19

Chapter Nineteen

53

Harry's alarm woke him at seven. He didn't want to get out of bed. He had no idea where Severus was or what he'd be like, he had to go to breakfast where he'd be stared at, maybe more, and then the Prophet would come out and Merlin knows what Rita Skeeter will have written, and then he'd spend all day teaching students who may or may not show up. Grading from the minute his last class let out, a quick dinner, then more grading until he was done, regardless of how long it took him.

Alternatively, all of his focus was on Severus, and he didn't care about the rest. He would when it was happening, probably, but that was not now. Now he could hear Severus moving around in the living room, and that was all that really mattered.

Harry allowed himself a moment to lose himself in the memory of last night before getting up. His overnight bag was still in the living room, giving him no excuse to linger. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Severus, because he really, really did, it was just that he thought the odds of Severus acknowledging what had happened, verbally or physically, were approximately zero. Nothing ever changed, he reminded himself. Things would seem like they were going to change, and then they wouldn't. The key was to not get his hopes up.

Harry shuffled into the living room. Severus was at his desk grading and drinking a cup of coffee. He glanced up when Harry came in before returning to his papers. Harry's stomach dropped. That bit about not getting his hopes up? Harry was never good at that. He dug through his bag, realizing he'd only brought one set of teaching robes, and they had gotten quite wrinkled from spending the weekend shoved into the bottom of his bag. He retreated into the bathroom, changed, and splashed water onto his face. His reflection stared back at him, looking like a wreck. His hair was sticking out in all directions, his robes were a mess, there were deep bags under his eyes, and everything from his expression to his posture spoke of worry and unhappiness.

He squared his shoulders and lifted his head. A quick ironing spell Hermione had taught him years ago, and he no longer looked as though he had been sleeping in the woods for a week. A brief thought of Germany and Brazil, just in case. Hair aside, he looked better. Not fantastic, but better.

"Are you coming to breakfast?" he asked as he put his pajamas back into his bag. "You look busy."

"Merely managing my time well," Severus replied. The words had no effect on Harry; he had bigger things to worry about than what Severus thought of his time management skills. "The Prophet is on the coffee table."

Harry's heart squeezed. Things like that. He approached it the same way he would a bomb, carefully sneaking around the couch and slowly sneaking up on the paper. It was folded in half the wrong way so he could only see half the headline and subtitle. Feeling as though he had every right to think the paper might explode, he flipped it the rest of the way open with the tip of his wand.

OUR SAVIOR'S SECOND SCAR

The heroic conquering of a tragic curse.

A positive spin? Really? Since when did Rita Skeeter know there was such a thing? Harry picked up the paper and skimmed through the article. The headline pretty much said it all; a tortured soul struggling to become the normal boy he would never be. Years of trials and tribulations searching for a cure, all while battling Voldemort. Finally finding freedom at the hands of a former Death Eater, infamous killer of Albus Dumbledore and vindicated spy Severus Snape. Seeking absolution and redemption by committing his life to teaching the very art that cured him. If Harry hadn't been so relieved that he wasn't being lynched he would've been disgusted. There was a photograph of him mid-change, head thrown back in pain as his body lengthened.

"Did you read this?" Harry asked, tossing the paper down in shock.

"I had the misfortune of the drivel passing before my eyes, yes," Severus replied, and Harry had to bite back a hysterical laugh. He was going to be okay. He had no idea how things were going to go with Severus, but at least he wasn't going to be exiled or jailed.

"I know it's drivel, but at least it's positive drivel," Harry said cheerfully. "I know it's not going to just go away, and I absolutely hate to say it, but she has an influence and however inane she is, at least she's on my side." He glanced back down at the photograph of himself writhing in agony. "Roughly speaking. Anyway, breakfast?"

Severus waved his hand, cleaning his desk and rising gracefully. "Yes."

They left and walked down to the Hall together in silence, Harry growing progressively more nervous. The article was a lot better than it could have been, but he'd still be a lot happier if he weren't in the paper in the first place. And Severus was being quiet, though he was usually quiet, but this quiet could mean something. As expected, the Hall grew quiet when Harry entered, but conversation resumed fairly quickly. For the first time since this began there were two open seats next to each other at the High Table—of course, it would be this morning, after what happened last night, that they would sit together.

"Hey Harry," Neville said amicably, passing him the tea without being asked. "We haven't had the chance to talk and breakfast isn't the time, but know I'm on your side, yeah?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, thanks. Sorry I couldn't tell you Saturday, things were kind of—"

"No worries," Neville interrupted. He glanced around and dropped his voice. "Thanks for not mentioning me."

Harry started. It didn't occur to him that Ron, Hermione, and Neville had already known and could have gotten in as much trouble as he had. "Of course," he said quietly.

