, home, his bed.

Severus.

Strength flooded through him. Severus, he had Severus waiting for him back at the castle. He wasn't in Hungary after all, he was in the Forbidden Forest, and on the other side was Severus. If he could make it just a little farther, just to the edge of the forest, he could force himself over to Hagrid's hut and get help. If there was help to be had, and he wasn't beyond repair. The thought was chilling and convincing. Even if he was going to die, and the way he was starting to get dizzy and still couldn't get his thoughts straight made it seem all the more likely with each fresh torrent of blood, he could still see Severus again, one last time. He moved faster, keeping the thought of his lover in the front of his mind. Grey fog kept trying to block it out but he pushed it away. He might not see him again, he could be hundreds of kilometers away from the castle, but with every movement he drew closer to the castle, and the closer he was the more likely his body would be found, and then at least Severus would know. His friends, too, they could hold a proper ceremony.

He was slowing again. The grey was taking over. Trees that had been blurring past him now moved sluggishly. Whip-like motions decreased to swishes. He could hardly see as the grey closed around him. For the first time he realized he couldn't hear out of his left ear, the side he'd been hit. A little further, he told himself. Just a little further and he could see Severus, look into his eyes—which was a joke, after the stupidity with the dragon—and hear his voice, feel the warmth of his hand on his scales, or what was left of them, and then maybe dying wouldn't be so bad. He'd done it before, after all, in these very woods. Maybe Dumbledore would be waiting for him on the other side again, and they could ride the train together. A little farther, one last kiss from Severus, and then he'd be at King's Cross again. The pain would be gone. He'd be able to think clearly. There wouldn't be any dragons. He wouldn't be hallucinating, and he—

Wait. He had been hearing hoof beats for a few minutes now and had dismissed them as his injured ear misfiring, but now he could feel the vibrations through the earth. It didn't seem like a hallucination. The pain from the shaking ground was certainly real enough.

Harry realized he had stopped moving and that continuing was out of the question. Maybe it was a unicorn. That would be nice, dying with a unicorn. Severus would be better, but a unicorn was good. Yes, unicorns were very good. The last thing he saw were astonishingly blue eyes, and then everything faded away.

70

A hand on his forehead.

He had a forehead? He thought he was dead.

A familiar hand, though.

"Harry, please."

Familiar voice, too, and then it was gone.

71

Whiteness.

That made more sense. It wasn't King's Cross, it wasn't anything, but it was white.

Dumbledore was not amongst the whiteness.

His right hand—how was he still corporeal? he didn't understand—was warm.

Mm, white and warm. A good place to be.

Then he wasn't anywhere.

72

Screaming.

Contorting in pain, so it was probably him screaming.

What was going on with this physical form thing?

Burning everywhere. Sharp, glassy points in his side and his head.

The screams were so loud, he was getting a headache. Couldn't he just shut up?

Coolness spreading through him, originating where he supposed his mouth was.

Cool was better. He never wanted to be hot again. Didn't know why, though.

73

He had been in the forest.

Blue eyes had been in the forest. Dumbledore must have greeted him there, then, and brought him here.

But why wasn't he here now? Where was here? Not King's Cross. White, though.

White fading into black.

"Don't go."

The voice tugged at him, but he drifted away.

74

"Harry, my love, please. Open your eyes."

Did he have eyes? Weren't they open, wasn't that how he could see the white?

And really. If he was going to be dead, he ought to at least be free of his body. He'd always had vague notions of flying in the afterlife, flying without his broom, but he couldn't do that if he still had a body.

Maybe—maybe he wasn't dead.

If that were true, he'd certainly need his body.

Pain started to seep through the white, and he left.

75

"Oh, Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry, please."

The voice was different from the other voice. He wasn't sure how.

"Please, Harry, wake up. We need you, don't we?"

"Mum—" The voice broke off as a foghorn sounded. No, wait, that was the voice. "Mum says you've got to. For the wedding. It's too late to find a new best man."

"Ron, shut up, he doesn't want to hear about that."

Ron? Ron was here? Ron wasn't dead, too, was he? He would have company, at least, wherever he was, if Ron was dead.

"Mum told me to tell him."

He didn't want Ron dead, of course.

"You mum says a lot of things! Harry, don't listen to him. The wedding doesn't matter."

But, still. Company would be nice.

"It wouldn't be the same without you, mate."

Everything was so white.

"Ron!"

So very, very white.

76

Too many voices. One was hard enough to keep track of.

