When the laughter stopped, Ron looked at Severus and said, "Looks like we're going to be seeing a lot of each other. We're going to the Three Broomsticks on Friday. Will you and Harry join us?"
Severus gave a grave nod and replied, "Yes."
"Don't kill us with enthusiasm there, Professor," Ron joked.
Harry held his breath, but Severus simply gave Ron a deadpan expression and answered, "I'll do my utmost to restrain myself."
Ron gave a chuckle and squeezed Harry's arm. "I've really got to run. I'll see you later. Bye, Professor."
With a nod at Severus, Ron opened the huge door and rushed inside, leaving Harry alone on the stairs with his lover.
In the weak light of the winter dawn, Harry could see that Severus' nose was turning red from the cold and dripping a little. Severus must have been waiting out here a while, possibly the entire time he was gone, he realized, touched by this often dour man's concern.
"Thank you for waiting," Harry said, stepping closer. He wanted to kiss Severus, but wasn't fool enough to do so on the front steps of Hogwarts in broad daylight.
"It was the least I could do. Is everything all right between Mr. Weasley and you?"
"It's fine. Thanks," Harry allowed himself a brief touch to Severus' sleeve.
"He seemed . . . remarkably composed," Severus commented.
Harry could hear the question underneath it. "Sometimes Ron surprises even me. Thank God."
Severus nodded, and then opened the door to the castle. Side by side, they went to meet the day.
*~*~*
There were days Severus Snape seriously considered giving up Potions and retreating to the Muggle world to raise daffodils or something equally inoffensive. Perhaps something safe like training tigers or lions. Even herding Norwegian Ridgebacks had to be less dangerous than attempting to teach wizard children Potions.
Severus took every possible safeguard imaginable. The ingredients were always up front in class to prevent the dunderheads from poisoning themselves by taking the wrong bottle from the shelf. He chose all the ingredients himself and oversaw their preparation. He watched the suicidal sociopaths like a hawk to ensure that they added the right amount of everything, and that mistakes didn't happen. And even with his hardly inconsiderable micromanaging, disasters like today still occurred.
Stephen Kerrigan wasn't quite the utter waste of space Neville Longbottom had been when it came to Potions. The boy could occasionally prepare a decent brew. However, no third year could possibly have anticipated what would occur when a Muggle cough drop was sneezed into a wart removal potion, thereby introducing eucalyptus into the brew. But, then, for all his shortcomings and all that he might have secretly desired to, Neville Longbottom had never poisoned his teacher, accidentally or otherwise, Severus reflected as he choked up the acidic, putrid remains of his lunch. As this was his third visit to the lavatory in two hours, he was slightly amazed he had anything left to bring up.
At least he'd prevented the class from inhaling the fumes. His order of "Get out, all of you, NOW!" roared as the grey smoke filled the Potions lab was instantly obeyed. The dunderheads had fled, as if for their lives, and he'd managed to contain the biohazard with a minimum of exposure. He'd immediately taken the potion necessary to transform the inhaled poison into a toxin that could be expelled by his digestive system, hence the retching.
Tomorrow morning he would add Muggle cough drops to the list of contraband items in the Potions lab. But that was tomorrow. Tonight, Severus knew that he was in for a long, unpleasant time of it.
With the thought of the word 'tonight', he remembered that he'd have to cancel with Potter. Even with the cramps and retching, he was loath to do so. They'd been together every single night of the three and a half weeks that had passed since he'd kissed Harry in the woods. Severus looked forward to the time he spent with Harry the way he'd used to anticipate his Potions class when in school.
As much as it pained him to do so, there was no way he could inflict his company upon Harry while in this state. Some superstitious part of him feared that the instant he cancelled their plans, he would lose Potter forever. Severus knew that all it would take would be a chance encounter in the local pub with a good-looking young wizard perceptive enough to understand that Potter was no danger to him, and Harry would be gone for good. But it was a Wednesday evening. It was highly improbable that Potter would go into town alone for amusement or company when he had to teach in the morning. And even if it weren't, Severus really had no choice in the matter. What was he going to do – invite Potter to come down and watch him vomit all night?
