Misconceptions

Yes, it has been forever since I updated. I’m going to rot in author hell for being so neglectful. The only excuse I can offer is that I got so caught up in reading other people’s fanfics that I simply didn’t update my own. Oh well, I’m back now! I’ll be trying to finish this story up before any of my others because it is my personal favourite. I hope I haven’t discouraged too many people from continuing to read this fanfic because of my absence.

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Snape sat there for a few minutes, glaring at the small mass on the floor whilst thinking of all the ways he could get revenge.

And that was when Severus Snape realized that Harry Potter wasn’t breathing.

His dark eyes narrowed, lip curling into a disgusted sneer. “Stop being an idiot Potter!” he stalked over to the crumpled form, glaring down at the boy. He seriously contemplated kicking the whelp for good measure.

Harry was completely motionless, his chest no longer falling up and down. His swollen hand was stretched out in front of him, the bandaged fingers reaching out for a small plastic object on the floor.

Snape loomed above Harry impatiently, waiting for the youth to give up on his little act. He had to take in air at some point and when he did he would get the thrashing of a lifetime.

Thirty seconds passed.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Snape lowered his arms from where they were crossed at his chest, the sneer slipping from his face. “Potter!” He growled, “Enough of these games!”

Harry remained silent.

It was at that point Severus kneeled down beside the boy, flipping him over and staring at his face. He had hoped to see some sort of smug smirk on Potter’s face, a sign that he had been leading Snape on. What he saw was blue tinged lips, and the skin around Harry’s cheeks retracted as if he were inhaling as deep as possible.

“Shit!” Snape immediately grabbed Harry’s good hand and studied the fingernails. The edges had also begun to turn a dark blue. “Cyanosis,” he growled out.

Without further ado Snape parted Harry’s lips, plugged his nose, and breathed deep into his mouth. Pulling away he quickly fisted his hands and began the thirty compressions necessary to simulate breathing.

“Merlin’s Beard! Potter if you die before I get a chance to throttle you I’m never going to live it down!” He leaned down and breathed into Harry’s mouth again.

This continued for only a minute or so, with Snape becoming more frantic by the second. I’m a dead man if it turns out I killed the boy who lived. I didn’t thrash him around that hard!

Finally, Harry inhaled a small wheezing breath. He immediately began coughing violently, the coughs wracking his lungs. He clutched at his chest and throat, trying to breath in a second time and only making a whistling sound as the air failed to get to his lungs. Harry began looking around frantically, ignoring the darkening edges of his vision.

Snape’s eyes were wide as he watched the boy claw at his own chest and throat. When he noticed him scrambling around to find something he finally spoke up. “Potter! What are you looking for? Potter!

Harry had turned away from Snape, his battered hand slapping at the dirty cave floor. He finally felt his hand clutch around the small plastic object and he brought it up to his lips and pushed the little pump aggressively, all the while trying to inhale.

Both men knelt on the floor of the cave, focused completely on the task at hand. Harry’s eyes were determined, and ultimately relieved when he felt himself able to gulp in air around him, a mixture of the medication he was still releasing from the inhaler and the dusty cave air. Snape just looked shocked and enraged all at once.

When his breathing began to slow to a normal pace, Harry lowered the inhaler and flopped back against the wall behind him, closing his jade eyes. He scowled a bit when he felt his hand throb at his side, and glanced down at the makeshift bandage. It was bloody with dirt clinging to it forming a rusty looking paste.

Snape on the other hand had regained control of his emotions, and though it felt he had aged twenty years in a span of seven minutes, he was fully prepared to give Potter a piece of his mind. “What the bloody hell is the matter with you Potter?! Do you think it is a game to damn near kill yourself in my presence?! “

Harry’s eyes shot up to meet Snape’s. “Kill myself? Are you out of your mind?! You almost killed me!” At this point he was standing over Snape, his green orbs blazing.

“I pushed you against a wall! I would hardly say that is considered a murder attempt! You insolent child, are you forgetting that us being in this situation is entirely your fault in the first place?!” Snape had stood up and began glowering at Harry.

“Oh, please forgive me sir for trying to do a decent thing and keep you alive. Maybe if I had known you’d watch me suffocate on the floor for five minutes before helping me I would have let you freeze outside in the storm!” Harry turned on his heel and marched over to the stone slab he had previously occupied and sat down. “You know what, just forget it. You can make your way up to the castle and tell them to open the bloody doors and then we can both go back to openly loathing each other. Next time you end up face down in the snow, don’t expect me to help.”

Snape glared at Harry from across the cave, his eyes narrowed. When Harry turned away from him and faced the opposite wall Snape scoffed and looked around for the first time.