"Anyway, got any idea when you're moving back?" Neville asked in his normal voice.

Severus, who had been reaching for the maple syrup, jerked slightly, upsetting the jar. Harry's stomach was doing all sorts of strange things that didn't go well with eating, and the cleaning spell he cast came after the one Severus used, thus accidentally vanishing the syrup all together.

"Idiot," Severus muttered under his breath, summoning another jar from halfway down the table.

"Never mind," Neville said, clearly holding back a smile. "I didn't know it was such a sensitive topic."

"It's not," Harry replied quickly. "Sunday, I think. It depends on how things go. I've got forms and teaching and permission to get, but probably Sunday."

"Mm, right," Neville said. Harry shot him a furious glance, and the topic of conversation quickly changed.

Just before it was time to leave, Minerva came up behind them, interrupting a heated debate regarding the Chudley Cannons.

"Harry, good to see you survived the press," she said with a small smile.

"Yeah," he replied awkwardly. "It's, y'know. Better than it could've been."

"Indeed." She shifted, looking away from a moment before meeting his eyes. "I have just been informed of another group of—visitors to see you this afternoon. A team of Healers will be arriving from St. Mungo's after lunch to—" Her lips thinned. "They were not clear on what they will be doing, but I have been promised no harm will come to you."

Harry paled. "Um. I have classes—"

"Cancelled," she interrupted.

Once upon a time he'd known that was one of the big reasons he didn't want anyone to know, because he'd be tested and poked and prodded and examined and sampled for the rest of his life, but it had slipped his mind in the advent of general acceptance. "I, um." He swallowed. "Okay?"

"You will meet them in the infirmary, and Poppy will supervise," Minerva said. "I reminded them you are a human and a person first and foremost, but it seemed my words fell on deaf ears."

That was encouraging. "Right."

"Good luck, both with the Healers and with teaching," she said, and left.

Neville gave him a sympathetic look, and Harry turned to Severus. "Can you—?"

"If it is beyond Minerva's control then it is beyond mind," Severus replied.

"You'll be fine," Neville said helpfully. "You can always kill them with your eyes, right?"

Harry glared at him. "Not funny."

"Not incorrect," Severus added so quietly Harry could barely hear him.

It was with that thought Harry left to prepare for his first class.

54

Teaching went a lot better than expected. Given the supportive owls and the positive article Harry shouldn't have been surprised, but hardly any students didn't show up. He missed more Hufflepuffs than any other house, apparently in solidarity for their former housemates. He started each lesson asking if there were any questions so he could answer them straight from the source and then move on. There was only one particularly nasty question from a Slytherin fourth year regarding his status as the Heir of Slytherin and whether or not he thought the Dark Lord would have been proud. Harry calmly responded by asking whether the student would rather an answer, points deducted, or detention, and that ended that.

Lunch was drastically unpleasant. Granted, it was the first meal where all conversation didn't stop as soon as he entered the Hall, there were considerably less stares than before, and there wasn't one Howler, but he was too nervous to eat. He was sitting with Neville, who kept trying to get him to eat, but not even the raw chicken the elves sent up was appetizing. He managed a few bites of the chicken and a spoonful or two of soup, but other than that he stuck to chamomile tea. He left early, arriving at the hospital wing at five of one.

The Healers were already there. Poppy Pomfrey was glaring at them as they took over her infirmary, setting up contraptions Harry had no words for. One of them, a youngish blonde woman, tried to wave him over as soon as he came in but Poppy ushered him away. She told them sharply they shouldn't have arrived until quarter after one at all, and they wouldn't have access to Harry until then. She ushered him into her office, gave him more tea, and told him that they had gotten permission from the Board of Governors and that was the only reason they were allowed here. She would be there the whole time, and while he was in his Basilisk form, one tap of the tail would mean yes or that he was okay, and two would be no or stop immediately.

Harry hadn't been feeling particularly good about this in the first place, but after twenty minutes of Poppy fussing over him, he was downright terrified. When she finally let him out of her office and over to the Healers, he was almost glad they were starting so they would eventually be done. The blonde woman who had started to greet him before introduced herself as Healer Stark, and assured him that she and her team would only be performing the most basic and routine of tests. When Harry asked what routine was for a Basilisk, she pursed her lips, handed him a hospital gown, and told him to change.

It wasn't too bad at first. He had blood drawn—a lot of blood, he had to look away from the vials so he didn't get dizzy—vitals checked, gave samples of things he would rather not have given samples of, and answer a nearly infinite number of questions. He wished Severus was there to explain the finer points of the potions; he could explain most of it, but not where the idea for the bases had come from, or the exact process by which he had made modifications.