When he finally stopped heaving into the porcelain toilet, he flushed, and sat back on his heels to watch the disgusting mess circle around before being sucked into the pipes. He wiped his lips with a piece of toilet paper, staggered to the nearby sink to rinse his mouth out with water, and then made his wobbly way through the bedroom and out into his sitting room.
The white stationary with the Slytherin coat of arms was exactly where it should be in his top desk drawer. Severus removed a sheet and envelope, sat down at his desk, and picked up his quill, only to stare at the blank sheet in consternation. He didn't even know how to address a note to Potter. Dear Harry seemed trite. To Harry Potter awkward. Finally, he just wrote:
Potter:
Due to a minor incident in today's fourth period Potions class, I find myself indisposed. I regret that I will be unable to make our assignation tonight.
Severus Snape
He stared at the note a moment, added the line Perhaps we could postpone until tomorrow?, crossed it out, and then re-added it, as it was the most important portion of the missive.
As far as love letters went, it was utterly pathetic, but he wasn't a man given to gross sentimentality. Potter knew that about him.
Wishing that he had more finesse in these matters, Severus folded the note, sealed it in its envelope, and summoned a house elf.
"You is wanting Dobby, Master Snape?" the strange little creature wearing a tea towel with the Hogwarts seal on it and a pair of mismatched socks, one pink and one orange, asked in its high pitched voice as it materialized.
Snape stared at the elf. Ever since Potter and he had become involved, this creature always showed up to clean his rooms or bring him food.
Apparently, house elves liked to appoint themselves charges at the school: a rotund elf named Jibbly had been taking care of Minerva for more than thirty years, a stunted one named Grillie looked after Flitwick, the list went on, with nearly every professor or house having the same elf care for them. Except him. For the thirty years he'd been here, every time Severus summoned an elf, a different one appeared, almost as though they took turns having to wait on him. Or perhaps they drew lots and he got the loser. However, for the past month, this one had appeared consistently, and it seemed to have some type of personal relationship with Potter, were their interplay anything to go by.
That last fact that restrained him from sneering What would anyone want with Dobby? to the creature's question. The objects of Potter's affections were often quite startling, himself included. Severus didn't understand half of Potter's associations, but he was reluctant to alienate Harry with unnecessary rudeness. So instead of snapping, he simply said, "Dobby, please deliver this to Professor Potter at the teachers' table in the Great Hall. He should be there presently."
"Dobby is pleased to be bringing Harry Potter his letter," the elf replied, taking the note. "Sir is not looking so well, if master doesn't mind Dobby saying. Is Master Snape all right?"
"Master does mind and it's none of your concern," Severus couldn't stop himself from snapping.
"Oh, but it is Dobby's concern. Dobby is looking after Master Snape for Harry Potter. Dobby is promising to take good care of Professor Snape for Harry Potter."
"What?!"
"Please, sir, take some broth to make you feel better?" the elf asked. A second later a steaming bowl of light golden broth, a spoon, and napkin appeared on the desk beside Severus. "Dobby is bringing your letter now to Harry Potter," the aggravating creature said and vanished.
The house elf was looking after him for Harry Potter? What the devil did that mean?
Severus' nose twitched at the scent of the fragrant broth. It was chicken, his favourite. He stared down at the bowl. He was tempted to fling it at the place where the elf had stood, but his better sense prevailed.
The elf had a point. Lunch had been hours ago and he couldn't keep bringing up bile. Taking a deep breath, he brought a spoonful of the broth to his lips. The salty mouthful went down easily, as did the next three. He was lifting his fifth spoonful when his stomach rebelled. Clamping his hand across his mouth, he raced for the loo.
"Severus?" there was a frantic edge to the voice in his sitting room.
Although he'd keyed his floo to allow Potter unmonitored access to his chambers weeks ago, this was the first time Harry had come without an invitation. Wishing that Harry had chosen a better time, Severus finished throwing up what was left of the broth and managed a feeble, "I'll be right out," that he hoped would be heard over the sound of the flushing toilet.
