Unforgivable Umbridge

Chapter 7

Severus slipped back into his quarters, the door creaking shut behind him, echoing in the silence of the room. The light from the dying embers of the fire cast an eerie, dim glow around the place. The day had been strenuous, every moment of it dominated by either his classes, the staff meeting, or the worries about Potter and Umbridge. But now, he finally had a moment of solitude, a chance to collect his thoughts.

In the quiet solitude of his quarters, Severus found his mind drifting back to the staff meeting earlier that day. The image of Umbridge, with her toad-like face twisted in a perpetual scowl, was vivid in his mind. She had spent the better part of the meeting berating Potter, her voice shrill and grating as she complained about his defiance. Severus could still hear her words, echoing in his mind, a relentless tirade against the boy who lived.

He remembered how Minerva had stepped in, her voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of irritation. She had defended Potter, as was her duty, but there was a certain lack of conviction in her words. Severus had caught her eye across the table, a silent understanding passing between them. They both knew the game they were playing, the roles they had to perform for the sake of appearances.

And then it had been his turn. He had spoken against Potter, his words harsh and biting. But he had felt a strange emptiness as he did so. There was no venom in his words, no real anger. It was all a performance, a mask he wore. And he knew, as he looked around the room, that the others had seen through it. They had seen the lack of true malice in his words, the absence of real hatred. But Umbridge, in her blind fury, had missed it entirely.

Severus shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts. The meeting was over, and there was no point dwelling on it. He had played his part, and now it was time to focus on the present.

His eyes traveled to the couch, seeing Harry still sleeping there peacefully. A sigh escaped him, one filled with a strange mix of frustration and relief. Frustration because, even asleep, Potter seemed to have a way of drawing attention, and relief because, despite the tremors and the stress, the boy seemed safe for now.

Severus moved towards the couch, sinking into the armchair next to it. He studied Harry's sleeping form, his forehead furrowed as he took in the sight. It was hard to believe that this sleeping boy was the very person causing such chaos within the castle's walls. Harry's face, usually etched with determination, was peaceful in sleep, the creases of worry smoothed out temporarily. Severus found himself hoping that the boy was faring better in his dreams.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to distract himself from the present problems. His eyes drifted to the parchment on his desk - a list of potion ingredients he needed for his upcoming classes. Going over it, he distracted his mind from Potter and Umbridge, focusing instead on the mundane task at hand. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

About an hour later, he saw Harry stir slightly. Severus moved from his armchair to sit on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of him. He reached out and gently shook Harry's shoulder, attempting to rouse him from his sleep. It took a moment, but Harry's eyes slowly fluttered open. The look of confusion on his face was quickly replaced by recognition.

"Potter," Severus greeted, a hand moving to feel the boy's forehead, checking for any signs of fever. Finding none, he continued, "Did you sleep the entire time I was away?"

Harry blinked a few times, looking around the room as though trying to get his bearings. He then nodded, his voice still hoarse from sleep as he replied, "Yeah, I guess I did."

"And how are you feeling?" Severus asked, withdrawing his hand from Harry's forehead. The concern in his voice was subtle, but it was there nonetheless, his eyes searching Harry's face for any indication of discomfort.