jharad17 - Whelp II The Wrath of Snape

Madam Pomfrey floated him over to his bed, and settled him against pillows propped up behind him. "Your House-elf told me your ankle was injured. I'm going to remove this sock and see what I can do for it, and while I do, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I fell, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said. He kept his hands in his lap and didn't look her in the eye, because he wasn't allowed to. He knew that. Freaks weren't like people, after all. But just then, Treacle Tart leaped up on the bed, sauntered over to him and walked up his legs as if she still liked him. She settled herself in his lap, on top of his hands, and purred and purred, till his eyes filled with tears again and he had to blink real fast to hold them in. He wanted to hug her close, bury his face in her fur and never look up again, but Madam Pomfrey was still talking to him.

"When did you fall?"

"Before lunch, ma'am."

"Where?" she asked as she removed his sock and ran her wand over the ankle.

"Outside, ma'am. On the rocks." He didn't mention the snake this time, since Father said that was to be a secret. Treacle butted her head against his arm, and he pulled a hand out from under her so he could pet her soft fur and scratch gently at her ears like she liked.

With a frown, Madam Pomfrey said, "This ankle has been damaged before."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry."

Her frown deepened. "Is your father in class?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"When did he put your ankle in the Body Bind?" He looked up quickly, confused, and she said, "When did he make it all stiff?"

"Oh. Before lunch, ma'am."

"Did he check it again before he went to class?"

"No, ma'am."

She waved her wand over his ankle a couple more times, and said some weird words almost under her breath. Pain flared all of a sudden, in his ankle, and he sucked in a tight breath. That made his lower back twinge, but he made sure not to wince or flinch away. That only provoked more trouble, he knew. But almost as soon as it started, the pain eased in his ankle, all the way down to a dull throb, followed by a pins and needles sensation, like his foot was waking up. The prickly feeling wasn't too awful, and he relaxed a bit against the pillows. Sweat had broken out on his forehead, though, and he swiped that away, feeling a little nauseous.

"What did you eat for lunch?" she asked. When, trying to catch his breath, he didn't answer right away, she said, "Harry?"

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey, I'm sorry."

"It's all right, dear." She put a hand on his shoulder, and left it there, even when he flinched really bad. People weren't supposed to touch freaks like him. She squeezed his shoulder gently. "Can you tell me what you ate for lunch?"

He thought a moment, though it was hard with her hand there, even if it did feel comforting. He wasn't supposed to be comforted. "Um, some apple?"

"Is that all?"

"And milk," he admitted, sure he'd done something wrong. Maybe he wasn't supposed to have eaten anything. But Father had said to, hadn't he? "I'm sorry, ma'am."

"There's nothing to be sorry about." Her hand left his shoulder, and though he knew it was bad to want such things, he wished she would go back to touching him. But Tree was still there, and her purring felt like it went right through to his bones, working against the ache in his chest.

Besides, Madam Pomfrey's wand was moving again. Then the pain in his back faded all of a sudden, as if it had never been there, and the same with the cuts on his belly stopped stinging. He let out a relieved sigh, glad it no longer hurt to breathe. "Why were you out on the rocks, Harry?"

As he remembered this morning, and Charlie, Harry's breath hitched again. Now he understood why Charlie hadn't wanted to talk to him, or go exploring, and why Payton had been mean and laughed at Treacle's name. Even they knew he was a freak. "I was 'sploring, ma'am," he said quietly. "Not s'posed to be in the way."

Her head cocked to the side a bit. "Who told you that?"

"Uh-uncle Vernon, ma'am." He bit his lip, then dutifully repeated, "Good for nothing freaks must stay out of sight so normal people don't ever have to look at them."

Madam Pomfrey was quiet for a moment, and Harry peeked up at her from beneath his fringe, to see her eyes wide and her mouth in the shape of an O. Then she started muttering again, but this time about his father, saying things like, "How he could leave a child alone and in pain for hours without bringing him to me?" and, "Doesn't he have any idea of how to treat a child in his care?" and so on.

Harry closed his eyes briefly, only to open them again when Madam Pomfrey said, "Here, Harry dear, drink this for me. It will help heal your ankle, all right? And the bruising." Though he was a bit scared, he had to be brave and do what he was told, so he drank the potion she held to his lips, expecting poison and burning pain and vomiting, any second. The taste was yucky, but nothing worse happened when he drank the medicine down, and he leaned back again. "Good boy. Thank you, Harry," she said, and he knew she was lying, because he wasn't good.

She was quiet then, for a while, and Harry didn't even realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up, opening his eyes slowly and rubbing the crust off his lids. His eyes ached, still, and he remembered again – he'd been crying .

He heard the sound of raised voices from the other room. Madam Pomfrey and . . . Father?

Almost desperately, he wanted to know what they were saying. Were they discussing how to best get rid of him? Was father telling her what a baby he was, what a freak? He would be prepared, if he got up to listen; he would know what was in store for him. But he was too tired to move, really, and his ankle still throbbed dully, reminding him that father had not wanted him to move about. He wouldn't disobey; he couldn't .

Instead, he closed his eyes again, one hand stroking idly through Treacle's fur, and wished he was normal. Just once. For Father.

---

At the end of his class, Severus flew – almost bat-like – to his quarters. He expected to find Harry still in distress, but hopefully with his ankle fixed by Madam Pomfrey. He did not expect to have the Medi-witch, almost frothing at the mouth, greet him at the door with, "Severus Snape, there you are! It's about time. You should be ashamed of yourself! I have half a mind to call Child Wizarding Services and have them do an investigation!"

All he could glean of her speech was that something else had happened to Harry. "How is he? Is he all right?"

"He will be. No thanks to you! How on earth could you have become a Potions Master without learning a thing about first aid, I will never—"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"His ankle , Severus! You wrapped it tight and it swelled again, cutting off the circulation to the whole foot. If I hadn't gotten here when I did, he could have lost it. Permanently. Do you understand me?"

"I . . ." Feeling the blood drain from his face, Severus stepped back from her ire. He had bound the foot, meaning to take Harry to the Infirmary. He hadn't check it again. "I understand," he whispered.

"Good. Because I believe your priorities need some adjusting."

"My priorities?" he echoed.

"Yes. That boy," she gestured to the bedroom down the hall, "is obviously in need of far more supervision than he is currently experiencing. Whose care are you leaving him in while you are playing about with potions?"

"The House-elves," he said, unable to keep a note of defensiveness from creeping into his voice. Playing about indeed! He had a job to do! "Albus assigned them himself!"

She glared at him hard enough to almost make him shuffle his feet like a chastised child. "I imagine they might be adequate to the task of looking over an eleven-year-old or older, though perhaps not even them. But for someone Harry's age? He's barely seven, and he should not be made to rely on himself so much. They aren't keeping him safe on the grounds, nor making sure he's eating properly. Barely a few bites of apple, and a sip of milk for lunch. He's malnourished as it is, and you know it!"