The Friday Boy

CHAPTER 18

It was Friday, the first back after Christmas and the pile of schoolwork had already begun to grow again. Becoming a senior next year, and having to take his Newts was just daunting to Harry, and added to his already large list of issues. Harry hadn’t spoken to Snape since Christmas dinner. The professor and Dumbledore had rushed back to Hogwart’s on Boxing Day as news came in of Voldemort’s plans. Of course Harry had been left in the dark about everything and had returned to school the following week with little idea of what or who was involved with Voldemort’s plans. Potion’s was painful, Snape returning to his old self with just as much vengeance and conviction as he’d had when Harry had first started school. Harry knew how to handle it though and although he was being talked AT rather than talked TOO, he found comfort in the fact Snape was at least acknowledging his existence still.

To make matters worse Harry’s visions had begun again and that was why, he was sitting hunched over the toilet bowl in the 1st year girls’ bathroom at 11.00pm being violently ill. Harry hadn’t made it to his own sixth year bathroom and had instead only just managed to make it to this one. He’d been lucky he hadn’t met anyone in the hallways, at this time of night professors still patrolled looking for curfew breakers, and Filch was always out. For the third time since he’d come in Harry flushed the toilet and slumped down on the cool stone of the cubical floor and closed his eyes. As Dumbledore had explained to him last year, his visions were often just reflections of what Voldemort was thinking and not real events but it was hard when such horrible scenes played in his dreams to separate reality from the visions. Harry sighed as he heard footsteps along the hall outside. Crossing his fingers Harry hoped that who ever it was just continued on down the hallway but he wasn’t so lucky as he heard the footsteps enter the bathroom and pause. Harry heaved but pressed his hand to his lips, determined not to be disturbed however nature wasn’t something to trifle with and as his stomach churned Harry was forced to let go as he threw up again into the toilet bowl. The footsteps started up again and before Harry had finished heaving he saw a pair of familiar potion stained boots stop outside the cubical he was currently sat in. Surprisingly though Snape didn’t just throw open the door as he expected instead there came a tentative knock.

“Are you okay? Would you like me to get Madam Pomfrey?” Harry closed his eyes and sighed remembering that he was in the girl’s bathroom and for all intents and purpose the potion master had assumed it was a female in the toilet. When Harry didn’t reply a knock came again this time a little louder. “Please if you’re ill you need to see Madam Pomfrey, if you’re afraid…” Harry smiled at Snape’s strained sympathetic tone. The man really didn’t do sympathetic very well and Harry knew the man would be rolling his eyes on the other side of the door. Slowly reaching up Harry unlocked the door and let it swing open to reveal the mess he was in. “Potter?” Snape had taken a step back when the door had opened and was now staring down at Harry in confusion. “Food poisoning again?” Snape enquired suspiciously as he stepped into the cubical and glanced into the toilet before flushing it for Harry.

“I wish.” Harry sighed as he lifted his face to Snape, to reveal the trickle and blood smears on his face where his scar had been bleeding.

“Shit.” Snape swore as he pulled out a handkerchief from his robe pocket and hastily walked over to the sink to dampen it before returning to Harry’s side. “Come on, up you get.” Harry shakily allowed Snape to help him from the floor and onto the bench running along the sidewall beside the sinks. “Chin up.” Snape muttered as he lifted Harry’s chin with a firm hand before proceeding to dab away the now dry blood on Harry’s face. When he was satisfied that there was no damage on Harry’s face aside from the lighting scar, Snape stepped back and wrung the bloodied cloth out in the sink. “You still look pale, is your stomach still queasy?” Snape inquired coolly as he stared at Harry with a concerned professor like stare.

“Yeah, won’t be leaving here for a little while yet.” Harry swallowed grimacing a little at the vile taste that filled his mouth. Harry did feel slightly better from having the cool water on his face but he was hardly well. For a moment Harry wondered if Snape was going to insist he go to the infirmary but with a sigh the professor draped the wet hanky over the sink edge before propping himself up on the bench beside Harry, his robe hitched up to stop it dragging on the damp bathroom floor.

“Let’s play a game.” Severus whispered his voice not giving away any of his inner thoughts as he glanced across at Harry for confirmation. Harry huffed in amusement wondering when on earth it was that when either of them were in trouble, they’d always play the game as a distraction. Harry also had a sneaking suspicion that Snape was fishing for answers to tonight.

“Sure but I’ll go first.” Harry muttered as he dry heaved fighting down the urge to vomit the meager amount of what ever was left in his stomach from dinner. Reaching across Snape straightened Harry’s back and soothed a hand across the back of the boy’s neck.

“Sit up straight, it’ll either help it go down better or ease it coming back up.” Snape spoke in his professor’s authorative tone of voice again. Harry smiled and did as he was instructed as he sat back against the wall to help him keep straight.