Then came the part he was dreading. First they had him change back and forth for nearly an hour while they poked, prodded, photographed, documented, took more samples, and generally annoyed the hell out of him. He also learned that, even with the Lenimen Curatio, changing started to get painful after a while. Healer Stark got huffy when he said enough, but Poppy backed him up, and eventually she relented.

He turned again so they could examine his Basilisk form. He was rather pleased by how skittish they were at first, but the novelty quickly wore off. His scales were quite tough, but the Healers were prepared. They were skittish around his fangs, but they were agile. They avoided his line of sight until they finally believed Oculus Ius worked. Harry felt like a show dog, lying still with his mouth open and body stretched as they inspected him, and it wasn't a feeling that sat well with him.

There were two near disasters. The first came when one of the Healers asked if he could take a small scale for further study. After some hesitation Harry agreed, assuming it would be like pulling out a hair—painful, but quick and harmless. That was not the case. At first he couldn't feel anything, but the line between nothing and suddenly agonizing was very small. He hissed loudly and jerked his tail away, knocking over a Healer on his other side, as well as a great deal of beds in the part of the infirmary they weren't using. Poppy started to tell them to stop, but by then the scale was half out, and it was like having a fingernail fall off: it would be better to just get it over with. He let out another agonized hiss as it was removed and vowed to never, ever do anything that could cause him to lose a scale again.

The second scare was because of an incredibly stupid Healer who tried to milk Harry's fang without warning him. He shrieked in combined surprise, pain, and violation and reared his head back. His teeth sunk into the Healer's arm, who started screaming. Poppy was at her side a second later and healed the wound with no difficulty. She had been gouged by regular, non-poisonous teeth, but by then she was in full on hysterics, and had to be taken aside and given a dose of calming draught. After that, everything they did was explained loudly, repeatedly, and in excruciating detail. Harry refused to give them any venom at all until the order for the testing from the Governors was shown to him, and even then only a few drops. Before he had felt like a dog; now he was a bloody cow.

After that they were back to poking and prodding. Then they made Harry change back and forth a few more times, each time doing identical lengthily tests in both states. Finally he was once more thoroughly examined in his natural human state.

By the time they finally left, Harry was thoroughly miserable. He had missed dinner, every bone and muscle ached, he was light headed from all the blood that had been drawn, he was covered in needle pricks and "testing goo", which he didn't understand, and generally felt like he'd been run over by a bus. Poppy gave him a few sips of Blood Replenishing Potion that helped with his color but not the dizziness, a couple drops of Dittany to help with the puncture marks, and a full dose of Pepperup. All of that helped, but he still felt like he'd been hit by a bus, just a slightly smaller bus.

Harry wasn't able to leave until quarter of eight. He thought briefly about stopping by the kitchens for some dinner before deciding he was too achy and unpleasant to walk all the way down and back up. Instead he went straight to Severus' quarters, running into him in the lab.

"There is dinner in the kitchen," Severus said.

"Ugh," Harry replied. Digesting sounded painful.

"Your Felix Felicis needs work," Severus added. "I suspended it on Sunday, but it can only be held back for so long."

Harry groaned. He glanced at the cauldron that had been softly simmering for the past week and a half. He couldn't remember what he had last done to it, let alone what came next. He shuffled over to the directions, then to the apothecary to fetch a unicorn horn to powder. Heaven forbid he use store-bought powdered horn; no, the instructions specifically said freshly powdered, so that's what he would do. He could, however, take the easy way out. He brought the horn, a sheet of plastic, and a small jar into the nearest empty classroom and changed into a Basilisk. It might have caused excruciating pain, but smashing the horn with his tail took an impossibly small fraction of the time it would take to powder as a human. He slumped back into the lab, added the horn and stirred for the requisite five minutes, and finally went into the living room.

Harry had never seen a couch look so tempting. He was also fully aware that he was still covered in goo and couldn't sit anywhere until he showered. Despite not being able to lie down, the hot water and strong pressure felt fantastic, and he almost felt okay by the time he stepped out. Then, of course, he dried off and changed into his pajamas, and once he was no longer under the stream, all of his aches and pains returned. His stomach rumbled unpleasantly and he silently told the organ to go fuck itself, bypassing dinner in favor of going straight to bed.

As soon as he was comfortable, his brain supplied him with a list of everything he should be doing instead of lying down. Eating, obviously. Grading. Going over tomorrow's lesson plans. Going to his proper room and getting a fresh set of teaching robes. Having a conversation with Severus about—

He cut the thought off. He could berate himself all he wanted for falling behind with his work but not for that. His relationship with Severus had always been defined by glacial slowness and leaving things unspoken. He might want to talk to Severus tonight but he wasn't going to, and he wasn't going to feel bad about it. Instead he was going to sleep off what the Healers had done to him and get up early to do his work. Then he remembered he had first period off and smiled. He not only didn't have to get up early but could actively sleep in, and still get his work done. Tomorrow would be good.

