The Reverse Aging Potion

Severus deliberately took a moment longer in the kitchen than would really have been necessary to make the tea. Having Harry and Draco together in his sitting room was turning out to be not quite so simple after all.

And Harry was less the problem. It was Draco who simply couldn't hold back with his snide comments, even though he'd really had long enough to get used to the idea that Harry was a part of his life, and thus sooner or later also a part of Draco's life, if he didn't want to avoid Severus in future.

He had believed that once the two of them met on a professional level for a while, it would help. After all, unlike them, Draco didn't live in the castle, where he had moved into his flat with Harry at the start of the school year. And the teachers didn't have all that much to do with the medical staff either. On the other hand, perhaps more contact over these past eight weeks would have been better, so that Draco could have vented his frustration earlier? But it really was ridiculous that Draco even had to tease Harry about what he was drinking.

Perhaps Severus was simply too old for this nonsense. He shook his head as he pulled the tea strainer from the pot and was about to return to the sitting room with the finished tea when he heard a soft bang from next door, followed by a scream that was enough to make him leave the stupid tea and hurry next door, already with a reprimand on his lips that the two of them should at least leave his sitting room intact, when he stopped abruptly. At first he couldn't process what he was seeing at all. Draco was sitting in the armchair looking rather self-satisfied, whilst Harry... well. He was basically still sitting in his place on the sofa, except that Harry was...

It was the tears on the pale cheeks that made him move, to crouch down gently in front of the boy.

"Harry?"

Huge, tear-filled eyes turned towards him. The boy, perhaps seven years old, sat on the sofa completely insecure and frightened, half buried by the now far too large clothes.

"Don't make such a fuss, Potter. It's only a joke," Draco made himself heard. Severus ignored him; Harry's gaze darted worriedly in his direction.

"Do you recognise me?" he asked him quietly. Harry nodded gently, his arms wrapped around his far too thin torso. "Do you know where you are?" Without moving his head, he looked around.

"Come on, Sev. He shouldn't make such a fuss!" Draco insisted from the side.

Harry seemed to come to the conclusion that he knew the flat very well, that he knew Severus, and that he still trusted Severus, because very slowly and hesitantly he stretched his arms out towards him. Severus met him in the movement and carefully drew him onto his lap. In the process Harry lost the far too large trousers, and Severus made sure that at least the oversized shirt covered him well before he slowly turned to Draco. That he hadn't yet torn his head from his shoulders was solely and exclusively due to his concern for Harry.

"Don't look at me as though you want to eat me, that doesn't work on me!"

Contrary to his words, Draco had gone rather pale and had straightened up in his armchair.

"What did you give him?" Severus asked dangerously quietly.

"Reverse Ageing Potion." He waved dismissively.

"Did you leave out the scarab beetle dust?" Draco looked at him as though he were asking him about the latest Muggle technology. "And that's why you're a Healer and not a Potions Master, you fool," he hissed, which made Harry make himself even smaller against his chest. He clung almost painfully to Severus's neck.

"I don't understand... it was only a joke," Draco repeated, now uncertain after all. "The effect should wear off straight away."

"Ageing Potion ages everything on and in a person's body, Draco. Including the brain, which isn't a problem with a normal Ageing Potion. You've crammed Harry with all his memories and experiences into the brain of a seven-year-old!"

Draco only blinked uselessly at him, and Severus decided that he'd better throw him out now before he ended up wringing his neck after all.

"Go... and heaven help you if the effect doesn't wear off soon. If not, you will explain to Minerva why Harry can't teach the day after tomorrow!"

That Draco didn't leave a cloud of dust in his wake was probably solely due to Severus's pronounced obsession with tidiness.

"It's all right, Harry," he said more gently and pushed himself up onto the sofa, pulling Harry more securely onto his lap. "Don't be afraid." He couldn't even begin to imagine how confused and terrible everything in Harry's head must be right now. Even as an adult he only managed to cope with all the things he'd experienced to a limited extent. How was a seven-year-old supposed to be able to bear that?

