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Harry had only noticed the initial onslaught of colds in October after a bunch of students came to the Great Hall looking as though steam was flowing through their heads. A side effect of Madam Pomfrey's PepperUp potion, according to Hermione. She hadn't been among the afflicted, although Ginny had been-or so Percy had thought, seeing her looking pale and spending the better part of breakfast browbeating her until she meekly agreed to go to Madam Pomfrey. She had, too, as her red hair looked like it was on fire afterwards. By the end of the month, the coughs and occasional missing students from lessons had vanished, leaving Harry and many others to think the epidemic was over.
Unfortunately, such was not the case. It was mid-November when Harry woke up in his bed in Severus's quarters on a Friday morning with a raging headache, a sore throat, and feeling far too cold considering his heated night shirt and blankets, the latter still wrapped cozily around him.
He groaned, tried to sit up, and immediately felt a wave of dizziness pass through him.
"Dad?" Harry managed to croak out.
Severus appeared by his door, a puzzled expression on his face, then crossed over to his bed. "You look dreadful, child."
"I feel dreadful," he whispered, finding it hurt his throat less to speak this way.
"I expect it's a late, and more severe, case of the cold that was sweeping the castle last month." Severus began to card Harry's hair. "Before I fetch the required potions, can you tell me your symptoms?"
Harry managed a nod, then broke out in a hacking cough. Murmuring comforting words, his new guardian drew him into his arms. Harry relaxed against Severus's robes for a few minutes before attempting to speak.
"Throat hurts. Cold. Stomachache. Dizzy," Harry whispered. "And...damp. Not that-" He flushed. "I didn't wet myself."
"I believe the term you had in mind was 'clammy.' " Severus ran a hand over Harry's back in small circles. "Not that I'd fault you if you had soiled the bed clothes, child."
Harry felt himself flush again.
"I'll send word that I won't be in lessons or at the Great Hall today," Severus determined. "I'll cancel my lessons for the first years, and enlist a few older students to oversee my other ones. You, of course, won't be attending any lessons today-and perhaps not until the middle of next week, depending entirely on your recovery."
"I'm sorry."
"Whatever for, child?" Severus ran a hand over Harry's hair again, and Harry burrowed his cheek into the man's robes.
"Making a mess of your timetable," he mumbled.
His dad snorted. "As likely as not, I gave the cold to you. There are different strains, you see?" Severus began, sensing Harry's confusion. "They're the same for three to five years, until the next one arrives. We're on year three of this strain, and I had it the first year. As such," he plunged ahead, as Harry had begun to open his mouth, "those who already contacted it can pass it onto others without catching it. As a head of house, I doubtless was around far more students with it than you."
Harry wasn't entirely sure this made sense, but he knew his dad wasn't likely to lie about this. Or anything, really.
"It's okay," he said, instead.
Which was true. Severus hadn't tried to make Harry sick, if he had done so.
"Hardly, but I dare say it couldn't be helped." Severus sighed. "I haven't any potions on hand-they're under the care of Madam Pomfrey. I'll set your bath in order-yes, you need a bath, to warm you up as much as remove the clamminess," he said, almost sternly, making Harry wince. "My apologies," Severus amended, in a far more gentle tone. "Once you're settled onto the couch in the sitting room, I'll commence the first round of potions. I promise you'll see some improvement without the hour of taking them."
"The couch?" Harry echoed. "Not here?"
"I believe you would benefit from the extra heat from the fireplace, as well as the extra sunlight," Severus explained. "I'll expand the couch to the size of a bed."
Harry nodded, and was immediately seized by another hacking cough. Severus held Harry more securely, even rocking him back and forth. When the fit ended, he lifted Harry from the bed and carried him into his bathroom. Out of the corner of his eye, and going by the feel of only being held in one arm, he reckoned Severus had started the tap, the bubble jets, and poured at least two kinds of potions into the tub.
