Understanding what his father meant, Harry relaxed his fingers. "All right. I'll just keep on being his brother until he can see me that way. Really see me that way."
For that was what Snape had done for him, of course. He'd been a father before Harry had been ready to be a son.
"When Draco wakes up is it going to start all over again?"
Snape sighed. "Most likely yes. Assuming he brewed the poison correctly, though I have very little doubt of that."
"Yeah, Draco's good at Potions," said Harry morosely. "I guess it's not a coincidence that he decided to get even with Slytherin by using one. I think it was a way of thumbing his nose at you."
Snape merely shrugged, which told Harry the man had thought of that already. "Shall we finish our game?" And when Harry shook his head, "It will be hours before Draco wakes next. You should do something to occupy your mind."
"Well, I've lost that one already," Harry said, pointing to the chessboard. "Let's start another, then."
Harry lost twice more before they heard another noise from the bedroom.
Not screaming, not this time. Something more like whimpers.
Snape went to Draco's bedside while Harry hung back near the door, but this time it didn't seem Draco's fears were centred on his brother. Neither was he awake. He was thrashing in bed, caught in the grip of a nightmare, reciting a babble of Latin that didn't make any sense.
Then he switched to English, swearing that he'd try harder, that he'd get better marks next time. "Better than the mudblood, yes, yes," he panted. "I promise, Father. I promise--"
And then the screams did start again, and Draco came awake for them, scrabbling up to hold tight to a bedpost as he wailed and wailed for his father to stop.
A wizard's beating, Harry realised, shaking as he watched it.
Snape tried to help. Yanking Draco away from the bedpost, he pulled him into a tight embrace and simply held him, but Draco was beyond all consolation. Caught in the grip of the poison, he kept screaming on and on, flinching violently as though his back and sides and legs were being flayed wide open.
And then his screams became truly horrendous.
Clearly, something else was happening inside his mind, something so awful that he began shaking all over, fighting Snape's hold as though he was possessed. He managed to work an arm free at one point. Reaching up, he tried to pull Snape's hair out by the roots.
Snape swung it out of reach and pinned the boy's arm to his body once more.
Then Draco went still. Completely still, not even breathing. Harry thought he'd lapsed back into a coma again. Or perhaps fainted, because the boy's legs suddenly couldn't support him. Draco slumped against his father, almost falling, but Snape easily scooped him up and carrying him, strode out to the living room where he sat down in a chair, Draco cradled across his lap.
Harry sat on the edge of the sofa, biting his lip as he watched. "Is he all right?"
Using one hand to brush Draco's fringe aside, Snape felt his son's forehead. "We're past the first stage."
Harry knew what that meant. There shouldn't be any more delusions; no more reliving of fears. But now the poison was going to wreak physical havoc on Draco's body, something that was beginning already, for the boy was starting to shiver all over, his teeth actually chattering.
"C- C- Cold," he stammered, eyes clenched as though the chills sweeping through him hurt. He started burrowing more closely against Snape, obviously trying to draw warmth from him.
Snape held him closer and said nothing except, "Blankets, Harry," when Draco began trying to work his hands in between the buttons on his father's shirt, as though seeking warm skin to chase out the cold.
Once Draco was wrapped warmly from head to toe, only his face peeking out, he seemed to calm. Leaning against Snape, his cheek pressed to the man's chest, he began breathing normally again.
Eyes closed, he drifted into sleep, held securely in his father's arms.
Harry sat down again, his brow furrowing into thought. "Why did you want blankets instead of a warming charm?"
Snape glanced up, his black eyes tired. "Applying magic to the symptoms will only prolong them. Many poisons are thus."
"Is that why Madame Pomfrey's spells to stop your bleeding failed? When you were poisoned on your birthday?" When Snape nodded, Harry went on, "But she had an antidote handy?"
"Why would you think that?"
Thinking his father sounded annoyed, Harry was going to leave this discussion for another time, but Snape prompted him with an intense glance.
"Well, Dobby said that Madame Pomfrey said you were a good Potions Master."
"She said it was good I was a Potions Master," Snape corrected, moving to shift Draco to a more comfortable position. "Long exposure to dangerous potions ingredients has given me some measure of resistance to their effects. Hence, the contents of that chocolate cauldron were debilitating but not life-threatening."
"Why didn't you..." Harry broke off, deciding it wasn't the right time.
But Snape was having none of it. "You want to know why I didn't tell you? I wanted you to feel safe at Hogwarts, Harry. You'd agreed to the adoption primarily in order to secure the warding, which will fail if I should die, you realise. You had nightmares enough to surmount, without fearing that poison directed at me could leave you defenceless."
"Yeah, but as your son didn't you think I had a right to know that sort of thing?" When his father didn't answer that, Harry prompted, "It's not like I didn't give you plenty of openings. How many times did I go on about you needing to eat? You could have told me why you were reluctant."
"I could have, yes." Snape had one arm beneath Draco's shoulders. He used the other to rub the side of his nose. "You were already critical of how I was handling Mr. Weasley's punishment, Harry. I didn't care to give you any further cause to doubt my judgment, and I thought if you knew about the chocolate cauldron..." Snape's voice went very quiet.
Harry earnestly leaned forward. "Look, I know it's easy to blame yourself when things go wrong. I do a lot of that, but it's really out of place this time. It's not your fault someone slipped you poison. I bet it was tasteless and odourless and there was no way you could have known."
Snape smiled slightly, the expression rather strained. "I suppose I should have had more faith in you, but the prospect of losing your respect was simply too daunting."
"Oh, Dad..." Harry reached out under the blankets wrapping Draco and patted his father's knee. "If watching you convince my brother to eat a poisoned cake didn't make me think badly of you--and it didn't, all right?--then why would this?"
"It goes back to Occlumency," Snape sighed. "To the things I taught you about hiding your true thoughts by letting Voldemort see harmless memories. How do you think he knew I received a chocolate cauldron every January ninth? I let him see it, along with my genuine annoyance that Albus insists on marking the date. I embellished the memory with disdain, and let him think it one more reason I had to despise the headmaster of Hogwarts. I saw no harm in his knowing about my annual birthday present. But as I came to learn, I had misjudged the matter."
"You are handing me weapons," Harry murmured, nodding. When his father flinched, Harry patted the man's knee again. "It's all right. You didn't know you were."
"True, but there you were, vulnerable without your magic and utterly dependent on me. A responsibility I took more seriously than you can imagine. Perhaps when you are a father yourself... at any rate, though, I was hardly eager to give you cause to doubt not only my judgment but also everything I had taught you about Occlumency. For it was my failure there that led to my being poisoned."
Draco stirred, his eyelashes fluttering open.
Harry went to kneel alongside his brother so he could see him better. "How are you doing?"