Draco had put them in an impossible situation. If the effect didn't wear off quickly, as Draco assumed, he really ought to take Harry to St Mungo's. Since it was clear that Severus, as a Potions Master, wouldn't administer such rubbish to Harry, the question of who it had been instead would certainly not be long in coming, and then Draco could forget not only his position at Hogwarts but his entire licence to practise. Injuring another person so negligently went against all principles of Healers, even in the wizarding world.

"Are you angry?" Harry whispered at his neck, his voice quite thin and uncertain.

"Not with you," he assured him. Merlin, as if the situation weren't already complicated enough... behind this was also Harry's very own hell of a childhood. Because his little brain probably couldn't cope with all of that, it would be hardly surprising if it fell back on what it knew and could process. He had to be careful not to trigger anything.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he agreed. "Draco hurt you. He's not allowed to do that." Even if his 'joke' should work and wear off straight away, Severus would be angry with him. Harry actually froze as though it were inconceivable that someone shouldn't be allowed to hurt him, and Severus sighed silently. Who would have thought that he would someday be glad that they had worked through Harry's childhood trauma together? That way he had an approximate picture of the whole situation. Of how and why Harry reacted.

He rubbed over the far too thin back. Yet another problem with this considerably younger body—it had already been badly mistreated back then. And even though Harry might have survived it once before, this was something that Severus personally found very difficult to bear.

"Will you show me your arm?" he asked gently and, with Harry's help, detached his left arm from himself, pushing up the wide sleeve and basically half the shirt a bit. Harry—his Harry—really wasn't built large and strong, but the small version of him would certainly have fitted into the garment five times over, which left half his upper arm exposed at the collar. Basically, Draco had accomplished a masterpiece. The scars on Harry's arm, which even Severus had never been able to completely remove with his best salves, had all disappeared. This body simply hadn't received them yet. But that confirmed his previous theories.

"That's lovely," Harry whispered, watching very attentively as Severus stroked his hand over his arm. As he did so, he squinted slightly. Severus gently pulled the new glasses from his head, which must still be far too strong for his eyes, and set them aside.

"The stroking, you mean?"

"Mhm," he said and wiped his free hand across his face to get rid of the lingering tears.

"Harry... do you know what happened?" he asked, now stroking his arms and shoulders with both hands. If he liked it, hopefully it would also calm him down a bit. Severus couldn't necessarily handle children well. He found it exceedingly exhausting. If Harry cooperated well, it would help him.

"I don't know exactly..." He bit his lower lip, almost as though he now expected a scolding for it. Probably he did. "I..."

"It's all right. Don't try to remember," he asked him. There was too much rubbish he would find. His subconscious was certainly helping out nicely, pushing everything he couldn't bear far away from him. But that didn't mean it wasn't there. If he concentrated on it, he could call it to mind, and that didn't need to happen at the moment. "As long as you know where you are, who I am, and you're not afraid, that's enough for the moment."

Harry licked his lips and then shook his head.

"I'm not afraid," he promised him, though he looked rather brave. On the other hand, he probably hadn't first become a Gryffindor on the day he came to Hogwarts.

"Good." He stroked tenderly through his hair. He knew that this gesture pleased adult Harry, and it made the younger one close his eyes in enjoyment as well. "What shall we do with you now, hmm?" He tugged at the oversized sleeve. "Perhaps we'll give you something better to wear first." By now ten minutes had surely passed, perhaps more. The effect of the potion could wear off at any moment... or not.

Harry didn't seem sure whether he was allowed to say anything about this or not, so Severus simply kept the initiative, that suited him better anyway. He carefully set Harry down from his lap and then took his hand. Merlin, he really was small. Was he even seven yet? He banished the thought and collected Harry's trousers and underwear, which lay ownerless on the floor, before taking him into the bedroom. Here, of course, nothing fitted him either, but Severus took a fresh t-shirt from the wardrobe—it annoyed him incredibly that he hadn't managed to persuade Harry to wear nothing but proper shirts!—and finally charmed it, the trousers and underpants until they were shrunk enough that they would probably fit Harry.

