Harry stared at the Mark on Snape’s arm. He’d only ever seen it once before, that night after returning from that maze. He was surprised that Snape was prepared to show it to him, of all people. Harry had to admit, if only to himself, that he’d been intensely curious about the Mark. He wondered what it was like, he felt an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch it, but he checked his arm before it even moved. Why was Snape showing it to him?

Suddenly Harry noticed the slivery scars that criss-crossed its entirety, cutting across the raw red of the lines making both the skull and the snake. So Snape cut himself too, Harry felt something at the back of his mind stir. Oddly it felt like the ‘voice’ that had been talking to him earlier, the one that sounded like Uncle Vernon and Lucius Malfoy rolled into one.

For some reason as soon as Snape had grabbed hold of him earlier it had sort of disappeared, or gone silent anyway. Now it seemed to be back, whispering vicious things that were all too true. He was disgusting and freakish. He really did deserve to die.

"Harry? Harry speak to me!"

Snape’s voice sounded odd, as if it were coming from miles away. As if coming out of a trance Harry blinked and looked up. Snape was looking at him, concern evident in his face.

"Harry, what happened?" Snape’s question seemed strained. Harry did not know how to answer, instinctively he knew that he shouldn’t tell him about the voice, only bad things would happen if he did.

"I – I don’t know," he replied hesitantly. Snape frowned and made an odd movement with his arm. Harry realised he was covering the Mark on his arm.

"So, will you promise?"

Harry stared at him confused, "Promise what?"

"To come and talk to me, if you ever feel the need to –" Snape swallowed, "to cut yourself. Do you promise?"

Harry considered the question carefully and could see no way of avoiding the answer Snape wanted him to give, so he nodded his head.

"Good. Now it is nearly lunchtime and Poppy said she would be back to check on you, so you’d better get back to bed. I doubt she would be happy to find you up an about before she said you could be." Snape smiled gently and took the bowl Harry was clutching, shield like, in front of him. Harry hadn’t even been aware of it, despite the death grip he’d been holding it in.

Harry gingerly got to his feet. The pain from his appendix scar was almost unbearable and he could not stop the deep intake of breath as the abused muscles stretched. Reflexively Harry stooped to try to relieve the pain. Snape was not oblivious to this and he made soothing noises and put a supportive arm around him as he walked him back into the bedroom.

Harry was acutely aware of the arm as they moved across the room. The voice in the back if his mind was quiet again, which was odd as it had been giving a constant, if slightly distant, diatribe ever since he’d become aware of it again. Snape’s arm felt warm and his body, despite the bathrobe, very cold. Harry could not repress the shiver this thought produced and Snape hurried their steps a little. The walk back to Harry’s bed felt incredibly long and drawn out and, at the same time, almost instantaneous. It was a weird feeling, a sort of distortion of time that was oddly familiar.

Once re-installed under the warm covers, Harry began to relax. He rested his back against the mountain of pillow behind him and felt the pain in his mid-section ease. Snape hovered for a few moments before deciding that Harry need something to occupy him and gathered the books and his unfinished homework and placed them within easy reach. The quill that had been transfigured had already reverted to its original form, Harry noticed. A wave of self-loathing and guilt rose but quickly ebbed as Harry stamped on it firmly. He would not allow himself to entertain those feelings.

Picking up Snape’s Potions text he resumed taking notes on the potions that would be studied when classes resumed. Despite a certain teacher’s attitude Harry found the subject intriguing and he was soon lost in the world of ingredients and how they reacted with each other.

~*~*~*~

Having left Harry to his homework Severus returned to his abandoned, and now totally ruined, potion to wait for Poppy to return with Harry’s next dose of painkiller and probably his lunch as well. Severus vanished the ruined mess with a flick of his wand and sent the cauldron over to the sink to be cleaned. Then he cleared the workbench and started work on a different potion; one that would not require such precision and would not be so easily ruined. The nutrient potion would have to wait until Harry was asleep.

Severus thought back to their conversation from earlier. Harry had reacted most oddly to seeing his Mark. The bond, that was still active, had reacted very strangely, in a way that Severus could not explain. It was as if Harry had distanced himself from it, even though that was supposed to be impossible.

