He felt terrible, really he did. While he watched his mate with pity, the look of dismay remaining firmly etched in Ron’s features, he vaguely minded the clinking of glasses as Professor Slughorn poured them some of the promised oak-matured mead. But it was difficult to give Ron the support he might need when there were more pressing matters at hand. It had been a while since he’d managed to get Slughorn nearly on his own, and seeing this as some kind of chance—though he had yet to decide how to broach the subject, again, without risking such abrupt dismissal a second time—he hoped to be able to keep the man in a good enough mood to give getting that memory from him another go. Though Harry didn’t see that happening unless he somehow got Professor Slughorn to drink more than just one glass of mead.
“There you are then,” said Slughorn, and he handed Harry and Ron a glass of mead each, before raising his own in a toast. “A very happy birthday, Rudolph!”
Harry would’ve corrected him if he hadn’t thought Ron wouldn’t care, the redhead who was busy glancing balefully into the glass as if reminded of Hagrid’s homemade drink that had made him so terribly ill. Miming Slughorn and raising his glass into the air before bringing it to his lips he, unlike the Professor, didn't bother to wait for Ron to drink with them as he took a big swallow of the golden liquid. He needed some courage in him before he could attempt what Dumbledore had asked of him again.
From the moment he'd swallowed Harry realized his drink had been laced with something. A sharp, burning pain pooled inside his stomach and shot upward, accompanied by bile that came spilling from his mouth before he got a chance to even lift a hand in an attempt to forestall it. There was no time to speak up, to ask for help. He only gurgled, clutched at his throat while trying to gasp for air, and the glass he held slipped from his fingers to shatter on the floor, a distant sound now as he felt as though his entire body was ablaze with fire. The room began to spin upside down and around; his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body collapsed onto the floor with a resounding thud.
It felt like only moments later when he awoke to the distant sounds of his friends’ voices, hushing one another as he gave a faint but pained groan. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know he was in the Hospital Wing. Lifting an arm that felt like lead Harry rubbed at his aching head.
“Harry, Harry?” came Hermione’s voice, ringing with worry. “Oh Harry, you’re all right!”
“Well Madam Pomfrey said he would be,” said Ron gruffly, as Harry finally managed to open his eyes and look blearily at his friends crowding around the bed he occupied. To his surprise, it wasn’t just Ron and Hermione who had come to see him, but Fred, George and—his heart gave a little flutter—Ginny. He wasn’t sure what the Weasley twins were doing in Hogwarts, but didn’t think to ask, just assumed they were here for his birthday.
“What?” he said, his voice hoarse. He was parched and he could still feel the remnants of bile burning his throat. “Was I poisoned?” His brows knotted in a frown when they shook their heads.
“Yeah…well no,” said Ron, who looked almost as pale as Harry when he began to retell the story of what had occurred. “I was about to drink that mead when I heard you fall to the floor. I don’t think Slughorn noticed until I called your name. He ran to get help when you started twitching and continued to puke all over yourself. But the weird thing is, when we brought you here Madam Pomfrey couldn’t find what was wrong with you. Whatever potions she poured down your throat didn’t change anything.”
“Hang on,” said Fred, leaning forward, “the poison was in the drink?”
“Madam Pomfrey said it wasn’t a poison,” Hermione interjected.
“What do you reckon it was then?” Ron snapped, glaring over his shoulder at her.
“I don’t know!” she huffed, and when it became clear that she would begin to insist that Pomfrey was more of an expert than Ron could ever be, Fred spoke before she could make her point and initiate yet another fight between herself and their younger brother.
“We don’t know what else to call it. And Madam Pomfrey herself said that his symptoms could’ve been related to poisoning. So let’s just assume, for now, that he was poisoned.”
“Yeah,” added Ron, finally lifting his irritated glare off Hermione and looking towards his brother.
“Would he have been able to slip something into your glass without you seeing?” asked George, who stood beside his twin brother near the end of the bed.
Harry lifted his green eyes to the ceiling in thought. “Probably,” he said after a moment, though he had his doubts about that. Even if Slughorn wanted to get him at a distance as much as possible, Harry didn’t think he’d resort to poisoning. And even if by the off chance he would have, it wouldn’t have been such an inept poison that apparently had only caused him to feel like his insides were on fire, vomit all over himself and lose consciousness, only to wake an hour later, more or less fine.
“But why would he want to poison Harry?” said Hermione, apparently having decided that Fred’s words had made some sense, although she still seemed ready to argue the point most thoroughly.
“There are loads of people who’d love to poison ‘The Chosen One’,” said George grimly.
“Yeah, but Slughorn loves Harry,” Ron muttered, looking annoyed, as he often would whenever the subject of Slughorn’s adoration for Harry came up.
“Unless you’re accusing him of being a Death Eater…” murmured Ginny, speaking up for the first time. She’d been standing furthest from Harry’s bed, looking a few shades paler too. Harry liked to think she’d been worried sick about him.
“Anything’s possible,” said Fred. “He could’ve been under the Imperius Curse. Or maybe it’s someone else, impersonating him using Polyjuice Potion. You know, like with Mad-Eye Moody.”
At that, Harry’s heart sank. It wasn’t exactly something he liked to remember, and the notion that someone else might attempt the same trick Barty Crouch had managed was one he was even less willing to entertain.
“Or,” Ginny began, shifting closer towards the bed and nudging George out of the way. “He could be innocent. The poison could have been in the bottle, and in that case it was meant for Slughorn himself.”
But then came the question of who would want to kill the Professor, Harry thought, then recalled Slughorn mentioning he had intended to gift the bottle of mead to Dumbledore, and his heart sank a little further. There were plenty of people who wanted the Headmaster dead, too.
“Whatever the case, whoever tried to poison their target failed, didn’t they?” said Ginny, folding her arms. She and her siblings looked relieved at that conclusion. Hermione on the other hand didn’t seem very convinced. Though Madam Pomfrey had assured them that Harry was as healthy as ever, Hermione had never heard of a “poison” that first worked, and then suddenly stopped, vanished, without so much as a trace in the system. Harry recognized the slight crease between his friends’ brows, knew that she would soon be bolting for the library to do research. He wryly smiled at her.
“If it helps, I’m fine,” Harry offered, and at that moment Madam Pomfrey decided to burst in on them, immediately beginning to fuss with the curtains.
“Right you are Mr. Potter, you’re just fine. But I’m keeping you here for observation. Just in case!” she added sternly when Harry’s friends showed signs of protest. “Now out with you all, he needs his rest.”
“Well, you better be fit to play Quidditch,” said Ron as he and the rest of them marched out of the Hospital Wing.
“Happy birthday Ron,” Harry called out after them, even though the curtains had already been drawn. He imagined he could see his friend grin though, and laid himself back down as he was left on his own again, falling asleep as quickly as though he hadn’t just been sleeping at all.
End Chapter 1
This is my first Snarry fic, ever. It was inspired by Perfica's Care of Infants. It's not an expansion on her fanfic, but it does borrow some of her ideas in the beginning.
The books Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows are weaved into this. Therefore it is assumed that you've read both. If not, expect some spoilers and for some things to just not make any sense.
Thanks to Yunneshel92 for beta-reading this as well as she has. You can find her on Walking The Plank.
And thanks to Annie for proof-reading. It's greatly appreciated. =]