Author's Note: I'm going through and fixing typos and redoing the formatting since the kind of scene breaks I used apparently don't work anymore O.o Hopefully there will be less typos now. :)

-SQ

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (did you honestly think I did?)

Chapter One: Down in Detention

Harry trudged toward his detention with Snape, wondering why he just couldn't keep his big mouth shut during Potions class.

He arrived at the Potions Master's door and knocked twice.

"Enter," Snape's clipped voice called from inside the room.

Harry entered. Damn it was cold in here, how could Snape stand it? Pulling his robes closer around him, Harry waited for Snape's instructions.

Severus eyed the boy with a condescending sneer as he pulled his robes around him. Did the idiot child think that would protect him from punishment?

"You will be organizing these potions for me," said Snape, indicating several cardboard boxes full of vials of all shapes and sizes. "Do not break them, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry dully, moving toward the boxes of potions. He sighed, this was going to take him all night.

Severus sat back down at his desk and continued grading essays, turning his back on The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Plague-Him.

*****CTC*****

Harry didn't know how long he'd been sitting on the stool, sorting through the seemingly endless vials of potion. His head throbbed and his limbs ached. Truthfully, he hadn't been feeling too great all day, and the cold, damp air in the dungeon wasn't helping.

Severus glanced over at the boy: He was still sitting on the stool, listlessly sorting through the boxes of potions. Glancing at the clock, Severus noticed that it was only ten minutes until curfew.

"You are dismissed, Potter," he said, making the boy jump. Severus snorted. "You will continue tomorrow at the same time."

"Yes sir," said Harry wearily, forcing his aching legs to carry him to the door.

Severus noticed that Potter seemed to be moving very stiffly. Probably not used to real work, he thought to himself, eying the young teen in distaste.

"Go on, Potter," he snapped, "I will not make excuses for you if you are caught out past

curfew."

Harry made his way up to Gryffindor Tower, dragging his feet and shivering, even though he had left the icy dungeons far behind. When he reached his dormitory, he fell into bed without so much as unlacing his trainers, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

*****CTC*****

"Are you alright, mate? You don't look so good," said Ron with concern, peering into Harry's pale face.

Harry blinked at Ron through bleary eyes.

"I'm fine," he said. "Just tired. Snape kept me late last night."

Actually, Harry felt worse than he had the night before. A headache pounded in his temples, his limbs felt like lead, and he was almost positive he was running a temperature. Luckily, though, Ron seemed to accept Harry's excuse.

"That git," he said. "What right does he have to..."

Harry tuned Ron out as he prattled on, fuming about Snape and his unfairness. Sometimes Harry was thankful that Ron was so oblivious; he feared that Hermione would not be as easy to convince.

He was right.

"Are you sure you're alright, Harry?" she asked for the hundredth time at lunch. "You look really awful. Maybe you should go to the hospital wing."

"Leaf 'im alo', 'er-my-nee," said Ron, through a mouthful of steak-and-kidney pie. He swallowed. "If he says he's alright, he's alright."

"Thanks, Ron," said Harry gratefully.

Much to Harry's relief, Hermione decided to let the matter be. But she eyed him suspiciously all through the rest of the day, while Harry did his best to look healthy.

*****CTC*****

Somehow, Harry made his way through all of his classes, and he again found himself outside of Snape's dungeon at six thirty that evening.

"Enter," said Snape's voice from inside the room when Harry knocked.

"You will be organizing the potions," said Snape once Harry had shut the door behind him, not bothering to look up from his papers.

Harry managed a faint "Yes sir," as he went to sit again on the stool.

Potter seems a lot more subdued lately, mused Severus to himself as he flipped through the fifth year essays he was grading. As usual, most of them were of an abysmal quality. Maybe all this punishment is finally getting through that thick head of his. Severus shook his head. Not likely he scoffed to himself. I bet he and his little friends are up to something. As usual.

Harry, meanwhile, was feeling more miserable by the second. His hands were shaking so much he was in constant terror of dropping a vial, and he had to stop every few seconds to cough discreetly into he elbow. He was shivering violently and every inch of him felt as though someone was stabbing him with icy hot needles. Harry's vision started to go blurry, and he tried to say something to his professor but found that he couldn't get the words out. The world tipped sickeningly. His last thought as he lost consciousness was that maybe Hermione was right and he should have gone to the hospital wing after all.

Severus was jerked out of his own thoughts by a loud crash and thump behind him.

"Potter!" he growled, spinning around, ready to berate The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Cause-Chaos for being so clumsy. What he saw, however, brought him up short.

Potter was sprawled on the floor beside the table, a potion vial smashed beside him.

"What in Merlin's name...?" said Severus, hurrying over to the prone figure of the boy.

As he got closer, Severus realized that Potter was extremely pale, though his cheeks were brilliantly flushed, and beads of sweat stood out starkly on his forehead.

Reaching down and laying his fingers against the boy's cheek, Severus swore. Potter was burning up.

Why hadn't he noticed before how ill Potter so obviously was? Severus thought as he lifted the boy gingerly onto the sofa. Thinking back, Severus realized that he had heard the boy coughing quite frequently over the last couple of hours. Again he cursed himself as he covered Potter's violently shivering form with a thick blanket and rushed to the fireplace to Floo Albus and Poppy.

*****CTC*****

Albus, who had been answering a letter from the Minister of Magic, looked up as Severus's head appeared in his fireplace.

"Yes, Severus, what is it?" the headmaster asked, laying down his quill.

"It's Potter," said Severus. His tone was one of annoyance, but he also struggled to keep something that felt very much like worry out of his voice. "He had detention with me this evening and he collapsed in my office. He's running a very high temperature and shaking uncontrollably.

A worried frown creased Albus's brow. "Severus, return to Harry at once," said the Headmaster, rising quickly from his chair. "I will alert Poppy."

Nodding brusquely, Severus disappeared from the fire with a small pop and returned to the unconscious teenager lying on his couch.

Author's Note: I stole the idea of Severus's nicknames for Harry from another fic, and I'd totally give it credit if I could remember what it was...

-SQ