He watched this with wide eyes and seemed to need to work out first whether he could make anything of it, before a very delicate smile crept onto his lips.

“Magic,” he breathed, only to flinch immediately afterwards, as though he had just remembered he wasn’t allowed to say that. But no one rebuked him, and so he was able to calm down again.
“That’s right. I’m a wizard.” He watched Harry very closely, but for the moment, that fact did not seem to be associated with anything bad. “Come on, get dressed.”

He helped him pull the far too large shirt over his head, even though Harry was clearly embarrassed about being completely naked and turned away from Severus quite pointedly, which was really rather ridiculous, but he let him be. Besides, the scars on the narrow back distracted him anyway. Had it started that early?

They had talked about it, but Harry had never said in detail when exactly what had happened, had kept it rather general, and Severus had assumed that things had only truly become bad once he was older and his magic manifested more frequently.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked in passing, just as Harry was pulling on his trousers and immediately slipped into the shirt.

“No,” Harry answered, seemingly confused by the question. And that was precisely why Severus could not be sure whether it was true.

“Very well. Are you hungry?”

Harry drew in his narrow shoulders and glanced around cautiously.

“No one here will hurt you. You’re safe here, Harry. And no one is going to forbid you from eating or anything else.” Severus could still remember well what it was like when there was nothing to eat, when there was simply nothing there and no one bought anything… or could buy anything. What it must be like to simply not be given anything to eat, even though everyone around him ate quite normally, he could hardly imagine.

“A little,” he replied, hesitantly.

“Then we should get something to eat.” Severus got to his feet and once more held out his hand to him. They had eaten earlier, but he did not know to what extent the potion affected such things. There was no known science behind it. The potion might have taken his body and simply rejuvenated it – which, given the absence of scars, was evidently not the case – or it might truly have set his body back to an indeterminate point in time. Perhaps to an exact moment that had once existed, perhaps not. Severus did not know, and he hoped that Harry would not remain like this long enough for them to have to find out.

He led him into the small kitchen of their flat and made him pancakes. All children liked pancakes, after all—Harry himself still liked them very much even as an adult—and he did not assume the boy would be able to tell him what he wanted to eat. Besides, it was quick, so he would not have to wait long.

The boy ate very quietly and neatly, and so that he would not feel awkward, Severus ate a little as well. It all passed in near silence; Harry merely looked around attentively, as though he had to compare every single object in the kitchen with his memories and turn it into a new one, until his gaze eventually fell upon the painted picture above the counter that Luna Lovegood had given him for his birthday a few years ago. She had drawn Harry, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, herself, Neville Longbottom and little Ginny Weasley—the group who had been at the Ministry together many years ago. A picture Harry was very fond of, and which he had insisted be brought here from the house.

“They’re friends,” he observed with a smile, looking genuinely happy.

“Your friends, that’s right.” Severus watched him closely once more.

“Do I look like that?” he asked curiously, pointing at the picture.

“No. That’s what you looked like when you were about sixteen.” Luna had an excellent, almost photographic memory—she had painted the picture years later, but anyone who had known Harry at the time recognised him at once.

“And how old am I now?”

“Right now? Seven or so. But really, you’re twenty-four.”

“That’s old,” he said in surprise, and Severus pursed his lips. Well, thank you very much. Harry placed his cutlery neatly onto his plate. “Do you have a stool for washing up? I can’t reach,” he explained, gesturing towards the sink.

“You don’t have to wash up.” That was something he could hardly get out of the adult Harry either. The moment the plates were empty, he felt the urge to spring up and put everything in order.

Harry looked at him doubtfully.

“So… I won’t get into trouble?” he asked, confused.

“No. You won’t get into trouble here. Well, unless you do something you shouldn’t. But then I’ll tell you. I won’t get angry.” At least, he would do his utmost not to.

He glanced at the grandfather clock. One hour. No change. He was going to kill Draco.

“I can still wash up,” Harry decided after a moment’s thought.

“You could, but I’ll do it today.” Especially since Harry let out a wide yawn at that very moment. Of course—Draco had only come by around eight, and by now it was half past nine in the evening. For a child his age, that was surely already quite late.