"She's been relocated, along with her eggs, back to the reserve. No idea how it got here in the first place, but the last thing you guys need is a dragon."

DRAGON

DRAGONDRAGONDRAGON

RUN

77

Screaming again.

Red-hot heat.

Icepicks through his side and head.

Coolness, wasn't there coolness before? Where was the coolness? He needed the coolness.

"Breathe, Harry. Please, relax, breathe. I need you to breathe. Breathe for me."

The first voice, possibly. The pain was too much.

His head ached from the screaming. If he was really making that noise, wouldn't he stop when it hurt?

Why was it hurting when he shouldn't have a body to hurt?

Red overtook the white. Did that mean this was hell?

"I love you, please. Harry, please. Breathe."

He wouldn't be loved in hell.

Still red, though.

78

It occurred to him that the astonishingly blue eyes from before were too bright to be Dumbledore's.

Who had blue eyes?

The answer seemed close. He thought it had to do with the forest.

And hadn't there been—

Did unicorns have blue eyes? Maybe ones that brought you to death.

That was it. A unicorn who could cross between the land of the living and the dead. Maybe it had eaten the resurrection stone by mistake.

…wait, what?

His brow furrowed.

A flurry of voices.

"Harry! He moved, I saw him move!"

"No, we would have seen."

"No! He looked confused! I swear to Merlin, he looked confused."

"You are endlessly confusing. It would hardly come as a surprise."

He wanted that voice. Whatever voice that was, he wanted that one. The others were good, but that was the one.

"I wasn't even saying anything!"

"Really, Ron, he didn't."

Ron again? Was he dead, then?

Maybe he was alive after all. That would explain the having-a-body business. There wasn't any reason for Ron to be dead.

…then why was there a reason for him to be dead?

Something about the forest.

"Yes, he did."

79

"Imagine it, surviving two dragon attacks."

DRAGONRUNDRAGONRUNRUNRUN

"Don't. Don't try, it can't help, you'll only upset yourself."

"Yeah, but two dragons. After all that he's been through! Two!"

DON'TTALKRUNDRAGONRUNDRAGONDRAGON

FIRE

DRAGONRUN

SPIKES FLYING THROUGH THE AIR SPIKES FIRE

DRAGONDRAGONDRAGONDRAGONDRAGONDRAGON

"Shut up."

The good voice, the best voice.

He didn't want to run from the voice. But if there were dragons, if there were dragons he needed to run, run, runRUNRUNRUNDRAGON

"Harry, Mum told me to ask again, about the wedding. It's in two weeks, and—ow! 'Mione!"

Hermione couldn't be dead. That didn't make any sense, she was far too practical for that.

"Ronald Weasley shut your mouth."

Oh, why was yelling so good? He loved the voice even when it was yelling.

He reached for the voice. White started to fade away to—

Colors?

A warm hand on his. He thought it belonged to the voice. They were both so good.

Red off to the side. Brown next to it. More brown next to that.

Black off to the other side.

He had forgotten about colors. They were sort of strange. He wanted the white back, but he wanted the voice and the hand more. And if Ron and Hermione were here, he wanted them, too.

He decided he definitely wasn't dead. He had a hand and there were colors. Those things were strictly reserved for living people.

Probably.

He'd only been dead twice, after all. He was hardly an expert. And if he wasn't dead now, only once. Definitely not an expert.

With the colors and the hand came pain. He moaned.

"Did you—"

"I thought I heard—"

Burning, searing pain.

"Harry, was that you?"

Spikes piercing through him.

A hand on his forehead. No pain there, just the hand. The other hand, the other was still in his hand.

"Harry?"

The voice again.

"Harry, are you awake?"

He wanted to answer the voice.

The pain brought clarity. It wasn't a voice, or a hand, or even two hands. He knew the voice and he knew the hands.

"Sssehhhh…"

"Harry!"

"Shut up, Neville! Harry can you talk?"

Neville was here, too? He must have been the second brown blur.

He was starting to connect the voices to names. The voice that told Neville to shut up, that was Ron. Red blur, excitable voice, Ron.

"We won't be able to hear if you keep talking!" Bossy brown blur. Hermione. "Both of you, shut up!"

The hand—Severus' hand, it was Severus, his voice and his hands and his black blur—Severus' hand stroked his hair. His voice was quiet and strange, but he still recognized it.

"Harry?"

He wanted Severus. He wanted to come back for Severus, to talk for him.

He had wanted him before.

In the forest, by the astonishingly blue eyes. He had been trying to find Severus.

