Note From The New Author: Hey everyone. My name is Princess-Meru. This story is originally by CottonTail. She has written a great number of the chapters. We will let you know where she stopped and we (my team of lazy authors) begin. I hope you enjoy (because this is the only fanfic you will EVER see on my account above PG-13).

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters portrayed are not mine. I make no profit from this.

WARNING:

Also, this is going to turn into slash (Harry/Severus)… with luck. Or, this could easily join all the other unfinished HP fiction that is out there.

"Lie still, Potter!"

Nausea, sharp pain, lightheaded.

Thirst. Harry couldn't recall ever being this thirsty before in his life.

He tried turning his head, forcing his eyes to open. The nausea won out over thirst and whatever contents were in his stomach made a valiant effort to rise.

"Don't move him!" A sharp, all too familiar voice snarled in a half whisper.

"Professor, he's going to be sick."

"Trust me Miss Granger. There is nothing left in there for him to puke up."

Harry groaned, tried again to open his eyes, only to be rewarded with too much brightness.

"I said, lie still, Potter." The voice was not so harsh this time. A hand rested on his forehead.

"Am I dying?" He rasped out, not entirely certain any one would be able to make out what he was saying. His throat was too dry. He'd like some water before he died, please.

Silence. A slight clinking of metal and sounds came to him. Sounds he recognized as the medical ward of Hogwarts.

"No, you're not dying. Just stay still all the same." The voice was irritated, but not in the usual way. More like an irritation begot from lack of sleep and too much stress perhaps.

Harry lay still, wishing for water but too unfocused and wary to ask for it.

Why was he being treated by Professor Snape? Where was Madam Pomfrey? His mind was placed at ease only by the knowledge that Hermione was near.

The hand on his forehead moved away. Immediately the nausea returned, he turned his head to the side and tried the warn them, "Sick."

"No you're not, Potter. Just your stomach trying to crawl out of your body." Again, the usually snide voice of the potions Professor was gentling. Vaguely he wondered why Snape wasn't chastising him, but was too grateful for the cool hand that again pressed against his forehead. Whispered Latin words. An incantation certainly. The sickness receded once more, but hung on the horizon.

"Here, drink." His head was lifted slightly, a cup pressed to his lips and gloriously cold water washed over his lips, dribbled down his chin before he started gulping it down in great draughts.

He made no effort to fight his mind from slipping back into unconsciousness.

They were looking at him again. He felt their eyes on him. Harry gripped his quill a bit tighter and willed himself to ignore it. Now Hermione and Ron were giving him worried glances.

He continued to take down the instructions Snape was writing on the board for today's lesson. Some type of mixture that allowed one to see in the dark, like a cat.

Ever since he'd returned from Madam Pomfrey's ward he'd been hyper aware of the cautious looks he received. And not just from other students, or from snickering Slytherins. This was more than that. This was like the time the whole school discovered he could speak to snakes.

Still Harry couldn't recall what it was that had landed him in the hospital ward in the first place. His last memory had been sitting in this very class last week and taking down notes, just as he was doing now. Perhaps that is why every one kept eyeing him. Did they think it was going to happen again?

The only one who seemed impervious to it all was Snape. He continued to scratch out the last details of the potion then turned towards his group of students with a great flourish of black robes, long fingered hands clasped a thick bound book of potions before him and he glared at the entire class.

"Well?" A quiet murmur from him and when he was met with blank looks and silence he slammed the book down on his desk with great force, causing the entire dungeon room to echo with a great bang. The class jumped in alarm, a few muffled screams from some girls in the back and then a mad rush for the table of ingredients where it was a free for all.

Harry hated this part. He was never quick or brutal enough to just jump in there and push others aside in hopes of getting the best ingredients. He always ended up with the last remains. Possibly this explained why his potions were never completely up to par.

Ron returned to their table with his arms full of shrubs, roots, and various animal entrails. "Got enough for both of us, Harry."

"Thanks." Harry gave a half smile of appreciation and started in on his potion. Ron and Hermione had been the ones to tell him what happened last week.

"Blimey Harry! You don't remember at all?"

"I told you I don't."

"Well I guess its not surprising really. It was pretty bad. I never heard such screaming."

Harry gulped down the last of the chocolate that had come with his lunch. He was still in the hospital ward and eating in bed with his friends on either side of him.

He glanced at Hermione for confirmation. Ron had a way of embellishing things sometimes.

She stared back at him.

"Screaming?"

"Yeah, you Harry. You were just going about your potion, all normal like and then just collapsed and started screaming bloody murder. You were grabbing at your head… erm… your scar, you know… scratching at it, like you could get it off… it was bleeding, from your scratching.

That explained the healing scabs on his forehead.

"Oh, it was awful Harry. I was so worried." Hermione moved from her seat to the edge of the bed. "We didn't know what to do."

"Yeah, and you were just curled up on the floor screaming. The whole class was… well… it was bad."

"Professor Snape, he's the one who brought you to the hospital ward. He stopped your screaming."

"Still can't figure how he did that." Ron looked curiously at Hermione. "Like he just knew how to make it stop. Just reached down and laid a hand on your head and you went silent. Then scooped you up and rushed out of the class. Brought you here."

Harry's thoughts flashed back to his first conscious thoughts upon waking in this bed. Snape's hand on his forehead.

"I remember him here. He was here earlier, when I woke up. He gave me water."

"Yeah, he was here a lot while you were unconscious, Harry." Hermione confirmed. "Mostly at night when Madam Pomfrey was sleeping."

"Creepy." Ron shivered and sat back in his chair.

Sitting here in class again, Harry had to wonder how creepy it actually was. At first thought it had seemed disturbing to him. To have Professor Snape, of all the Professors and other staff here at Hogwarts, to have it be him who was at Harry's bedside. It was him who had stopped his screams and watched over him at night while he lay unconscious. Why him?

He found himself looking over his caldron at the tall, gloomy man. The potions master was at his desk, eyes darting back and forth over some scrolls lying before him. Probably quizzes from some previous class. He scribbled off marks with his quill and set one of the scrolls aside. Then, as if sensing some one was watching him, the black eyes looked up and directly into Harry's own.

Startled, Harry looked away quickly. Realized his potion was about to boil over and quickly set it right again.