Severus flicked his wand, and at once the used dishes and cutlery hopped over to the sink and cleaned themselves before neatly arranging themselves back into the cupboards. Harry watched with wide eyes and an open mouth. It was almost adorable.

“Woah,” he murmured softly. “That was cool,” he added, thoroughly impressed.

“Thank you,” Severus replied dryly. “I think it is time for bed now. Will you go to the bathroom? I’ll shrink you a set of pyjamas.”

“Can I watch?” he asked, and although he clearly tried to sound careful, his excitement won out.

“Yes. Then you can take them with you straight away.” They might as well combine the two. He got to his feet and led him back into the bedroom, where he transfigured a pair of pyjamas Harry hardly wore anyway. Harry watched with a smile before taking them politely and setting off without a second thought. Yes, he still knew his way around the flat. His memories were there—just… not particularly active.

Severus glanced around the bedroom. But children did not really need anything adults did not have as well, did they? He was tall enough to get into the bed, and that was what mattered most. Severus would not take his eyes off him anyway, if only in case the potion wore off and caused complications.

Accordingly, he simply changed as well.

“I can’t brush my teeth,” Harry announced shyly from the doorway. “It’s too high.”

Severus rubbed a hand over his forehead. So much for that. Why were children so complicated? He nodded and followed him into the bathroom, where Harry had presumably already struggled with the high sink. This time, he conjured the stool Harry had asked for earlier, and Severus simply brushed his teeth right beside him, so that they finished together and could return to the bedroom, where Harry regarded the bed uncertainly.

“What is it?” Severus asked.

“I don’t know where I’m sleeping,” Harry replied uneasily, beginning to look around the room. Severus drew a deep breath. Yes. He had rather hoped never to have to deal with this again—there was always the risk that he would end up in Azkaban because he accidentally killed a few Muggles.

“You’re sleeping in my bed. No cupboards,” he decided. Harry frowned, his small brow furrowing as he looked rather uncertain.

“I don’t know if that’s alright,” he explained.

“Why shouldn’t it be?”

“You don’t sleep in someone else’s bed.”

“But I would be glad if you slept with me.” Could they please stop discussing this?

Harry’s expression brightened, however, and he nodded.

“Then it must be alright.”

“I think so too. Come.” He pulled back the covers for him, and Harry climbed in before he followed. He slipped in behind him and carefully wrapped an arm around him, but now that they were in bed, Harry’s usual need for closeness seemed to return. He clung to Severus like a little monkey—only even smaller than usual.

“Good night, Harry,” he murmured.

“Good night,” Harry replied sleepily and buried his face against Severus’s chest. One advantage compared to the older Harry: he fell asleep almost immediately. No lying awake, no tossing and turning, no staring into the darkness.

In contrast to Harry, Severus did not get a wink of sleep. He lay awake, racking his brain for a solution while still waiting for Harry to simply grow older again—to no avail. It was still clear that he could not take Harry to St Mungo's Hospital, but he needed to be examined. At least then Draco could help fix what he had caused.

Before his waking charm could startle Harry, he roused him gently and sent him to the bathroom first. He was probably lucky that the boy had been raised by Petunia and her husband to be absolutely obedient and only questioned things when they deviated from what he knew. If Harry had been a difficult, unwilling child, they would have run into problems. As it was, they were able to sit down at the breakfast table together barely twenty minutes later.

“We’re going up to the hospital wing in a moment,” he explained to Harry once he had allowed him to help himself. “We’ll have you examined there, so we can find out how to make you older again.”

Harry looked at him as he chewed. His small brow was deeply furrowed, and when he finally nodded, Severus was not entirely sure he truly understood what was going on. When they eventually stood in front of the fireplace, however, they had quite a different problem.

“I don’t like that,” Harry whispered as Severus reached for the Floo powder, wrapping his arms around himself. He seemed genuinely distressed at the prospect of using it. Of course, Severus knew that the older Harry did not like travelling that way either, but he had never realised just how much it troubled him.