He had pushed himself so far for him. He had come back from—from where?

Hungary.

He'd come back form Hungary.

…what?

Wait, hadn't someone been talking about dragons?

rundragon

Hungary. Dragon.

dragondragondragon

"Harry, love?"

Severus' voice. Not a dragon, Severus' voice.

"Sssssss."

"Healer! We need a Healer!" That was Hermione, he thought.

He had been running to Severus.

No, running from something.

Running from.

DRAGON

"Run!"

The voice cut through the air like a knife. All the other voices fell silent.

He couldn't hear the dragon and it was quiet, but the dragon was coming, they had to run, had to leave right away, the dragon, dragon, the DRAGON—

"Ruhh—run, ruhhh—drahh—"

Voices exploded around him, but there weren't any footsteps.

Or fire, or spikes.

But the dragon, they had to go, why wasn't anybody listening, there was a bloody dragon.

Severus' hand squeezed his, and somehow he could hear his voice through the others.

"No, Harry, there is no dragon. You escaped. You're at St. Mungo's."

He was so confused. Frantic and confused.

"Noo."

"Yes," Severus said firmly. "You escaped, and the centaurs brought you to Hogwarts, and then you were rushed to the hospital."

Astonishingly blue eyes. Firenze had astonishingly blue eyes.

Hungary. Hungarian Horntail.

In the Forbidden Forest? Or had he been in Hungary?

Oh, Merlin, everything hurt. The blurs faded to white.

Coolness flooded him.

"You're going to be okay," Severus said gently. "Go back to sleep, I will be here when you wake up."

"We will all—"

Whoever's voice that was got cut off by the white.

81

Harry opened his eyes. The ceiling was white. Ron, Hermione, and Neville were sitting on his left talking softly, and Severus was on his right, holding his hand. He felt raw, like he'd been rubbed down with rough sandpaper. There were sharp spears of pain, five grouped on the right side of his ribcage and three on the left side of his head by his temple. There was a faint ringing in his left ear. He thought about trying to sit up but thought it might be a stupid idea.

"Severus?" His throat was raw, too, but manageable.

His friends stopped talking, and Severus jerked to face him. Harry thought he might have been dozing lightly. He wondered how long he had been here for.

"Harry, are you awake?"

His voice was like honey, soothing his burns. Because they were burns, not sandpaper. Burns from a dragon.

Dragon

But not here, there wasn't a dragon in the hospital. There had been a dragon in—in the Forbidden Forest? Or Hungary? Harry was hazy on the details. He had no idea why he would be in Hungary, but the idea was pervasive.

"Think so." Harry started coughing, and Hermione immediately held up a cup of water, complete with straw. He took slow sips until he could breathe again. He must have inhaled a lot of smoke, though he didn't remember doing so. Maybe the dragon had breathed flames down his mouth, but that didn't seem likely. Probably smoke, and he had been too busy to notice.

"How're you feeling?" Ron asked.

Harry didn't know how to answer that. Neville replied for him.

"A dragon nearly killed him! How do you think he feels?"

Harry nodded weakly. "That." He had only said four words, but the effort left him exhausted. Still, there were things he needed to know before he lost consciousness. Or maybe by now it was called going to sleep, he wasn't sure. "How bad?"

"You've made a fantastic recovery," Hermione said quickly. "Really, Harry, they're calling it a miracle. Nobody should have survived what you went through."

That didn't sound good. "How bad?" he repeated, looking to Severus. He wouldn't lie or dance around the truth.

"You were severely burned," Severus said. "You broke nearly every bone it is possible to break, and outright shattered six ribs. All of your breaks have healed with the exception of your bottom two ribs, which I am afraid you will have to learn to live without. It is nothing to worry over. The burns have been more difficult, though you are recovering. The other strike on your head, those wounds have healed, but as for other damage, we have—" He cleared his throat. "It was not possible to tell the extent of your injuries until you woke."

Whether he was brain dead, that's what Severus was getting at. He wasn't, he knew that. But missing two ribs? That wasn't anything to worry about? It certainly seemed worrisome. "Head's fine," he croaked out. "Hurts. Ear's ringing. My ribs?"

"They're called floating ribs," Hermione supplied, sounding a little calmer. "Some people are born with one less set than normal, some with an extra. You're lopsided, but it's really not as bad as it sounds."

Harry decided to let it go, at least for now. "The burns?" His heart clenched. "My scales?"

His friends exchanged nervous looks, and even Severus looked unsettled. That did not bode well.

