Awakening

The first thing Harry noticed was that he was lying on a hard, cold floor. There was a sticky crustiness on the front of his open robes, his chest stung with surprising heat, and he felt weak and exhausted. Opening his eyes was a laborious business. His eyelids felt so heavy.

"Harry, are you okay?" Sirius sounded frantic. He had hold of Harry's hand. His grip felt warm, comforting, reassuring.

For him, Harry made an extra effort, finally managing to eke out a groan.

"Harry, we're going to take care of you," Sirius hissed urgently. "Just hang in there!"

"Sirius." All in all, that one word was a spectacular endeavour, one that his godfather seemed to appreciate, since he gathered Harry against him.

"Harry, what possessed you to jump in front of that hex like that?" Sirius whispered urgently. "You could have been killed!"

"As I have already mentioned," a bored, disgusted voice broke in – Snape's voice – "I had no intention of killing you, Black, and the boy will suffer few ill-effects from the spell. He'll be up and performing incompetently in my class in no time."

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Harry mumbled. "I just didn't want to see you hurt. I didn't want to worry you."

"The important thing is that you're going to get better," Professor McGonagall said briskly, crouching down beside Harry alongside Sirius. "Professor Snape will be giving you a restorative soon. That will help you get back on your feet, and then we should be able to get you to the hospital wing without the Headmistress asking you awkward questions."

"I'm not taking any potion he brews!" Harry grumbled. With some effort, he craned his head to look past Professor McGonagall and over at the looming form of Professor Snape.

"Touching as your affection for me is," Snape sneered, "we don't have time for your ridiculous nonsense."

"I won't take it!" Harry gasped, his gaze skidding painfully back to Sirius. "Who knows what he'll put in it?"

Sirius exchanged a look with Professor McGonagall, his expression tight. "He has a point, Minerva," he pointed out. "Snape has already proven once tonight that he cannot be trusted."

Professor McGonagall looked torn herself, but after a few moments of seeming indecision, she announced, "He has Professor Dumbledore's trust, and I have confidence in Albus's judgement. I don't believe Severus would deliberately harm the boy."

"Perhaps your godson has failed to inform you of the efforts I have made to protect him since he has been at Hogwarts, Black?" Snape drawled. "I would hardly ruin all my good work now, even if it is wasted on a foolish dunderhead like Potter."

Sirius's hands on Harry clenched tightly, almost painfully so, as he glowered at Snape. The Potions professor glared right back at him.

"Do you need to make the restorative, Severus, or is there some handy?" Minerva asked, her voice cutting across the tension in the room.

"I have one bottle left," Snape responded, glancing away from Sirius. "Fortunately, Black missed that in his demolition of my office."

Sirius snorted in response. Instead of rising to that jibe, he focussed his attention on his godson once more. "Harry, if Professor McGonagall and I help you, do you think you could sit up now?"

Harry's chest still ached, but he found he could breathe reasonably easily. "I think so," he said.

With much heaving from Sirius and Professor McGonagall, Harry was pulled to a sitting position. Shards of glass tinkled as they were dislodged from their resting places near him. The movement tore at the pain in his chest, and he stifled a groan. Sirius, he could see, was not fooled at all by his attempt at bravery. "Maybe we should have left you lying there a bit longer," the man muttered.

"No, it's okay," Harry protested. "I'm fine." His voice sounded weak and exhausted. Not even he believed it. When Sirius crouched behind him to support his back, he didn't object.

"Stay there for a moment. Don't try and move again just yet," Professor McGonagall advised, her expression grave.

Professor Snape squatted down beside Harry and, without explanation, produced a bottle and poured a small amount of clear liquid over his chest. He began to chant an incantation under his breath.

"Hey!" Harry snapped, trying weakly to scramble away. "Stop that!"

"Harry, stop struggling and let Professor Snape heal you," Professor McGonagall admonished him. "He has already stopped the bleeding."

"It's okay, Harry," Sirius cut in, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I won't let anyone hurt you." The man's voice did sound a little stilted, however, and the hands that held Harry upright felt tense and stiff.

Gritting his teeth, Harry attempted to relax, trying to ignore the chill sinking into his chest as Snape continued the spell. It wasn't easy. He kept remembering that green light flashing out of the professor's wand and the searing pain as it hit him across the chest. He kept seeing his bound, bruised godfather suspended in mid-air in Snape's office. Now he was supposed to trust the man?

The chant seemed to go on forever, and the water on his chest chilled him. However hard he tried not to show weakness, Harry couldn't stop his teeth from chattering wildly.

"He's freezing," Sirius snapped angrily, craning around to examine his godson. "His lips are turning blue."

Snape continued to chant without pausing to answer.

Professor McGonagall reached down to cover Sirius's hand on Harry's shoulder with hers. "Severus can't stop mid-incantation," she explained. "We'll dry Harry off as soon as he is done." Then, bending over Harry, she whispered, "It won't take long."

Harry tried to smile at her, but he was sure that all he managed was a stiff, weak effort. Professor McGonagall smiled back, her expression surprisingly gentle. Then, standing straight, she sketched a shape in the air with her wand. A fuzzy tartan blanket dropped into her hands. Sirius took it and draped it around Harry's shoulders. It was wonderfully soft and incredibly cosy. Harry could feel the warmth creeping over him, doing battle against the cold induced by Snape's spell and the water that soaked the front of his robes.

Moments later, Snape's chant ceased, and he dried Harry's robes with magic. Sirius pulled Harry's robe shut and wrapped the blanket all the way around him. Harry began to feel almost comfortable. Even the pain in his chest had receded to a dull ache, and he had to grudgingly admit that he probably had Snape to thank for it. He couldn't quite bring himself to express gratitude towards the Potions master though. Not after what Snape had done to him, and what he had done to Sirius, and what he had tried to do. He settled for sullenly glancing away from the man and rasping to Sirius, "I'm thirsty."