“Alright? But then we’ll have to walk through the entire school,” he pointed out.

“I like the school,” Harry said, looking a little more at ease again. Severus did not doubt that—but how he would feel when the students saw him like this…

“Very well, then come.” He took his hand again and led him out of the dungeons and upstairs. Naturally, they encountered various students along the way, all of whom watched them with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. Of course, it was not unusual at school to see other students who had had spells go wrong, but it was rather less common when it concerned a teacher. At least he had dressed Harry properly—he was very glad of that now.

Fortunately, there were no students in the hospital wing at the moment, so they had some peace. However, Harry cast Draco a single glance before practically disappearing beneath Severus’s cloak, pressing his face against his hip to hide.

“Well done,” Severus growled at his godson, who looked terribly pale. He spared himself the question of whether Harry had still not changed back. “Harry… Draco needs to examine you,” he tried, addressing the boy, who clung to him as tightly as he could.

“He’ll hurt me,” Harry whispered desperately. Severus’s gaze, meanwhile, practically skewered Draco Malfoy, who shifted uneasily.

“I, er… I can fetch Poppy,” Draco muttered, hesitant.

“And why are you still standing here?”

Draco had already thrown Floo powder into the fireplace and disappeared.

“Come, Harry,” Severus said quietly, gently pulling him out from beneath his cloak by the shoulders. Harry made quite certain that Draco was truly gone before allowing it, letting Severus guide him onto one of the hospital beds. He brushed the hair back softly from the little one, who looked thoroughly shaken. “You don’t have to be afraid, not even of Draco. I’m here, after all, so no one can hurt you,” he told him seriously.

“But he doesn’t like me,” Harry whispered sadly.

Severus let out a quiet breath. Well… that was not even untrue, unfortunately. And no matter how much effort Severus put into making Draco understand that he had to accept Harry, damn it… it was not truly improving. He rubbed Harry’s shoulder soothingly until the fireplace flared up and Poppy was expelled from the flames. Draco followed her, but at least withdrew immediately so as not to upset Harry further.

“I know you,” Harry said at once, much more cheerful as he recognised Poppy Pomfrey, whom he liked and trusted.

“So his memories are intact,” Poppy’s concerned greeting came as she stepped over to them. Her wand was already in her hand. “And how are you feeling?” she asked while examining him.

“Mm… strange,” Harry murmured. “It hurts… here, sort of,” he explained, gesturing to the side of the back of his head. So much for him not being in pain. At least Severus could probably count himself lucky that Harry had not run away from him screaming.

“And what else feels strange?” Poppy pressed gently.

“Don’t know… just strange,” he said, lifting his narrow shoulders slightly and rubbing his upper arms.

“Mhm,” Poppy hummed quietly, performing a few more spells. “Will you stay sitting here for a moment?” she asked him. “I need to speak to Severus briefly in my office,” she explained kindly. Harry looked around attentively, noted that no one else was there, and then nodded.

“Alright, I’ll stay here,” he promised, allowing Severus to follow Poppy into the adjoining room.

“Well?” he prompted.

“He needs to be older again urgently. At the moment he’s still too disoriented, but his memories will resurface,” she warned seriously. “I can’t help you… you’ll have to brew something to reverse the effect. Anything I could do might, in the worst case, make his condition worse. All I can do is ease the strain on his mind a little.”

Severus let out a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Will you report Draco?” he asked quietly.

“That’s up to Harry. Officially, I’m not even here, and since this doesn’t concern a student…”

Severus nodded, at least somewhat grateful.

“I’ll take him straight to the laboratory. Is there anything I need to watch out for if this can’t be resolved quickly?” he asked, sceptical.

“Use your common sense. Make sure he drinks enough and eats regularly, and let him sleep when he’s tired.” She lifted her hands slightly. “If he feels unwell in any way, contact me and I’ll come at once—if he still won’t let Draco treat him.”

“Thank you, Poppy.”

“Can you sit here and keep yourself busy drawing?” Severus asked, unsure whether that would work. He had taken Harry with him into the laboratory and set him down on the free side of the workbench he would not need.