"Muscle Relaxing Potion," he explained. "And bubble bath."
Then, he lowered Harry into the water, never mind that he was still in his night shirt. Severus pulled it off his frame, then, for which Harry was grateful. The idea of his guardian seeing him naked was too embarrassing for words, yet he didn't fancy bathing partially clothed. Besides, the suds covered his body.
Harry lowered himself into the tub until the hot water reached his chin. While it didn't make Harry feel any less weak, but it felt nice. Relaxing, too. He closed his eyes.
"Mmm."
His dad chuckled. "I'll secure your head to the bath pillow, lest you fall asleep."
"Okay," Harry murmured.
He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, hands were massaging his scalp. It felt lovely, and Harry sighed deeply.
"Dad?" he asked, sleepily.
"Well, I'm not a ghost." A stream of warm water poured over Harry's scalp. While nowhere near his forehead, let alone his eyes, he flinched, then squeezed his eyes shut. "Am I hurting you, child?"
"No...just...remembering some bad baths," Harry whispered.
Cold water...eyes stinging from a combination of Aunt Petunia scrubbing too hard and soap bubbles getting in...thankfully, when he'd turned eight, she'd determined he could manage on his own. Still, as gentle as Harry knew Severus was being, the memories made him react in the same instinctive manner.
"Ohh," Severus murmured. "Harry, this shampoo is charmed so it can't get in your eyes, but I'll use extra care."
Harry swallowed hard, despite the new burn in his throat. "Thank you."
Severus kept his word, and before long, Harry found himself being held upright while the child rinsed himself off with the adjustable spray. He was glad his guardian wasn't looking directly at him, but it was still a little embarrassing. Harry felt relieved when Severus wrapped him in a warm, soft towel that covered nearly all of him. Holding Harry upright with one arm, Severus slowly ran a comb through his hair.
Putting on a spare night shirt took a bit of maneuvering, but Severus managed. Harry was nearing sleep when he found himself being tucked into bed-except it was a couch-and propped up against several pillows.
"I know you want to rest, but you need the first round of potions," Severus explained.
"Okay," Harry said, weakly. "Could I h-have some water in between?"
Harry knew how foul potions tasted.
"Naturally. And, perhaps, some tea at the end." Severus handed Harry the first one. "Fever Reducer."
The Fever Reducer potion, and the next three that followed, tasted foul. At least none burned as they went down, which was one thing kids hated about PepperUp. Harry grimaced as he downed each, but managed to swallow them without spitting any out. The final potion-Stomach Soother-was actually quite pleasant tasting, to his surprise. It tasted like a combination of mint and cinnamon, leaving a pleasant aftertaste as well.
"Well done," Severus praised, smiling. "Would you care for some tea, now?"
"Yes, please."
Harry drank from the mug slowly, relishing how it didn't burn his throat, and perhaps his throat hurt a bit less now. While he couldn't honestly say he felt much better, being clean from the bath was nice, the couch felt comfortable, and his night shirt and blankets were soft and warm against his skin.
"Shall I keep you company?" he asked.
Harry looked into Severus's kind eyes. "Could you-will you hold me?"
"Certainly, child."
Severus removed the blankets, briefly letting in cold air, but the warmth soon returned as soon as he was settled next to Harry. Severus positioned himself so that Harry was supported against him, head against his chest, Severus's arms wrapped securely around his frame.
"Is this all right? Can you still breathe?" Severus asked.
Harry breathed deeply, then nodded. "It's great."
He felt the pain in his body gradually lessen, too. A knife no longer tore at Harry's throat, replaced by a dull ache. He didn't feel like Dudley was pounding his fists on his stomach. His headache, too, was almost gone. The potions might have tasted dreadful, but there was no denying they had worked far more quickly than Muggle medicine. Harry closed his eyes, breathing deeply without much trouble, and soon, sleep overtook him.
