Better Be Slytherin!

*Chapter 24*: Chapter 24

Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 24

By jharad17

Disclaimer: Not mine. I imagine I'll get over it.

Summary: As a first year, Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and no one is more surprised than his new Head of House.

Previously:

Severus clearly had some make up work ahead of him. The largest question, of course, was would Potter give him yet another chance?

An hour after Flint left his office found Severus by the Infirmary doors. He had crept inside -- like a common thief, he sneered to himself, or someone with something to hide -- and blended with the shadows in the corner, watching the Slytherin Quidditch team surrounding Harry Potter's bed. Some of them sat on chairs or other beds nearby, and the rest stood. Severus could not see the injured boy from here, but from the worried looks of the other boys, he could imagine what Potter looked like.

Draco Malfoy, surprisingly, was sitting on Potter's bed. His blond hair – usually perfectly coifed with not a strand out of place – was severely disheveled, and he looked as worried as the rest of the team.

Severus continued to watch from the shadows as the team was ushered out not long later, by Madam Pomfrey, who told them sternly that 'Potter needs his rest, not a gaggle of gawking geese.'

There were times Severus truly appreciated the Medi-witch.

Malfoy, however, lingered for a few minutes after the others left, and bent his face close to Potter, who Severus could now see for the lack of bodies blocking his view. The boy appeared asleep, but Draco was apparently speaking to him anyway. Severus inched closer, to listen.

'…why he would say something like that. I wouldn't have, you know.' Malfoy pushed his hair out of his eyes and shook his head. 'I know you're better, faster, even on a junky old broom.' The boy's voice dropped to a whisper, and Severus had to strain to hear him. 'Just . . . I hope you'll be all right, Harry. We . . . I was really sc . . . I mean, concerned for you. We all were.'

Madam Pomfrey was back, and as Severus retreated to his shadows again, she shooed the boy out – wondering out loud how he had managed to remain behind the first time.

When she returned again, she pierced Severus with a gaze, letting him know that she knew he was there, and that she had words for him. Serious ones.

He sighed and moved forward. 'I know,' he said softly.

'You know nothing,' she hissed. 'The boy is exhausted. And the nutritive potions have ceased working for him since they have nothing to base from.' At his frown, she continued, still sounding like a wet cat, 'He has not been eating properly. Nor sleeping. I thought we had discussed this. The importance of getting him healthy.'

'We did,' he admitted.

'Then explain his condition to me.'

He couldn't, and both of them knew it. So he did not try.

Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly. 'I hope you come up with a better story when you talk to the boy.'

Severus hoped so, too.

When she continued, her voice was crisp, but still low. 'He broke three ribs; they will be sore for some days, and I do not want to hear any nonsense about him doing any detentions during that time. He needs to rest.'

She paused, waiting, and Severus nodded, as he was meant to.

'And his right arm was shattered. Compound fracture that he exacerbated by striking a bludger with it. Several times.' She paused again, and waited until Severus met her gaze. It seemed harder to do than it had been before. Her voice dropped again. 'Something drove him to a fit of rage, which he saw fit to take out on himself.'

'On a bludger,' he corrected.

Her eyes narrowed. 'As if the bludger felt it. Make no mistake, Professor Snape, Mr. Potter had every intention of taking those injuries.' Severus felt his insides knot up. Had it gotten so bad for the boy? Of course it had, he chastised himself. And he knew it. Pomfrey sighed, and Severus held his breath, waiting for the worst. 'I looked him over again, for any other signs of self-harm, scars from cutting or burns or the like. I found none. The behavior does not appear to be habitual.'

Severus let out his breath. There was that, at least.

'Which is not to say it has not been,' she continued, relentless. 'He is a wizard, after all, and he had hidden the signs of his abuse at home fairly well.'

He had at that. 'Surely you don't think—'

'I don't know what to think,' she said honestly. 'I thought you and I had come to an understanding about young Mr. Potter. I thought I could count on you not to mistake him for someone else. And I thought you would care more for a member of your House than you did old grudges.' She stared him in the eyes, and he looked away again. He was a fool, and a coward, that he could not even own up to his errors, that he could not face the one woman who had always had faith in him. 'Apparently I thought wrong.'

'No,' he said softly, and made himself look at her again. Let no one call him coward. 'No, I . . . I will do right by him.'