Better Be Slytherin!

'You had better, Severus Snape. I do not want him coming back in here like this again. Ever. Is that clear?'

'Of course,' he said stiffly. He had said he would do right by the boy, and so he would. She had never had cause to doubt his word before. Of course, he had never let her down so horribly before either.

She gave him a curt nod, then said, 'I also noted his scar was inflamed again, and applied some salve. His bones are repaired, but he will need to favor them for a week or two, the arm especially. I don't want him flying again until at least then, and preferably not until I give him the go ahead.'

Unspoken was the understanding that the boy might not be completely trusted in the air, with bludgers flying about, just now. Severus nodded. 'I will see to it.'

'Good. He's sleeping now, if you want to see him.'

Since had come out of the dungeons to do that very thing, Severus was not too put off by her assumption that he should. Instead, he nodded, and went to stand at the boy's bedside. Potter looked so small in the hospital bed, so pale and frail against the white sheets. His right arm – the damaged one – was held in a soft sling, to keep him from jostling it too much. The lightning bolt scar stood out like a slash on his nearly white forehead. His mouth was pinched, even in sleep, as if he were still in pain. But Pomfrey would have dosed him with pain relief potions, surely.

He glanced at her, and she nodded. 'I gave him a strong one, and a muscle relaxant, but he seems unable to rest well even so. If he wakes before midnight, I have a Dreamless Sleep for him, too.'

Severus nodded, and pulled a chair up, one left there by the Quidditch team. As he eased himself down, he wondered how it had come to this. Alas, he knew the answer; he just did not want to admit it. And yet he must.

It was fairly close to midnight before Potter woke. As with almost everything the boy did, he woke quietly, eyes blinking heavily as confusion crossed his face. Severus could tell when Potter realized he was in the Infirmary, as he gave a low sigh, almost a groan, of displeasure. If he had not been trying desperately to figure out what he was going to say to the Boy Who Tried to Beat Bludgers at Their Game, he might have found it amusing.

As it was, he had only to say, 'Mr. Potter,' and the boy closed his eyes again with another almost inaudible groan. His expression grew immediately blank, as Potter hid his emotions carefully behind his mask. Severus could not blame him, at all.

The words he knew he had to say made his voice shake, just a little, when he repeated, 'Mr. Potter.' He swallowed, then, 'I know you are awake. I would like . . . I want to speak with you.'

The resigned look in the boy's eyes when he opened them again and sought out the form of his professor was so complete, Severus was almost knocked back. He didn't have to be a Legilimens to realize Potter expected a lecture, and maybe some punishment. Well, the boy was in for a surprise then.

'Yes, sir?' Potter's voice was flat, with almost no inflection, and Severus hesitated and swallowed again.

'Potter . . . I would like . . .' Severus ducked his head briefly, and when it came up, he leaned forward, closer to the bed and reached for the edge of the bed, to clutch at the blanket. He needed something to hold, something to grip, or he was never going to get through this.

'Sir?'

'I want to apologize,' Severus said quickly, only able to get the words out if he rushed them. Potter's mouth opened as wide as his eyes as he continued, 'I've treated you badly, and I'm sorry.'

A long moment passed, with Potter staring at him like he had suddenly turned into a flobberworm. His eyes narrowed after the first few seconds, as suspicion took root in his mien. Severus was almost glad to see it, as it meant the Potter Brat wasn't going to just accept his words on face value. And yet . . . he had to accept them. Severus would not accept anything else. He was going to make a concerted effort to treat the boy as he would any of his other Snakes; he was going to change.

At last, Potter said, 'Fine. Thanks,' and turned his face away.

He should have just gone, and waited for another time, but he could not dispel the feeling that this was all his fault, and he wanted . . . absolution? Something, some recognition or acknowledgement of what this was costing him. So he said, 'Potter, I know you're tired, and I understand this has been a difficult week for you,' and when the boy's jaw clenched, he should have taken it as a sign and left him alone, but hindsight was twenty-twenty, wasn't it? 'I am willing to take some of the responsibility for that, and—'

'Oh, you are?' the boy snapped. His green eyes flashed dangerously. 'How incredibly noble of you. Sir.'

Severus clenched his hands into fists. 'Well, it is hardly my doing that your scar has been hurting and you've not seen fit to share that information with me.'

'Oh, right; you've been so bloody approachable!'

'Language, Mr. Potter! And I will not tolerate your impertinence.'

Potter worked his jaw and came out with a sullen, 'Sorry, sir.'

Severus gave a quick nod. He was just as glad for the display of temper, actually, as, in his opinion, it showed the boy would likely make a recovery from this . . . incident, without too much trauma. 'As I was saying, since your present predicament is, at least in some respects, my responsibility, and I have heard from others of your professors that you have fallen behind in your work—'

'Because you made me do—' Potter cut off when Severus raised a warning hand, though the accompanying flinch he could have done without. He had never struck a child in his life, but Potter's reaction gave him a start nonetheless, and reminded him that this was a child he had to handle carefully, or he would never regain the boy's trust . . . if he had ever had it in the first place.

'I understand that,' Severus said, more softly, dropping his hand. The boy's gaze tracked it, all the way down, which made him feel an even greater beast for raising it in the first place. 'I am merely telling you what I have come to realize very recently. And to follow that up with an offer for tutoring. To help you catch up with your classmates.'

'No. Thank you. Sir.' The boy's expression was set in stone. 'I'm doing fine by myself.'

Severus stared at the small form in the bed and suppressed a sigh. How many times had this child said – or