The day passed quickly, at least to Harry's eyes. Severus let him sleep most of that day, rousing him only to give him the next round of potions. Harry might have resisted or, at least, complained, because "foul" hardly described how bad they generally tasted-except they did make him feel better immediately, and whenever he initially woke, he felt far worse than before they'd taken effect earlier. Besides, the water that followed cleared away most of the disgusting taste, and by then, Harry was closer to sleep than consciousness.
It must have been around dinner time when Severus appeared with a bowl of broth alongside the potions. While Harry had no appetite, Severus pressed him to try a spoonful or two.
"You won't die from not eating for a few days, but I'd prefer to get a modicum amount of nourishment into you," Severus explained, running a hand over Harry's messy head.
Harry nodded, glumly. "I'll try."
Surprisingly, after he'd taken a few spoonfuls of the delicious broth, he found himself hungry enough to finish the whole bowl.
Severus actually beamed. "Excellent. Do you think you manage a bit of toast?"
"I could try," Harry answered, tentatively.
But when the dry bread appeared, Harry could only swallow a few bites before shaking his head.
"That's all right." With a flick of his wand, Severus Vanished the plate. "Tomorrow, perhaps. Just managing the bowl of broth was more than I had expected on the first day, Harry."
"Er...Dad?" he began, face flushed. "I need to go to the toilet."
Severus, thankfully, showed no sign of disgust, nor did he try to cover up the awkwardness with a joke.
"Of course," he answered, gently, then lifted Harry from the couch/bed.
Severus actually carried Harry to the bathroom, which he'd never live down if Ron or Hermione ever found out, but it would have been slower going to walk propped up against his dad as though he were a ninety year old Muggle. Severus did have to hold him upright when he was in the bathroom, but he looked away. Still, Harry felt embarrassed by his inability to do something so basic.
It was a bit easier when Severus held Harry steady when he washed his hands, and then, brushed his teeth. The taste of mint was far better than the aftertaste of potions, which water could only go so far to clear away.
"You needn't feel embarrassed. When I was contacted the flu a couple of years ago, I was so ill that Madam Pomfrey came over. Between us, and only us, she had me use a bedpan," he told Harry, after they were settled under the covers.
"I reckon I'd die from embarrassment if it had been me," Harry admitted.
"Perhaps I did, and your guardian is a ghost," Severus deadpanned, giving him another hug.
"Ghosts don't have bodies," Harry pointed out, yawning.
"There are exceptions to every rule," Severus remarked, with a chuckle.
Much as Harry didn't want to think of his dad dying--ever--the idea of him figuring out how to return with his body intact was oddly comforting. Even so..."Bet you didn't think of this when you offered to become my guardian," Harry said, yawning again.
To his surprise, Severus simply chuckled. "On the contrary. Caring for an ill child comes with the territory of fatherhood. Now, as you're not entirely unconscious and feel a bit better than before, how would you like a back massage and to hear a bit about your mother and my antics at school?"
"Really?"
"Yes." Severus chuckled, then pulled Harry into his ideal position for a back rub. "Now, as you know, your mother was extremely loyal, but few could get the better of her temper and live to tell the tale..."
The potions didn't last through the night. Sometime after midnight, Harry woke abruptly to the sharp pain in his throat, and the need to expel his insides with coughing.
His stomachache was back, too, in full force.
Severus rose immediately, fetched the necessary potions, and Harry managed a few more hours of sleep before his symptoms returned.
"I'm sorry," he said, miserably, when he found he had soaked the sheets from his sweat.
"You've nothing to apologize for," Severus said, softly. "After the next round of potions and a good bath, you'll feel far better. As far as the sheets go, they take but a few second to sort out."
After forcing down the vile concoctions, and brushed his teeth carefully to remove all remainders of their taste, Harry found himself looking forward to the hot bath. This time, he could undress himself, so Severus turned away until Harry was immersed into the warm, soapy water. Soon, Severus got to work on his hair, and Harry could properly enjoy the long scalp massage. Then, it was back to bed until the potions ran their course.