Quiet footsteps, and then the door opened slightly.

"Are you all right?"

"Healers is a misnomer," Harry muttered into his pillow.

A pause. "What did they do?"

"I dunno," Harry replied despondently. "Did tests. Drew blood. Made me change over and over again." He jerked up, pushing himself onto his elbows. "They tried to milk me."

Severus was making a very complicated expression, and if Harry didn't know better he thought he might be trying not to laugh. Harry gritted his teeth. He might not know better. "I am sorry."

"They had their hands in my mouth and they tried to fucking milk my venom," Harry yelled. "You couldn't possibly—I bit her, y'know. Not with my fangs or anything, she's fine, but she had her hand in my mouth because she was trying to milk me."

Severus scratched an itch just next to his nose, face twitching slightly. "That must have been very unpleasant."

He was trying not to laugh. Harry was going to kill him. "They didn't even bother to tell me! First they yanked out a fucking scale—I had to have Dittany for that, once I was a human again—and then they milked me on the Board of Governor's orders." Severus burst into laughter. Harry chucked his pillow at him, which didn't help. "You don't understand! I was like a bloody cow, like they were raping a fucking cow and their hands—stop laughing it's not funny!"

"I know," Severus choked out, a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry. You have to understand; the concept of—" He took a minute. "—milking the savior of the wizarding world is—"

"Not funny!" Harry interrupted, throwing Severus' pillow at him as well. "Now give me those back, everything hurts and I want to sleep."

Severus regained himself very quickly and handed the pillows back, coming to sit on the bed next to Harry. "I apologize, truly. Are you all right?"

"Yes," Harry muttered, curling up under the blankets again. "Lenimen Curatio is great, but it doesn't work if you have to change every two minutes for an hour straight. Plus needles and my scale and 'testing goo', whatever the hell that is. Everything hurts."

"Did Poppy give you anything?" Severus asked, brushing Harry's fringe out of his face.

For a moment Harry couldn't remember. "Yeah, uh, Dittany and Pepperup and, um, Blood Replenishing Potion for all the blood they took."

Severus frowned. "They took that much?"

"Yes," Harry said bitterly. "But it's fine. I'm not dizzy anymore and I took the potion and it's fine. Really, I'm just sore from changing so much."

"You should have called me," Severus replied sharply. "Or told me when you came back. You know I am skilled at such spells."

"Really, I'm okay," Harry insisted, trying not to show how much he liked Severus worrying over him. Also that the longer the conversation went on the more he was aware that he was in bed and Severus was sitting next to him and last night they had kissed and he would very much like to have that happen again.

"Shall I let you sleep, then?" Severus asked.

Harry's stomach twisted. "I'm mostly just lying down because everything hurts. You can stay or not."

"What would you like?"

"I want you to do what you want to do," Harry said. "You've said you need time and you should take it if you want. I'm okay either way."

"My preference would be to raise the light level and read in bed," Severus replied.

Harry smiled slightly. "That'd be fine."

"Okay, I will be right back." He rested a hand on Harry's shoulder for a moment before leaving. Harry rolled over so he'd be facing Severus, not allowing himself to think about why. He was sore and rearranging himself, that was all, and not angling for snuggling or a kiss or anything like that. Severus returned, raised the fire, and got into bed. He had changed into his pajamas. Harry was getting really frustrated with those pajamas. Severus settled himself, and Harry realized he had no idea how to ask if he could move closer because they didn't really ask, they just did.

He supposed he could just do. It was just that he had said he didn't want to be stuck with Harry's problems. On the other hand, he'd also said that he wanted Harry, and wanted Harry in his bed.

This was why Harry wished they talked.

In lieu of talking, Harry shuffled closer. Not as close as he wanted to be, but closer. What he actually wanted was to use Severus' lap as a pillow, which he had done before, but he didn't initiate physical contact, not this time. Not that Severus wasted any time in doing so. He wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, and Harry decided that putting his head on his lap would be fine, so he did. It was fine.

Harry wasn't aware he had drifted off to sleep until Severus shifted and woke him up.

"Mm, sorry," Harry mumbled, moving off his lap and rolling onto his other side.

"You were fine," Severus replied quietly. He turned and wrapped himself around Harry, who sighed contentedly. "Go back to sleep."

"Mhm," Harry said. He wasn't so asleep he wasn't aware of what he was doing, but he thought he could pretend to be that asleep. He turned his head back, hoping for something that was almost certainly not going to happen.

Instead of not happening, Severus kissed him gently. "Sleep well."

Harry found his hand and laced their fingers together. "You too."