Work Text:
4. Pneumonia
Winter had hit Hogwarts with a vengeance, and the thick stone walls were doing near nothing to keep the cold from leaching into the halls. Harry shivered as he trudged to his last class of the day, and wished that he was curled up on the couch in front of a roaring fire in Severus’ quarters. Imagining himself wrapped in a blanket, sitting in companionable silence with Severus made tears prick at the backs of Harry’s eyes, and he sniffled and rubbed a hand through his hair, unsure about where the sudden emotion came from.
Harry’s mind kept drifting to Severus’ quarters during his history of magic lecture. Professor Binns droned on and on, and Harry’s eyes kept drifting shut, imagining the warmth of a fire and the softness of the blanket Sev kept draped over the back of the couch.
“Harry! Wake up!” Hermione jabbed Harry with her elbow and he sat up quickly, looking around to see if he was in trouble. Professor Binns was floating above his desk chair and looked the way he aways did, so Harry assumed he was in the clear. Everyone around them were packing their things to leave the classroom.
“I know you think history of magic is boring, Harry, but you ought to try and pay attention. Especially you and I, since we’re raised by muggles.” Hermione scowled at Harry for a moment before her expression softened. “Are you feeling alright?”
Harry nodded, rubbing at his eyes. “Yeah, fine.” Stuffing his text book into his bag, Harry packed up his things and stood to go up to the common room to start in on his homework. He sighed heavily when he heard Hermione running up behind him, which led to a wet cough barking out of him.
“I don’t like the sound of that cough, Harry. Maybe you should go to the hospital wing?” Hermione suggested.
“No, I’m fine, ‘Mione. I have a lot of homework to do.” Harry trudged through the halls, shivering at the winter winds whipping around the castle walls. Now that Hermione mentioned it, he realized he wasn’t feeling all that well. His head was starting to pound—but not around his scar like normal—and there was a strange tightness in his chest, like a huge snake was wrapping itself around his ribs and squeezing slowly.
“Let’s at least get some dinner before we go up, then.”
“I’m starving!” Ron piped up from where he was walking next to Harry.
“You guys go ahead, I’m not very hungry.” Harry coughed again, grimacing at the taste of the gunk he was bringing up.
“Won’t Snape get mad if you don’t eat?” Hermione asked quietly. She and Ron were aware of Harry’s guardian and the rules he enforced for Harry’s safety.
Harry stopped in the middle of the hall and tipped his head back. “Fine.” The thought of sitting in the Great Hall with all those people talking made his head feel like it was going to explode. He knew Hermione was right, Sev would get angry if Harry skipped a meal, but he really wasn’t hungry. He dragged his feet to the Great Hall and sat heavily next to Ron. His head felt too heavy to hold up, so Harry propped it up with his arm and chanced a glance up at the staff table. Sev was watching him with a frown.
Harry looked away quickly, feeling like he was in trouble, and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. He felt Sev’s presence behind him before Sev said anything.
“Potter. My office. Now,” Sev barked, turning on his heel, billowing cloak trailing behind him intimidatingly.
Harry gulped and looked over at Hermione and Ron. “Think I’m in trouble?” Harry’s heart rate was increasing at the thought.
“No, Harry, I think he wants to check in with you and see if you’re alright. You really don’t look well,” Hermione said softly. She reached out and squeezed his hand with a gentle smile.
“Good luck, mate,” Ron said with a slap on the back.
Harry stood and slung his bag over his shoulder. “See you guys later, I guess.” Harry kept his eyes downcast as he followed Sev out of the Great Hall, dread sitting like a rock in his stomach and making his gut churn unsettlingly.
Severus was waiting just around the corner for his ward. He held out a hand to stop the boy when he entered the hall that led to the dungeons.
Harry looked up at his guardian without meeting his eyes, afraid that he’d disappointed him somehow. He was surprised when he felt how gentle Sev’s hand was when he reached out and palmed Harry’s forehead, but flinched nonetheless.
“You’re burning up, Harry. Come with me.” Sev felt sadness flicker over him when he saw how Harry flinched at his touch. He led Harry to the hospital wing and held his school bag while the boy hopped up onto one of the infirmary beds. “I’ll be right back.”
Severus went into Poppy’s office, pleased to see she hadn’t gone down to dinner yet. “Mr. Potter is running quite the temperature,” Severus stated.
“Oh, dear. I’ll get my things.” Poppy grabbed a bag from beside her desk and followed Severus to Harry’s bedside. “What seems to be the problem, Mr. Potter?” She got to work casting a diagnostic charm and waited for the scroll or parchment to appear in her hand.
“Erm, I’ve got a headache. But not a scar headache.” Harry coughed into his elbow, grimacing when it brought up some icky looking phlegm that clung to his robes.
Madame Pomfrey grabbed hold of Harry’s arm and wiped the gunk up with a piece of gauze. “Hmm. Green. Anything else bothering you?” The diagnosis scroll appeared in her hand then, and she read off it. “Stage One pneumonia. High fever, chills, productive cough, headache, loss of appetite, fatigue, nausea. Sound about right?”
Harry looked down at his feet and nodded, ashamed that he’d gotten sick in the first place. He knew that he wouldn’t be punished here, now that he was in Sev’s care, but the anxiety he was experiencing was overpowering his logic. His hands began to shake and he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.
Severus drew the curtains around Harry’s bed and, once he was sure no one would see them, sat next to his ward and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s alright, Harry. You’re okay.” He pulled Harry to his chest, his heart clenching when he felt how much the boy was trembling. “Madame Pomfrey will give you a potion and you’ll be feeling right as rain by tomorrow morning.”
Madame Pomfrey smiled at Harry. “Cherry flavor, or mint, dear?”
“Cherry, please,” Harry whispered. He let himself sink into Sev’s side, taking as deep of breaths as he could without coughing as he tried to relax. The two of them sat in silence while Madame Pomfrey flitted to her office to collect the right potions, and Harry willed himself to calm down. His heart wasn’t racing as frantically as it had been before, but he still felt on edge.
“Keep taking deep breaths, you’re working yourself up again,” Severus murmured. He ran a hand up and down Harry’s back in comforting strokes. “You’re not in trouble, you’re not at fault. Everything is taken care of.”
Harry nodded, his head leaning against Sev’s shoulder as he closed his eyes and took some more deep breaths.
Madame Pomfrey came back then, carrying two vials. “Here we are,” she said with a smile. “These will have you feeling better in a few minutes, but best to take it easy for the rest of the evening. And early to bed!”
Harry nodded again, swallowing down the potions as she handed them over. He could feel the magic coursing thorough him, curing his illness and replenishing his energy. As soon as the tightness lifted from around his chest, he took a deep, full breath and let it out slowly.
“Ready to go?” Sev asked, unlooping his arms from around Harry to stand. He slung Harry’s bag over his shoulder and waited patiently until the boy stood up. “There’s much more color back in your face now. You look as though you feel better.”
Harry nodded. “Still tired, but better.”
“Well, let’s get you to bed, then.” Sev smiled down at his ward and let Harry lead the way to their quarters in the dungeons.