“Okay,” Harry agreed. “What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

“Brewing a potion that will hopefully help you,” he replied calmly, already adjusting his scales.

“So I won’t feel strange anymore?” Poppy had removed his headache for the moment, but the odd sensation had not gone away. He could not really describe it either, but Severus assumed that, on some level, he simply knew that his current body did not belong to him and therefore felt wrong.

“Exactly. And so that you’ll be an adult again.”

“Mm… why? Is it bad, like this?” he asked, looking down at himself.

“Because I would miss the older Harry very much if he didn’t come back.” To put it simply—and honestly.

“Oh… so you like him more than me?” he asked, his brow scrunching up.

Severus focused on his work for a moment, but of course Harry did not simply let the question drop.

“I simply like him very much. And it would be bad for you as well if you stayed like this. Your head would soon start to hurt far more than it did earlier.” If only that were the only problem…

“Mhm… alright,” Harry murmured, turning to the drawing supplies, allowing Severus to finally concentrate on his task.

In theory, it ought to be simple to reverse the effect. He had obtained the exact recipe from Draco. The problem was that he could not perform a test run. Harry would have to swallow the antidote, and then they would see what happened. The risk of deformities during the reversal could not be entirely ruled out—there were good reasons why bodily transformations were generally forbidden—and in the worst case, his mind might remain at its current state.

He would have to account for a great many variables and still produce a coherent, stable, non-toxic potion from it all.

Fortunately, Harry was able to occupy himself quietly for hours, but of course Severus had to interrupt for lunch and later for supper. The little one could clearly not afford to skip meals, and by around nine the yawning began. Brilliant. It felt as though he had not made a single step forward in all that time. He rubbed a hand over his strained features, but in the end came to the conclusion that it would be sensible to go to bed. Harry certainly needed the rest, and perhaps his own mind would function better if he did not spend a second night in a row without sleep.

By now, he had truly abandoned any hope that the potion’s effects would wear off on their own. It was surely not a truly permanent effect—at some point, the components would break down in Harry’s body. But unfortunately, that would happen gradually, and the consequences were impossible to predict.

Still, he had to admit that little Harry was somehow… adorable. And when he snuggled up against Severus in bed once more, wrapping his small arms tightly around him and whispering, “I love you”, Severus very nearly died—if only just a little—of heartache.

Harry told him every evening, when they went to bed, that he loved him. He also hardly ever said “good night”, but always ended the day with the words “see you tomorrow”. When Severus had once asked him why, Harry had simply said that he was already looking forward to seeing Severus again in the morning, and as for having a good night—well, that went without saying. After all, they were together.

Severus had found that terribly silly. But now, with it simply missing? He let out a deep breath and held the boy close in his arms.

They spent an entire additional day in the laboratory, aside from meals. Harry did not seem to enjoy drawing at all, for he had long since stopped using the supplies and instead spent the entire time watching Severus. Fortunately, he kept quiet while doing so, allowing Severus to tune him out.

He had pursued two different approaches, and now, late in the evening—Harry had been yawning for quite some time—he had two finished potions standing before him. One was a vivid, poisonous green, the other a murky orange. But which one should he give to Harry?

“That looks funny,” Harry whispered, watching the small bubbles rising in the green potion. “What are we going to do with it?” He seemed to understand that Severus was finished—but uncertain.

“You’ll have to drink one of them,” he explained.

“Okay… and which one?”

And that was the question, damn it. He was certain that both would reverse Harry’s condition. But each came with its own advantages and disadvantages.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Harry tilted his head and examined the two glasses.

“I’ll take the green one!” he decided, already reaching for it, but Severus caught his hand.

“Why the green one?” he asked wearily.

“Because it looks nicer.”

Well. That was certainly the most scientific reasoning Severus had ever heard in his life.

“The green one will give you stomach aches,” Severus muttered, displeased. Harry frowned.

“And the other one?”

Severus hesitated. In principle, the green one was indeed better. The cramps would likely be quite severe and would certainly last throughout the night. The orange potion, however, might leave him incapacitated for days—though without real pain. Still, Severus trusted the effect of the green potion more.

