Spur of the Moment

Chapter 7

The minutes--or was it hours?--passed excruciatingly slowly. Snape and Harry hadn't spoken to each other since their duel nor had either of them moved from their positions. Snape was still at the teacher's desk and Harry was still on the floor on the opposite side of the room. Only one of them was in pain, however. Harry was still feeling the effects of their duel. His cheek was stinging along with the burn on his arm. His left wrist was hurting as well. He had a feeling it was sprained or something from all the times he had crashed into the desks. He knew there were bruises covering his body now, but he didn't care; he didn't say anything. He had been in worse conditions at the hands of his relatives, let alone his conditions each time he met Voldemort.

Harry knew he could heal some of his injuries himself. The small cuts, at least, but his wand was still over by the teacher's desk where it had rolled the last time he had been thrown into the remaining desks. He didn't want to get up and get it. One, it meant going near Snape and, two, it hurt too much to move. He closed his eyes and sighed, and then decided to try to summon his wand just for the hell of it.

He was somewhat surprised when his wand flew into his hand, but also found he didn't particularly care as now he could heal himself. He had just raised his wand to heal the cut on his thigh when a hand on his arm stopped him. He flinched and pulled away, then looked up at Snape.

"What?" Harry snapped, not caring if he got in trouble. He was a little irritable and for good reason.

"Do you realize what you just did, Potter?" Snape asked, kneeling in front of Harry.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know and I don't care."

"Your wand," Snape said, pointing at Harry's phoenix wand. "Where was it before you got it just now?"

"Over by the teacher's desk where it rolled the last time I went flying into the desks," Harry said with some bitterness.

"How did you get it? You definitely didn't get up and walk," Snape said.

Harry shrugged again. "I don't know. I just wanted my wand, but I didn't want to get up for a couple reasons. It just flew into my hand."

"You did wandless magic," Snape muttered.

"And?" Harry said, wishing Snape would just leave so he could heal himself.

"You don't understand, Potter. Most wizards can't do wandless magic. For those who can, it takes them years of practice to be even adequate at it. You're sixteen and you just summoned your wand from across the room and without meaning to or even thinking about it. It's unbelievable and remarkable," Snape said.

"Well, yay for me then. Another thing to set me apart from everyone else. Now, can I please just heal myself? That's why I wanted my wand in the first place," Harry said, pointing his wand at his thigh again.

"You're injured," Snape muttered again and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, thanks to you," Harry snapped.

"Why didn't you say anything, Potter?" Snape asked, pulling out his own wand and pushing Harry's aside.

"Like you care. You were trying to kill me before. I didn't think it would go over well if I asked you to heal me. Besides, I've had worse. It doesn't matter," Harry said, watching with hidden amazement as Snape healed the cut on his thigh and moved onto the other injuries.

"I may be a bastard, but it doesn't please me to leave you or anyone in a position like this," Snape said, healing the cut on Harry's cheek.

"You did in our last Defence lesson," Harry said. "You made me fly back and then you just left. I had to heal myself that night with Hermione and Ron's help. Well, mostly Hermione. I had tried to find Luna, but, as usual, she's nearly impossible to find."