When Harry looked back, he wasn't surprised to find that the next couple of days passed in a blur. He'd wake up feeling awful, drink down dreadful potions, brush his teeth far more carefully than usual, then relax into the bathtub as Severus went to work on his hair. After dressing in another night shirt, it was back to the couch, always joined by Severus, who would hold him close. Sometimes, when Harry woke up a few hours later, his dad would be reading a book or from a piece of parchment. More potions followed, then rest. Some broth for dinner, along with a mug of tea and a piece of toast. By the end of the second day, Harry managed to finish about half of it. The occasional trip to the loo. Then, bed again.
It would have felt very dull if Harry hadn't felt so ill or just plain tired. As it was, Harry worried enough that--despite assurance to the contrary--Severus would grow tired of caring for a near invalid twelve year old.
Harry knew he was on the mend when he rose on the third morning with only minor symptoms from his illness. Severus still insisted on the usual Potions regime, explaining that if he didn't take them for the required amount of time, he could find himself with a far nastier case of the flu before the winter months officially began.
"Okay," Harry sighed, bracing himself. "How much longer do I need to take these foul things?"
Severus rolled his eyes. "Until Wednesday evening, so you're past the halfway mark. Need I remind you, Harry, that I brewed 'those foul things'?"
Harry swallowed down the mixtures without comment. After his usual glass of water, though, he couldn't help but ask the question that had been brewing in his mind.
"Isn't there a way to make them taste--er--less offensive? I mean, Muggle medications sometimes have flavoring," Harry recalled.
Dudley, on the rare occasion he'd been sick, would always insist on the orange flavoring of the tonic.
"Muggle medications can be effective for Muggle diseases," Severus began, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders, "but I expect even they have limitations. Certain ingredient combinations will likely taste foul or be rendered ineffective, and it's no different for our potions. Oh, there's the occasional one that tastes pleasant, but you cannot simply add honey or sugar or mint to a brew for flavoring, without rendering it useless--if not dangerous."
"I guess that makes sense," Harry agreed. "Anyway, you're the Potions master, not me."
"Indeed," Severus said, dryly. "But your marks have improved significantly since last term, and you may have some talent for the subject I had been too hardheaded to notice."
Harry flushed. "Maybe," he muttered.
"Hardly 'maybe,'" Severus corrected, smoothing Harry's hair.
Or trying to. Some things were a lost cause.
Harry was allowed to return to lessons on Thursday, but instructed that he could not play Quidditch or even fly on his Nimbus until at least the following Thursday.
"What if Wood holds practice?" he protested.
Severus brandished a note. "This states, in Madam Pomfrey's own hand, as much. It adds a bit about the risk to your long-term mental capacity should you fall and crack your head open during practice. Besides," Severus added, a hint of disappointment in his voice, "with your victory against Slytherin and the unannounced match that will follow against Ravenclaw, Oliver Wood would do better giving his team a rest to focus on their studies and staying out of the Heir of Slytherin's way."
"Any leads on that?" Harry pressed.
"None, as those who have been attacked are Petrified and unable to give an account. Moreover, they will remain that way until at least March, given that the Mandrakes can't be rushed along," Severus answered, grimly. "And before you ask if there'a a way we can simply purchase readily available Mandrakes, the answer is no. Well, there's a far longer answer, that your Herbology professor provided, but it bored even me, and would surely send you into a relapse."
"I'll take your word on it, then." Harry took a glance of himself in the mirror. He still looked pale, and Severus thought he'd lost a few pounds in the past week. But he felt fine, at least well enough for lessons, and while he'd be returning to his dad's quarters later that day for the final round of potions and (probably) spending the night, Harry knew he'd be able to manage the day without collapsing after the first lesson. "Thanks for taking care of me, Dad."
Severus drew him into a long hug. "Think nothing of it, child."