He drew his wand and flicked it through the air.

“Mark us both ill for the morning,” he instructed Draco, who would undoubtedly receive the message. Then he turned back to Harry. “We’ll take the green one—but we’ll go to the bedroom first,” he decided.

“Will you get stomach aches too?” Harry asked him worriedly, which was rather sweet. He ought to be worrying about himself.

“No, but I’ll stay with you.” It was as simple as that. And since this would probably be his first sick day in the entire history of his career, he could not care less. He left the orange potion behind, just in case, and instead took the green one, taking Harry’s other hand as they returned to the flat.

In the bedroom, he put Harry into one of his ordinary shirts, which the boy did not complain about, even if he had to clamber into bed somewhat awkwardly to avoid getting tangled in it.

Severus followed him, remaining seated beside him, watching closely as Harry drank the bitter potion, sip by sip. The small face twisted rather dramatically, and he shuddered more than once, but he forced himself to finish it to the last drop without complaining.

“Bleurgh,” he made afterwards, giving a full-body shiver.

“You did well,” Severus praised, taking the glass from him and setting it aside before shifting further down into the bed. “Come here, Harry,” he coaxed, opening his arms. He did not have to say that twice—no more than with the older Harry. The child was already pressed against his chest, and he drew the covers over both of them.

It did not take even a minute before the little one curled in on himself, and Severus gently rocked him, soothingly rubbing a hand over his stomach. It probably did not help at all—but perhaps it offered him at least a small measure of comfort.

The faint, barely audible whimper that escaped him truly broke Severus’s heart. He had tried to ignore it as best he could the entire time, but so many of his behaviours pointed to just how terrible his childhood had been. What kind of child that young would consciously try to suppress sounds of pain, hm? Harry did. He still did it even as an adult, and if in doubt, he simply would not mention it at all.

Severus knew that at the beginning of the school year he had once fallen down a staircase and badly injured himself. He had never told Severus; it had slipped out of Poppy at some point. Now, without Poppy at the school and with Draco in the hospital wing, Severus had to fear that in such a situation he would manage as best he could on his own—and endure the rest in silence. They would have to talk about that, once Harry was receptive again. In truth, they should have done so long ago.

He rocked him ever so gently.

“Shh… it will pass,” he promised—and finally, finally, he could feel the change. Unfortunately, the reversal did not happen as abruptly as the effect of Draco’s potion had set in, and Severus suspected that this rapid growth was more than painful enough. But Harry only pressed his face against Severus’s chest and endured whatever was happening to him. “Nearly there,” he murmured again and again, tense. Merlin, how long could this possibly take? Harry was not that tall.

Harry gasped repeatedly and tensed severely. He was sweating excessively and clung to Severus almost painfully tight. It must have taken a good half hour before his size finally stopped changing, but his posture remained tense and curled in on itself. Severus pulled him close again and wrapped himself around him as best he could.

“I love you,” he whispered hoarsely, continuing to stroke his neck again and again.

He held him like that the entire night, stroking him, rocking him gently, awake—because the pain would not let Harry sleep either. Only in the early hours of the morning did Harry gradually begin to relax, finally abandoning his tightly curled posture and settling more comfortably against Severus.

“Thank you,” he whispered close to Severus’s ear. He sounded utterly exhausted and dangerously close to tears. Severus gave him a light squeeze, until he felt the tremors running through the other body and wrapped himself tightly around him again.

“Shh… Harry.” He had meant to sound soothing, but he could hear it himself—that he sounded more affected than anything else. “It’s over,” he promised instead.

“Why does he hate me so much?” Harry asked in a very thin voice. Severus let out a quiet breath. Well…

“He… only wanted to give you a small fright,” he murmured. “He never meant for you to stay like that… not that it makes it any better.” But that seemed to pass Harry by.

Harry said nothing in response. He merely clutched at Severus’s shirt and buried himself further against his chest, where Severus could at least promise him absolute safety. Harry’s breathing gradually calmed, and eventually the exhaustion caught up with him, allowing Severus to grant himself some rest as well and finally close his eyes.