"Better stay away from the wine," Sirius suggested, a hint of mischief in his voice.

Harry managed to catch a glimpse of Snape's face just as his godfather spoke those words. The Potions professor's expression was livid, hate-filled, and directed right at his godfather. What was that about?

Professor McGonagall seemed to be equally irritated. "Quite," she said frostily. Her face had turned stern and indecipherable. She, too, was glaring at Sirius.

"How about some pumpkin juice?" Sirius suggested cheerfully.

"I'll get it," Professor McGonagall grumbled, her voice tight and angry. "I presume you two gentlemen can be trusted now that Harry is awake." She glared from Sirius to Snape and then back again. "I won't be long," she added, striding out the door and closing it with a bang.

"Sirius..." Harry turned his head – a task much easier now than it had been when he first regained consciousness. "Is everything okay?"

"Nothing to worry about," Sirius assured him jovially. Harry could hear the smile in his voice. "She'll get over it."

"Oh, yes," Snape drawled scornfully, "don't explain for precious Potter. It wouldn't do for him not to think well of his godfather."

Harry glanced over at the Potions professor, his curiosity heightened by Snape's words.

"Perhaps you wish to tell him, Snivellus?" Sirius suggested easily. "Please, feel free to explain. I have nothing to hide." There was a jibe hidden in those words.

"Except your penchant for larceny," Snape snapped.

"Everyone has failings," Sirius responded with blithe unconcern. "I'm sure Harry won't hold it against me."

"Likely not," Snape growled, transferring his glare to Harry, who narrowed his eyes back at the professor. "Your godson is every bit as bad."

"Delighted to hear it," Sirius responded cheerfully, squeezing Harry's shoulder affectionately.

Glaring coldly at Sirius, Snape turned to the cupboard in the corner of his office, rummaging around until he produced a bottle filled with blue liquid. Returning to Harry's side, he unstoppered it and held it out to him. "Drink all of this," he said.

"What is it?" asked Harry suspiciously. He eyed the bottle, but did not take it.

Snape thrust it closer to him. "You need to drink this to counter the residual effects of the spell on you. It is a restorative. You are still weak, as I'm sure you're well aware. This will enable you to get to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey can give you something more permanently effective. That is all I intend to explain myself. Drink it, Potter, and don't waste my time."

"It's okay, Harry," Sirius said. "Snape won't do anything to harm you." His voice was steely. "Not unless he wants everyone to know all about his uh... secret project."

The glare that Snape shot over Harry's shoulder at Sirius was murderous. "I assure you, I only have my student's best interests at heart," he growled. "As for my project as you call it, your very location is a secret which must be carefully guarded, is it not, Black? I can keep silent just as long as you can." The threat was palpable.

"Drink the potion, Harry," Sirius suggested, his voice devoid of any concern. "Snape knows that if he harms you, I won't allow the threat of his knowledge of me to keep me from doing what I must."

Snape shoved the bottle at Harry with such angry force that the blue liquid almost slopped over the edge. "It will do exactly what I've said it will," he grated. "I tire of all this endless debate. Drink it, Potter."

It was Sirius's suggestion, not Snape's, that convinced Harry to comply. He took the bottle, and with an anxious glance over his shoulder at Sirius's encouraging expression, he took a tentative sip. Tendrils of warmth and wellbeing began to spread through his body.

"All of it, I said," Snape persisted.

Sighing, Harry downed the lot. The tendrils turned into a flood of health. After a few moments, Harry felt well enough to stand. He didn't even wobble on his feet. He could have almost thanked the Potions master.

"My NEWT students learn to make that potion," Snape observed. "Not that you will ever perform well enough to make it into that class, Potter."

"Maybe that is because of your failings as a teacher," Sirius noted acerbically.

"Or perhaps, like his father, he believes that he knows everything already and is therefore impossible to teach," Snape shot back.

"You're still jealous of James, aren't you?" Sirius sneered. "You can't get over the fact that you needed to wait until his back was turned to be able to get the better of him. Look at you. You're still doing it. You're using underhanded methods to settle the score, taking your resentment of James out on his son. Harry isn't lacking in talent, you just refuse to teach him properly."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Black," Snape snapped.

"I think I do," Sirius said knowingly. "I think –"

"Really, Dolores, you'd be surprised how easily I find my way around Hogwarts even without your help."

Professor McGonagall's words, spoken just outside the door, silenced Sirius mid-sentence. He glanced between Harry and Snape, and then, lightning-fast, pulled Harry to the corner of the room behind the door. It opened slowly, and Professor Umbridge's reply could be heard quite clearly.

"It was no trouble," the Headmistress said, her voice smug and knowing.

"Well, here we are. Goodnight, Dolores," Professor McGonagall said firmly. The door opened further, and Harry and Sirius covered their ears at the noise it made. As Professor McGonagall slipped through, her eyes fell on Sirius and Harry squeezed behind the door, and her lips tightened. The moment she was through, she quite firmly began to shut the door behind herself. The movement was halted just before the door closed completely.

"Oh, I think I'll just come in and have a word with you and Professor Snape before I go to bed," Professor Umbridge replied.

Harry could see Professor McGonagall's face settle into a stiff smile. "Of course, Dolores," she gritted out. "I'm sure Professor Snape will be quite happy to see you."

The door began to open again. Harry stared desperately at Professor McGonagall. In moments both he and Sirius would be exposed.