"We do not know," Severus said. "I changed you back as soon as you were back at Hogwarts, but you are in no condition to attempt a change now or any time soon. There is reason to believe when your human form is healed so will your Basilisk, but there is no way to know for sure."

Harry didn't like that at all, but he supposed there wasn't anything he could do about it. "The burns?" he repeated.

"Healing," Severus repeated. "They were very deep and it is a long process, but you will recover fully."

Okay, good. Presumably if fragile human skin could heal, so could toughened Basilisk scales, which was equally good. He knew there was no use trying to explain that his Basilisk body was just as much him as his human form, and no hope whatsoever of telling them that after the dragon it was almost more important. If he hadn't been a Basilisk, he'd be dead. His Basilisk self had rescued his human self, and he would never forget it. He supposed his human self had also rescued his Basilisk self by inventing the potions to manage it, but this was different. He had survived a dragon.

"How long've I been here?" Harry asked, voice still rough. He drank the water Hermione held out for him gratefully.

"Just shy of two months," Severus replied.

Harry jerked, getting water up his nose and triggering a sneezing and coughing fit so painful he nearly passed out. Two months? He had missed his birthday. He knew that wasn't important in the big picture, that he'd have plenty of birthdays and turning twenty-two wasn't particularly special, but it was his birthday!

"Our wedding's not for another week and a half," Ron said.

"Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Stop it! How many times do I have to tell you to stop bringing up the bloody wedding?"

"It's not me!" Ron protested. "It's my mum!"

Harry laughed faintly. "T's fine. I'll be there."

"You will not," Severus said sharply. "You are remaining in St. Mungo's until you are completely healed. Have you any idea how susceptible to infections burn victims are? And until your brain function has been fully examined, you aren't to do so much as sit. I absolutely forbid it."

Harry decided this was a conversation that could wait. He ran back through his memories of the attack and the time he was unconscious, putting the pieces together and finding what was missing. "Was Charlie here?"

Ron's face lit up. "Yeah! You remember that? He was the leader of the team who rehomed the dragon. We didn't think you'd be able to hear, but he wanted to tell you in person that she was in Romania and the Forbidden Forest is officially dragon-free. Do you remember everything we said?"

Harry shook his head. "Bits and pieces." He turned to Severus, who had been the one to bring it up. "Centaurs found me?"

"Not just any centaurs, but Firenze," Neville burst in. "He convinced the others to help you. They made a sort of sling out of vines, and carried you to the school. We're growing them now, those vines, just in case."

"You came very far," Severus said softly. "Did you intend on finding the centaur's territory?" Harry shook his head again. "It is very lucky you did."

"Amazing, too, given how hurt you were," Ron added. "Charlie said the dragon's nest was over three hundred kilometers out."

"How did you make it back?" Hermione asked quietly. "You shouldn't have been able to."

"Was trying to get to Romania," Harry replied, and his friends looked at him as though he'd gone mad. Actually, that was literally probably what they thought, given his head injury. "Hungarian Horntail. Got confused." They relaxed slightly, and Ron even smiled a little. Harry squeezed Severus' hand, locking eyes with him as he said the rest. "Back to you."

There was a split second where Harry thought he saw Severus' eyes become suspiciously shiny before he blinked, clearing away what no doubt hadn't been there in the first place.

"Whatever your motivation, I—we, we are all glad you returned," Severus replied.

"Firenze was given an Order of Merlin, First Class," Ron supplied.

Hermione frowned. "He didn't accept it, though. He said it was a wizarding medal, and meant nothing to him or his people."

"Hermione's been driving herself insane trying to decide if that's noble or foolish," Neville said with a smile.

Her frown deepened. "Like all thinking beings, centaurs ought to be regarded with the same respect offered to any wizard. Firenze especially has been more involved with the wizarding world, but—"

"Shut up," Ron said, somewhere between annoyed and affectionate. "We're all sick of hearing about it, and I doubt Harry cares. Right, mate?"

Harry shrugged apologetically. His eyes were drooping, and he didn't think he'd be able to stay awake much longer. There was something he needed to say to Severus only he wasn't sure what it was, and it definitely couldn't be said in front of his friends. He covered his confusion with an easier question. "Still your apprentice? And teaching?"

"When you are properly healed," Severus replied, sternness creeping in. "Horace is resuming his fulltime position until you are well."

Harry suspected as much. His eyes closed the rest of the way. "Love you all." He fell asleep to the sound of his friends' assenting. He heard Severus' voice mixed in but didn't have time to untangle his words before he was gone.