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27. “I’m sick, not stupid!”
It was the beginning of the semester and Harry smiled as he walked into the Great Hall for dinner one night. Ron and Hermione were waiting for him, and he sat between them before filling his plate. He listened to the conversations around him as he ate, and slowly began to realize that his throat was feeling little sore as he swallowed.
Sighing, Harry filled his tea cup and took a sip. Sure enough, the soreness didn’t dissipate with a drink, and he sighed again.
“Harry? What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, noticing the change in her friend’s mood.
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about the homework we have to do tonight,” Harry lied. Growing up with the Dursleys had done a number on his psyche, he knew, and he was working hard to fix himself with Severus, but it still seemed against the rules to admit to being sick in front of anyone other than Severus.
Hermione either bought the lie or let it slide, because she changed the subject and moved her focus from Harry to Ginny next to her.
Harry kept sipping his tea, wondering how he was going to get through the rest of the week with a cold. Classes were more intense this year, and Quidditch tryouts were happening soon; he really didn’t have time to be sick.
The next morning dawned bright and early, and Harry felt bone tired. He hadn’t slept well, his throat stinging all night and keeping him awake. The first class of the day was potions, which Harry was dreading. Severus was so observant that he was sure he would pick up on Harry’s cold immediately.
Harry followed Hermione and Ron down to breakfast, his head pounding with every step he took. He was exhausted, his throat still hurt when he swallowed—he couldn’t stop doing it, like playing with a wiggly tooth—and his nose was beginning to run. Deciding on something light for breakfast, Harry had toast and tea. If Hermione noticed how little he ate of the toast, she didn’t say anything, and Severus didn’t take a look at his plate from the staff table.
The walk down to the dungeons made Harry shiver, and he pulled his cloak close to him as he entered the classroom and sat at his desk.
It was only a lecture period, thankfully, so Harry didn’t have to do any lab work. Instead, he tried his best to copy down the methods for the upcoming potion brew. His nose started dripping halfway through the lesson, and Severus gave him an angry eye.
“Mr. Potter, you know how I feel about sniffling,” he snapped as a box of tissues appeared on Harry’s desk.
“I’m sick, not stupid,” Harry muttered under his breath, the Slytherin students sniggering in the corner of the room.
“Care to repeat that?” Severus asked harshly.
Harry was silent, keeping his eyes glued to his parchment.
“I thought so. As I was saying,” Severus continued, scrutinizing Harry as he walked by.
When the lesson was over, Severus called out over the din of the students gathering their bags. “Potter, stay after.”
Harry didn’t respond, but finished packing his bag and sat with his head resting on his fist. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to look at Severus until everyone else was gone; he feared that once he made eye contact he would break down in front of his guardian.
Harry’d gone from feeling bad to worse over the course of the lesson. His nose went from running occasionally to being completely blocked, his headache had only gotten worse, his throat stung, he was chilled to his core, and his left ear felt full and heavy, aching when he touched it or moved a certain way. How the symptoms had come on so suddenly, he wasn’t sure, but he was struggling.
“Care to fill me in?” Severus asked once the classroom was empty. He sat in the seat next to Harry and looked his ward over, waiting patiently for Harry to speak.
Harry cleared his throat and dared a glance at Severus. “I don’t feel well, Sev,” he whispered.
Severus frowned and slowly reached out to feel Harry’s forehead. The boy didn’t flinch, which Severus took as a step in the right direction. “You’re a little warm, but not alarmingly so. What’s bothering you?”
“My throat hurts. I’ve a headache and an ear ache. I didn’t sleep well.” Harry dropped his eyes, shutting down the part of his brain that was screaming at him to shut up, shut up, shut up! Severus was safe. He could be honest with him. It was okay. He was okay.
Severus cast a diagnostic charm and read the parchment when it appeared in his hand. “Middle ear infection, elevated temperature, nasal congestion, and post nasal drip causing a sore throat. Feeling the effects of coming back to school, are we?” It wasn’t uncommon for a cold to go around Hogwarts after the summer holiday, though Severus had managed to avoid getting it for quite a few years now. He figured his chances of avoiding it then went up in a cloud of smoke.
Harry didn’t say anything, but slowly leaned so that his head was resting on Severus’ shoulder. “I can go to the rest of my lessons, I just need a minute,” Harry said quietly. He didn’t want to seem weak. He was stronger than a little cold, he just felt so tired and vulnerable he needed a few minutes to build his walls back up.
“Nonsense. You’re going straight to your room and going to sleep. I’ll write the rest of your professors and excuse your absence. Now,” Severus said, bringing an arm up to embrace his ward. “Let’s get you comfortable. Come on.”
Harry followed Severus to their private quarters and dragged his feet all the way to bed. He was exhausted, yes, but missing classes felt wrong in the pit of his stomach. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he was well on his way to having a panic attack about it.
“Relax, Harry. Everything is okay, and no one is mad at you.” Severus could feel the boy’s anxious energy radiating from him like a fever. He stopped in the corridor and pulled Harry into a hug. “Take some deep breaths for me.”
Harry did as he was told, though they weren’t very deep because he would cough otherwise. He felt a little calmer afterward, but still was on edge.
“Go change into your sleep clothes while I gather the potions you need.” Severus watched as Harry disappeared into his bedroom and swept down to his potions store. When he returned, Harry was waiting for him at the kitchen table.
“Could I have some tea?” Harry asked skeptically. Tea always helped to calm him down.
“Of course you may. This space is just as much yours as it is mine.” Severus waved his wand and a pot of tea appeared on the table before Harry. “Drink these as well,” he instructed, setting the vials in front of the boy.
Harry did as he was told and swallowed down the potions, grimacing at the taste. He chased them with a sip of tea, and rested his head on his arm on the table.
Severus regarded Harry quietly for a minute. “How are you feeling now?”
Harry shrugged. “Having a hard time.”
Severus nodded, waiting for Harry to continue.
“Being sick is against the rules. Feels bad to break them, even if they’re not real.” He sighed, coughing a little. It was hard to explain the way his brain worked on a good day, let alone a bad one. “I know it’s stupid.”
“How you feel isn’t stupid, Harry. It was abuse. Mistreatment. Give yourself a little grace.” Severus sat across from Harry and watched the boy, his brows furrowed in worry. “You’ll feel better after you sleep. Would you like me to stay with you?”
Harry let out a shaky breath. “You don’t have to.”
“That isn’t what I asked.” Severus waited.
Sniffling, Harry nodded. “Yes, please.”
Severus smiled warmly at him. “Certainly. Come,” he said, standing and leading Harry to the sitting room. With a wave of his wand, Severus lit the fireplace and dimmed the lights in the room. He sat on the sofa and set a throw pillow in his lap, patting it when Harry didn’t move.
Harry walked haltingly to the sofa and sat next to Severus.
“Lie down, Harry. You need rest.” Severus patted the pillow again, and Harry curled on his side, resting his head on the pillow. Severus covered him in a blanket and began running his fingers through Harry’s hair, scratching at his scalp while he did so.
Harry pulled his glasses off and set them on the floor before settling in for real. He took slow, measured breaths and tried to get his heart to beat as slowly as possible. Before he knew it, he was sleeping, his head in Severus’ lap, snoring softly.
“Sleep well, my boy,” Severus whispered.