Severus rose from his inelegant crouch and performed the now familiar routine of rinsing his mouth. The face that stared back at him from the mirror looked nearly as green as his dressing gown. He felt weak and shaky, barely able to stand. The last thing he wanted was for Potter to see him like this. But he pulled himself together as best he could and went out to meet his unexpected visitor.
"There you are!" Potter said. He looked so young and healthy in his jeans and red jumper that the contrast with his own potion-debilitated system made Severus feel doubly unwell. "My God! What's happened?"
Potter hurried to his side, took his arm, and all but carried him to the couch. Since Severus wasn't entirely certain he could make the distance without disgracing himself by toppling over, he allowed the assistance. Potter was an enticing warmth down his right side, the familiar presence a siren call to his shivering flesh.
"What happened?" Harry repeated once he'd gotten him seated.
"Didn't you receive my note?" Severus asked, staring down at his sheepskin slippers.
Taking a seat on the cushion next to him, Harry snorted. "Was the mention of a 'minor incident' in the Potions lab that left you 'indisposed' supposed to explain anything? My blood ran cold when I read those words. All I could think about were those spectacular explosions of Neville's. Are you all right? What exactly is wrong and how did it happen?"
"Nothing dire, I assure you. Young Kerrigan sneezed a Muggle lozenge with eucalyptus in it into a cauldron of wart remover. The eucalyptus interacted with the vervain, with predictable results." Severus sighed at Potter's blank expression. "It set off a toxic fume. I evacuated the class and vanished the contaminated potion, but not before my own clumsiness exposed me to a small dose of it."
"You mean you had to breathe," Potter translated in a strangely soft tone.
Potter's right hand reached over to smooth the sweat slick hair back from Severus' brow. Severus knew that there was no sense allowing anything to start between them tonight, but that gentle touch felt too good to refuse.
"Do you need to see Poppy?" Harry questioned.
"No, I took the necessary potion to move the poison from my lungs to my digestive system to be expelled. It will however be several hours before the vomiting stops," Severus answered. At the word 'vomit' his stomach began to churn threateningly again, as if on cue.
"Isn't there anything you can take for it?" Potter asked.
Severus sighed and somehow held onto both his temper and the contents of his stomach. "The idea is to get the poison out of me. I induced the vomiting."
Potter gave a blank, "Oh."
A minor revolution taking place inside, Severus gave a somewhat brusque, "I appreciate your dropping by to enquire after my health. As you can see, I am indisposed, but in no immediate danger. Shall we postpone our plans until tomorrow evening?" At Harry's nod, he said. "I'll see you then, then."
"You want me to go?" Potter looked and sounded hurt.
Severus was too ill to deal with this. His stomach felt like a Neville Longbottom special, just waiting for the right moment to explode. "I'm hardly fit company. What are you going to do – sit there and watch me puke -"
His sarcasm was interrupted by a humiliatingly familiar feeling. Severus' hand shot up to cover his mouth, his eyes widening in horror as he recognized he'd waited too long. He was never going to make it back to the loo. He couldn't even open his mouth to whisper a spell to summon the nearby rubbish container, for fear of what would spew immediately out of it.
Severus tried to hold it in. It wouldn't stay down. Of course, it wouldn't stay down. He'd taken Expel-It-All to ensure that the poison was cleansed from his system. But he'd never imagined that he'd do so all over his best dressing gown with his lover sitting there watching him disgrace himself.
Horrified, Severus felt the noxious stuff roar up his oesophagus. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep his lips locked just as tight, but they opened. He leaned forward and . . . expelled the latest outpouring.
To his utter shock, he didn't feel the horrible, stinking, wet heat soak through his dressing gown and nightshirt, nor did it hit his slippers. Instead, there was a strange sound of falling liquid bouncing off something solid. He opened his eyes to see the vomit hit the bottom of a white plastic bucket that Potter had obviously manifested in front of the line of fire.
Harry shifted on the couch. A moment later, Potter's blunt fingered hands reached from behind his head to pull Severus' dangling hair back and hold it out of harm's way while he continued retching.
"It's okay. You're going to be all right," Potter said from beside him as Severus continued to try to expel his stomach's lining.