A few hours later, bright daylight was already streaming through the small windows in the bedroom. Severus had woken because Harry was trembling in his arms. He gently brushed the hair from his forehead and realised that Harry was not dreaming, but already awake.

At last… at last, it was the adult features he was looking at again.

“Am I really myself again?” he asked, almost in a whisper.

“We’re about to find out,” Severus promised, loosening his hold just enough to sit up and draw his wand. Harry followed suit almost cautiously, looking down at himself uncertainly and studying his hands. Severus examined him as best he could and, for the moment, found nothing alarming. The scars were back, in the same state as before. “How do you feel?” he asked quietly, lifting a hand to trace gently along his jaw.

“A bit strange… and shaky.” He held his hands out flat, and they were indeed trembling quite noticeably.

“The reversal has taken everything out of your body. Breakfast should help. What about your head?”

For the first time, Harry truly lifted his gaze to him, studying him more closely—though at least he seemed to be thinking.

“Completely mad, as always,” he sighed at last.

“Do you remember everything?”

“Yeah… unfortunately.” He gave a small shudder. “Thank you for looking after me.” He reached for Severus’s hand, who immediately returned the pressure.

“Of course. I hope… the way I treated you was alright.” He was still rather unsure about that.

“Are you joking? I ought to slip you some adoption papers straight away. For someone who always claims he can’t handle children, that was pretty good,” Harry replied. He still sounded exhausted, but far more like himself again.

“Let’s not get carried away. You were, fortunately, very uncomplicated. Even so… this short time has opened my eyes quite a bit.”

Harry, who had just lowered his gaze again tiredly, now looked up at him more cautiously.

“And that… means?”

“You don’t tell me things. For instance, that you truly hate travelling by Floo.”

Harry swallowed visibly and lifted his shoulders in a small shrug.

“It doesn’t change anything, does it? I don’t die from it, and it’s over quickly in the end. It’s just a moment of pushing through, that’s all. Don’t read too much into it,” he asked, squeezing his hand again.

Severus was, admittedly, not entirely satisfied with that, but in future he would simply avoid using the Floo with him.

“And Draco?”

Harry looked away from him again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I truly have no idea what you think you have to apologise for,” Severus replied curtly. “My question is whether you will allow him to treat you in the future… even if I am not conveniently standing beside you to tell you that you must be treated.”

Harry let out a deep breath.

“Look… I know he matters to you, and I really tried—”

He broke off when Severus gently pulled him closer.

“Please stop apologising for his stupidity,” he said quietly. “You’re my partner. If Draco can’t accept that, then that’s his problem,” he stated firmly.

Harry, half lying in his arms, leaning somehow against his shoulder, looked up at him with a sad expression.

“I’m only concerned about your health. I understand if you don’t have enough trust in Draco to let him treat you—that’s his own fault. But then I have to insist that you tell me when you’re hurt—even if it’s nothing serious—so that we can find other options. That would be a perfectly acceptable solution for me.”

Harry let out a quiet breath and rested his cheek against his shoulder.

“Why is he like that? I really thought we were… past that.”

Severus gently brushed his hair back.

“He simply doesn’t like you, and he is very poor at restraining himself when it comes to that. He knows it affects his relationship with me, but if that isn’t enough for him to behave for even an hour, then so be it. Perhaps he will apologise to us someday. Perhaps not. But never doubt that you matter more to me than he does.”

That had not been true for a very, very long time. Harry was the centre of his life now—and nothing would change that.

Harry was clearly not satisfied with that answer, but at least he pushed himself up onto his knees and wrapped his arms around Severus properly, pulling him into a real embrace.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

Severus held him tightly.

“Come. Let’s eat something and rest afterwards. Everything else can wait until later. And it will give me time to be sufficiently certain that you truly are yourself again.”

Harry gave a crooked smile.

“Wait until the sugar floods my system. Then I’ll be completely back to normal,” he promised, before pressing a soft kiss to Severus’s lips.

THE END