At least Harry had agreed to the promise, but Severus knew that it had been for exactly the same reasons that he had agreed to the same promise from Albus. Severus had not meant to keep to the promise and it had taken several more incidents before he had seen the merit in the idea. He only hoped that Harry would not go to the same lengths to avoid the issue. Or put himself in the danger that Severus had. Because, despite the unfairness of it, the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ was not permitted to commit suicide, no matter how desperately he might want to at the time.

A sharp rap on the door and the appearance of Poppy’s smiling face interrupted Severus’ musings.

"How is the patient, Professor? I presume he’s awake now?"

"Yes, Harry awoke about an hour ago. He is working on his homework, so I’m sure he would not mind if you interrupted him." Severus deliberately did not mention that Harry had been out of bed, nor anything else that had occurred.

As Severus had predicted Poppy had also brought more soup for Harry, which reminded Severus to order his own lunch. Whilst he waited for it to arrive he followed Poppy in to Harry’s room.

"Yes, you’re recovering well. As I promised you can start on solid food this evening and by Monday you should be fit enough to be up and about. I’m impressed with your recuperative abilities Mr. Potter, not many people could go through what you have and be up and about so quickly." Poppy seemed almost over enthusiastic, and Harry seem to be taken aback by the Medi-witch’s manner.

"Ah, Professor, " Poppy said brightly as she noticed him, "I was just telling Mr. Potter –"

"I heard." Severus interrupted tersely, Poppy’s inordinate cheerfulness was starting to grate on even his nerves. "I’m glad that Harry is doing so well." He added as Poppy pursed her lips at his tone.

Poppy opened her mouth to say more but was stopped by the appearance of Gus, who had no doubt been alerted to Poppy’s presence and come to protect Harry from her, as he had done the previous night. Severus found it odd and slightly amusing that his familiar should act in such away, normally he only felt protective of Severus himself.

Severus watched as Harry reacted with genuine happiness towards his familiar, and felt an almost jealous pang that his familiar obviously returned the sentiment. Of course Gus wouldn’t be Gus if he didn’t also react to Poppy and he curled up defiantly in Harry’s lap.

Gus’ appearance had the welcome effect of aiding Poppy’s disappearance, and she left with alacrity, almost forgetting to leave instructions as to Harry’s care and feeding arrangements.

When Severus had closed the door on the flustered Medi-witch, he finally had enough spare mental capacity to examine the reaction of the bond with Harry. Severus could feel that Harry was… content, in a way he had not been before Poppy’s arrival. Before, Severus had been able to sense a certain agitation that was now absent. Severus had not been aware that Harry was so concerned over his health.

~*~*~*~

Harry ran his fingers idly through Gus’ fur, eliciting a loud purr from him. He felt happier than at any time since he’d woken up, and had not realised he was so worried about his health. He ate quickly and the soup seemed to warm parts of him that had become numb from the cold.

He levitated the empty bowl over to the desk on the other side of the room, but the spell felt draining, much more so than it had any right to. Obviously he still had much recovering to do.

He had now almost completed the assignments that he remembered. He wondered if Snape would know which assignments he’d forgotten. Probably not, he decided – he would have to write and ask Hermione. Thinking about his friend reminded him he had not seen Hedwig yet, and he wondered if she had survived. She had looked pretty thin and weak when she’d escaped, maybe she had not managed to get as far as Hogwarts or The Burrow. Harry made up his mind to ask Snape if there was any news. Bill would surely have mentioned it if Hedwig had turned up at The Burrow.

Sighing Harry picked up his journal from the bedside cabinet and removed the coded concealment charm from its pages. He flicked through to the end of the entries and added the day’s date, Saturday 10th August, and contemplated what to write. Obviously he would have to write about the mornings – the mornings what? Fit of depression? He had no idea how to go about describing what had happened, looking at it now it seemed a highly immature and stupid thing to do. He wondered what had possessed him to do something like that.

He wrote down these feelings and as he recounted the day so far he remembered the potion that Snape had told him about, the one that would help him ‘attain his rightful height’. Harry couldn’t help but smile at that, he had been the shortest in his year by some margin last year, something Draco Malfoy had not failed to notice, and it had made him feel more than a little vulnerable.

When he had completed his entry he lay back and allowed himself to relax. Despite sleeping for most of the morning he found his eyelids becoming heavy and he quickly sank into a deep, healing and, above all, dreamless sleep.

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