Near the area Harry was in he noticed a makeshift firepit, the flames dangerously low at this point. Beside it was a small stone bowl, upon closer inspection it looked as if it was filled with bloodied water. Strips of black cloth were laid out on the stones close to the fire, presumably so they would dry.

Confused by the black scraps of cloth, Snape glanced around to determine their origin. It was then he noticed that Harry was without a school robe. The boy was wearing a pair of muggle jeans and a faded black t-shirt.


“Potter, where is your robe?” He inquired suspiciously.

Harry rolled over in his spot and raised an eyebrow. “You’re wearing it.”

Glancing down at himself, Snape noted the same black material from Harry’s robe had been wrapped around his numerous wounds. They appeared fresh, and he couldn’t see any lingering blood on his torso. Had Potter actually sacrificed his precious Gryffindor school robe for the greasy git of the dungeons?

“...Why?”

With a sigh, Harry sat up and stared at his potion’s professor. “Because it was the right thing to do.” He gazed at the fire for a few minutes before speaking up again. “I know you think I’m an insufferable brat, an idiot and completely worthless, hell that’s all true. But one thing I’m not is heartless. You needed the robe more than I did, so you got it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Snape wasn’t sure what to say, Harry had him stumped for words. He had woken up believing Harry to be the culprit behind his attack, but it was seeming more and more unlikely. If Harry had wanted him dead, he could have finished him off by leaving him outside. It would appear to be a death eater meeting gone wrong.

“Sir, not to sound ungrateful for your stimulating company, but do you think you can get the castle wards to let up so we can go inside? I need to go to the infirmary and I’ve got a Charms essay due in two days...”

Snape’s head shot up. “Potter, if I could open the wards don’t you think I would have done so already?”

Harry stared at him blankly. “Sooo, you’re a professor who doesn’t have access to the school? That makes perfect sense!” He tossed out sarcastically.

“ No Potter I happen to be a professor who planned on being out all night and not being forced to use an emergency portkey.” Snape snapped at Harry.

“Sorry sir, I didn’t mean to be rude, I’m just frustrated is all.” Harry sighed and crouched down by the fire, picking up the now dry pieces of cloth. He cast the spells to empty the stone bowl and refill it with clean water and soaked the rags in them.

“What are you doing now Potter? Can’t you just sit still?” Snape scoffed at Harry’s back as the boy worked at soaking the rags.

“Um, I would, but now that you seem to be in fine shape I need to take care of my hand. I was hoping that Madame Pomfrey could take care of it, but if we can’t see her until morning its best that I do what I can...” He sat down cross legged on the floor and slowly began to peel the caked on robe from his hand.

Snape watched Harry through the process of cleaning his injury. The young wizards hand looked atrocious. It was completely swollen up, the skin raw and bloody in some spots. He could see a thick white liquid oozing from some of the more torn up parts on the palms and to top it off there was dirt stuck into the wounds. Snape watched as Harry winced his way through the cleaning before rewrapping it.

“No, leave it unwrapped. If you keep wrapping it then it will remain moist and more prone to further infection. Just ensure its as clean as possible and keep from rummaging around in the dirt.” Snape called to Harry.

“...Thank you sir.” Harry spoke quietly, putting the scrap of robe aside.

“How did you get an injury like that in the first place?” Snape inquired.

Harry looked up at Snape as he washed the rags clean and laid them out to dry again. “When my potion was botched it shot out some steam, got my hand as I was trying to stop the ingredient from falling in...” he muttered, looking away from Snape. That sore subject had been what ultimately had him stuck out in the cold in the first place.

“Oh,” was Snape’s initial response. “Then perhaps you should be more careful of what you put in your cauldron next time.” He snidely remarked.

Harry looked at his teacher for a long moment, opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue, then closed it. He hopped back up on the stone slab and whispered “There won’t be a next time, remember?” Before rolling over and promptly falling into a restless sleep.

Snape stared at Harry for a few minutes, eyes narrowed until he saw the youth’s breath even out in sleep. He couldn’t help but feel as if he had been insulted by the boy’s last comment. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t warned Harry about his continuous screw ups in the potions classroom. Today had been the final straw when the lives of other students were put in serious jeopardy. Snape refused to feel guilty about banning Harry from his classroom.

As he strolled into a corner and slumped down into it, he couldn’t stop thinking about Harry’s last comment. Eventually, sleep overcame him as well.

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I’ve got to say that I’m not really happy with this chapter. It feels very OOC and just not me. Oh well, I promised an update so an update you got. And yes, Harry is an asthmatic. :D Why didn’t Snape question him further about the whole cyanosis and no-breathing thing? Because Snape is currently being a dink. ;) Don’t worry, it’ll come up soon. Next chapter they are back in the castle!

Reviews are loved.