Tempus Fugit DRARRY

Chapter 13: Patience

I believe in you, and I don't really give a damn
If we're stigmatised
We live our lives on different sides
But we keep together you and I
We live our lives on different sides

Stigmatised - The Calling

Whatever the instrument sticking out of his mouth was measuring, Draco was certain it wasn't his temperature. Shaped like a thermometer, it was fashioned from glass and a silver line embedded inside it was rising alongside a scale written in some arcane symbols that Draco had never seen before. He was studying it closely while holding it in his mouth as instructed when Snape came in and raised one eyebrow at him.

"You've gone cross-eyed again, Draco," he said mildly. Draco mumbled something around the instrument that was completely unintelligible which Snape wisely chose to ignore. He and Harry had woken up from their magical unconsciousness only the day before and since that morning their hours had been filled with rigorous examinations from Madam Pomfrey and the Potions Master. Madam Pomfrey had clucked her tongue at him disapprovingly and tried to put him back to bed again, proving remarkably forceful for so birdlike a woman. Snape, on the other hand, was treating him like a rather interesting science experiment. Draco wasn't sure which was the lesser of the two evils.

"Arnchoodonyed?" Draco said.

Snape looked amused. "Excuse me?" he asked.

Draco scowled and took out the instrument from his mouth. "I said, aren't you done yet?"

"Very well." Snape took the instrument out of his hands and tapped it with his wand. "You are, without a doubt, the worst invalid I have ever had the misfortune to tend," he said. "I suggest you spend at least a few minutes considering everything it means to be a patient, including all definitions of the term."

"I'm not an invalid," Draco protested, ignoring the comment.

"Of course you're not," Snape muttered absent-mindedly, his long, eagle feather quill making notes all by itself on a piece of parchment. They went on in silence for a few moments, Draco staring at the fascinating specimen cabinet, his eyes drawn to a small jar into which a dead octopus had been squeezed.

"Draco?" Snape broke him out of his reverie and Draco glanced up to see the Potions Master taking a seat beside him, a look of concern on his face.

"Hmm?"

"I know that you thought I reprimanded you a little harshly yesterday," Snape said slowly.

"I never said that." He had entertained the idea briefly but hadn't given it much thought.

"You didn't have to," Snape said wryly, his mouth quirking into a faint smirk. "Your glower spoke volumes."

Draco sighed in a long-suffering manner. "It's a family thing. It comes with the name. You should see my father's when the house elves iron a crease in his trousers," he said, grinning slightly. "It's terrifying."

"Yes, quite." Snape coughed decorously. "What I mean is, I want you to know that it was out of concern that I spoke to you like that."

Draco narrowed his eyes for a moment, wondering where this conversation was heading as it was completely out of character for Snape to express any semblance of paternal concern. Draco knew it was there, but it was more usual for it to be conveyed through a quick nod and instructions to take care of himself. He supposed their sudden unconsciousness must have caused more anxiety than he thought. "I know that," he said. "Severus, is everything alright?"

"Yes of course," Snape replied at once, not quite looking at Draco. "I merely wanted to make you aware of how worried I was for your well-being. You may not always see it, Draco," he sighed, "but I am very fond of you." He fixed Draco's eyes with his own, which were dark for such sallow skin, and seemed shot with obsidian.