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"Are you all right? It's nearly time for breakfast. You're usually up and dressed by now," Harry said, leaning forward to kiss him.
Severus winced as his head threatened to explode as the kiss cut off his airflow, but he made no protest.
When Potter pulled back, his gaze was worried. "You've got circles under your eyes. Didn't you sleep well?"
"Kindly lower your voice, and tell me what you remember about last night," Severus demanded in a low whisper.
Potter's face crinkled in a frown that would have been engaging most days, but which Severus was in too much pain to appreciate at the moment.
"We made love. Fantastic love. You let me levitate us," Harry said.
Severus tried not to sigh. "Anything else?"
"I, er, fell asleep right on top of you again immediately afterwards, didn't I?" Harry asked, looking stricken.
How the corners of his lips twitching could make his head pound worse was a mystery to him, but that's what happened. "I'm used to it now, Potter. It's hardly something to lose sleep over."
"Then what . . . I had a nightmare, didn't I? And you . . . fixed it!" Harry's grin nearly melted his aching brain. The smile faded as Harry seemed to concentrate. "I remember it all now. The nightmare started out the same as usual, but . . . but instead of Death Eaters coming to rape me, you came to heal me and rescue me . . . and . . . it was amazing. Bloody amazing. Thank you, Severus, thank you so much."
Harry's mouth latched onto his again and it was several minutes before Potter pulled back.
"I need to talk to you about that," Severus said, his self-consciousness accentuating his physical misery.
"About what?"
"I must . . . apologize. I didn't intend to insert myself into the dream. I wouldn't presume . . . to take such liberties." Severus averted his gaze from Harry's trusting green eyes, unsure how he could explain, let alone offer an excuse for what had happened, especially since he didn't understand how it had happened.
"What are you talking about? Why would you need to apologize? What liberties? Are you crazy? You cured those damn night terrors! Do you think I care how? Unless it's escaped your notice, I enjoy making love to you. It was great!" Harry insisted, with so much Gryffindor enthusiasm that Severus had to look back at him.
"But it wasn't supposed to happen that way. I expended a great deal of energy creating your rescuer -"
"You what? You mean you didn't want to rescue me yourself?" Harry asked, sounding hurt, of all things.
"Potter, my head is about to crack open. I swear on Salazar's grave that I will smite you if you continue along that infantile line."
Gods, now it was injured innocence assaulting him.
"I don't understand. Why would you invent someone to rescue me instead of doing it yourself?" Harry questioned in a slightly more adult tone.
"I was attempting to graft this scenario onto your subconscious. I knew that whatever I invented was going to be with you for the rest of your life. I wouldn't presume to insert myself into . . . so permanent a situation. If in the future you were to grow disenchanted with my charms, you would no doubt find it unpleasant for me to be so deeply embedded in your erotic dreams."
Harry sucked in a noisy breath, as if he'd taken a blow to the solar plexus. For a moment he simply stared at Severus with an unreadable expression in his eyes, and then he reached out to gently stroke the lank hair back from Severus' temple in a soothing rhythm that actually felt like it were reducing his headache. Finally, Potter asked, "So how'd you end up in it then?"
"I don't know. When my creation wavered and transformed, I feared I'd miscalculated the energy requirements and that a Death Eater would reappear. Instead, the handsome hero I invented transformed into myself. I have no explanation to offer," Severus softly confessed.
"You must have used a spell to replace Voldemort's. How did you word your changes?" Harry asked.
Severus thought back on what he'd actually instructed the curse to do. "I changed the scene, saying that the man you loved, the man you trusted more than any other, would enter the cell, heal you, and make passionate love to you."
At first, Severus didn't understand the satisfied, slightly shy smile that claimed Harry's face. "There you have it, then."
"What?" Severus asked, still not seeing.
"You know, for such a bright fellow, you can be pretty dense at times," Harry complained.
"Your point is?" Severus didn't quite snap.
"The subconscious doesn't lie. How could I trust some fantasy you made up more than you? The man I trust more than any other is the one who's been sharing my bed these last two months. That's you, Severus."
Once again the ground seemed to fall out from under him. Harry was right. The subconscious didn't lie, which meant . . . that Harry Potter truly loved him, or at least believed he did. With Harry the two were one and the same.
Severus gulped, trying to think of something to say beyond a blank, "Oh."
Harry spared him the necessity by asking, "How bad is that headache, really?"
"I'll survive," Severus said.
"What you did last night – it wasn't easy, was it?"
"It drained me like an intense duel," Severus admitted. "The curse is tied directly to your sexuality and subconscious. I had to . . . make extensive modifications."
"Rewriting a buried curse like that . . . that's not normally part of those arts. You invented a whole new school of Occlumency and Legilimency , didn't you? Harry asked.
"And then some," Severus sighed.
Quiet for a time, Harry's fingers stroked Severus' temples, and then Harry asked, "Is there anything I can get you or do for you?"
"If you'd summon the headache potion in the blue bottle from the zhaiyuedu.com over my bathroom sink and the Restorative Potion in the brown bottle in my Potions lab storage zhaiyuedu.com, I'd be eternally in your debt," Severus said as lightly as he could.
"You can't summon?" Harry's body froze, his expression passing from worry into fear. "It took that much out of you?"
Severus sighed and refrained from snapping. He'd never been any good at explaining himself, nor had he ever been able to manage civility when he was unwell. But . . . Potter mattered to him, so he made the extra effort. Speaking as though to a very dull child, which was about as polite as he could manage given the circumstances, he said, "Last night I was totally depleted. I couldn't even move. I probably could manage to summon the bottles myself this morning, but . . . it would make my headache worse. You did offer -"
"Of course," Harry said. A few seconds later, the two bottles floated through the open bedroom and bathroom doors respectively over to the bed.
Harry plucked them out of the air and handed them to him.
Severus uncapped the blue bottle first and drank down the bitter contents, then the brown.
Harry's worried gaze followed his every move. When he'd finished the last of the Restorative draught, Harry shifted on the bed until he was sitting behind him, with his back to the headboard and his athletic thighs surrounding Severus' hips. Harry's hands came around his chest and guided him back to rest against him.
The warmth was wonderful. Severus released a deep breath, and pillowed his aching head against Harry's left collarbone.
Pressing his lips to Severus' right temple, Harry gently stroked his chest in a soothing pattern.
Slowly, the agony in his skull abated as the potions took effect. Severus no longer felt as though a niffler were burrowing its way through his cerebellum. Now it was simply an extremely potent headache.
"Will you be able to teach today?" Harry questioned a while later.