“Was teaching potions what you really wanted to do after school?” Harry glanced across at Snape as he watched the professor put his feet up on one of the milking stools the girls used in their showers for their beauty products.

“Not exactly.” Snape paused and stared up strangely at the high gothic ceiling of the bathroom. “I loved potions, but I wanted to do research on them discover new ones and reinvent the ancient ones, then have my findings published in journals.” Snape looked back down from the ceiling to shrug his shoulders carelessly at Harry. “But like most things in my life Mr. Potter, I don’t often get what I wish for.” Harry shrugged his shoulders too, knowing he didn’t get what he wished for either. “So what was the vision about tonight?” Harry rolled his eyes as Snape continued with a very predictable question.

“The usual torture scene, different face, different screams but they all end badly.” Harry was deliberately obtuse with his description; not wanting to let on that the face he’d seen in pain and in death had been the very man sitting beside him. “What were your parents like?” Moving on quickly Harry changed the subject. Snape scoffed darkly and shook his head, obviously uncomfortable about talking about his parents.

“Mother was a smart woman, she encouraged my love of potions with her love of gardening and growing medicinal plants. She died before I left school though.” Harry was sure he caught a fond twitch of a smile on Severus face as he remembered his mother but that fond smile faded when he moved on to his father. “Dad, was very strict and was extremely volatile. The Snape family have been entrenched in the dark arts for as long as there have been Snape’s it’s only been in recent times that we’ve involved ourselves with the dark lord and gained a reputation for ourselves. Dad traded in the more illicit dark objects.” Harry watched as Snape shifted uncomfortably before straightening his back and looking across at Harry. “How long have the visions been going on?” Again Harry rolled his eyes.

“A month or so, not this bad but on and off especially if I’ve had a bad day.” Snape nodded in silent understanding, knowing himself what a bad day could result in if he was summoned to Voldemorts side afterward. Silently Harry thought about his next question, dying to know if Snape had thought more about what had happened between them at Christmas. “How do I prove to you that I’m sure?” Harry swallowed around the tightness in his throat wondering where on earth he’d just found the courage to ask the question he’d been thinking about all week. Harry wasn’t sure when he’d made the decision or if it was the right one but no matter how hard he tried to find fault with being with Snape, the more things he found that were good. Snape was quiet his gaze firmly locked on Harry’s where the boy was trying to keep his composure. He wanted to be seen as mature in Severus’ eyes and for the first time in his life Harry wanted approval.

“Just tell me why you know for sure?” Harry smiled and shook his head in disbelief having asked himself the same question since Christmas. Harry shrugged his shoulders knowing undoubtedly that he’d fuck this up, but willing to give it a try anyway.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you. I look for you everywhere and when you’re not there I panic and wonder if you’re okay. I don’t even imagine anyone else in my fantasies anymore either, nothing but you seems satisfying. I don’t want to be shared and I didn’t mean to humiliate you and I won’t ever do it again. And although I don’t exactly know what Dominant means it’s going to be kind of exciting to find out.” Harry blushed, his cheeks rosy as he looked away from Snape in embarrassment. “I think you’re worth the risk and although I’m not sure if I’m gay I know it’s you I want.” Harry swallowed nervously and finally looked up from where he’d been twisting his hands in his lap nervously to stare into Snape’s expressionless, unreadable eyes. “And because when I saw you die tonight I felt as if I was dying with you…” Harry trailed off already feeling the familiar churn of his stomach. Without thought Harry clutched his hands to his mouth only just managing to crash into the stall closest to him before what was left of his abused stomach came erupting from his mouth. Shaking, pale and in the middle of a cold sweat Harry knew he was loosing it and it was only as he felt a soft calming hand pull his hair back out of his eyes that he knew it was okay.

“That it?” Harry nodded weakly as he dry wretched a final time before collapsing against Snape’s legs behind him. “Good, come on you’re a mess.” Without flinching Snape flushed the toilet and with a confident ease lifted Harry’s frame into his arms. The boy was freezing but was clammy to touch and Snape hoped the house elves had filled his bath liked he’d told them to every Friday night since he’d started going to the club back in Harry’s third year. Reaching his rooms Snape balanced Harry against his chest as he flicked his wand awkwardly at the portrait. When the door opened Snape strode confidently through the lounge and his bedroom and into the bathroom. Sure enough the sunken tub was full the fragrant relaxing potion he favored filling the air with a sweet scent. “In you go.” Sitting Harry on the side of the bath, with a flick of his wand the boy was naked and with a steady hand Harry was pushed into the warm depth of the bath. Harry sighed and relaxed almost immediately as Snape sat down on the edge of the bath and watched over his patient carefully. It had come as a shock to Snape to have heard Harry’s account of his death. In truth Harry may have had a vision from Voldemort but Snape’s death had certainly been one of Snape’s own dreams of himself dying. The sharing of dreams was rare and it only meant one thing….

TBC>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>.