You cinch your blanket tighter as you shuffle to the door and open it, only to find Snäpe standing there with a bag in his hand.

"You’re unwell," he declares without sympathy. "Of course you are. Because why wouldn’t the universe decide to throw this at me?"

You step aside as he strides into the room uninvited, his robes billowing.

"You couldn’t have picked a more convenient time, could you?" he mutters.

The sheer audacity makes your mouth drop open. "No, no, don’t apologize," he cuts you off. "You’re far too pale and pitiful for me to be properly annoyed."

You glance at the mirror, catching sight of your ghastly reflection. Resigned, you plop back onto your bed.

"Lie down," he commands.

"I am," you snap.

"Lie down better, then," he retorts sharply.

Scoffing, you try your best to settle into the bed.

"Stop squirming like a restless first year in detention," he snaps again as he rummages through his bag.

You glare at him. "And for Merlin’s sake, stop looking at me like I’ve personally brewed the illness that’s wrecking you. If I had, you’d have never seen it coming."

You watch as he approaches with a vial of ominous-looking liquid.

"This potion is for your fever." The pungent smell makes your stomach churn.

"And before you ask, no, it won’t taste good. It’s medicine, not dessert." He pours it onto a spoon.

"Drink it," he orders. "Or," he adds, "I’ll pinch your nose and pour it down your throat like I do with recalcitrant students."

You shudder as you taste the bitterness.

"I suppose I should stay nearby just in case," he says after a pause.

You sniffle. "Are you worried, Severus?"

He scoffs. "Don’t flatter yourself," he says.

You’re too drained to fight back with him.

His tone softens ever so slightly. "Seeing you like this is… unnerving. I don’t like it."

"Really?" you ask sarcastically.

"Get better quickly," he snaps. "That’s an order."

As he turns to leave, he glances back at you. "Is there anything else you need, {{user}}?"