Chapter 8

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Despite the comfort of Severus' words and the reassurance of Umbridge's 'misfortunes', Harry found himself picking at his food rather than eating. His appetite was still absent, his stomach churning with nerves. However, he did his best to hide his lack of hunger, not wanting to worry Severus further.

The potions master, of course, noticed. He watched as Harry prodded at his food, his gaze sharp. But instead of calling him out on it, he merely shook his head, letting the matter rest. After all, he knew better than anyone how stress could affect one's appetite. They ate in silence, the calm before the storm that was Madam Pomfrey's visit.

"Potter, are you even trying?" Severus finally said, breaking the silence. His tone was pointed, his gaze fixed on the barely-eaten plate of food.

Harry glanced up from his plate, meeting Severus' gaze briefly before looking away. "I'm not that hungry, sir," he replied, his voice small.

Severus huffed, seemingly unimpressed. "That's evident," he said, his tone dry. He pushed his own empty plate away, his meal finished. "However, considering the state you're in, I would rather not be blamed for you wasting away."

With that, he stood, moving to a nearby cupboard. He pulled out a small vial filled with a familiar liquid - a nutrition potion. He walked back to the table, sliding the vial across to Harry. "Here, drink this. It should at least help until you regain your appetite."

Harry just stared at the potion, his gaze thoughtful. He seemed to be considering his options, but made no move to take the vial.

The silence stretched on, growing heavier with each passing moment. Finally, Severus sighed, his patience thinning. "Potter," he said, his voice stern. "Your body needs the nutrition."

Still, Harry did nothing, the weight of the situation seemingly keeping him anchored in place. His face was pale, his eyes dark with exhaustion. The sight of him like this, so vulnerable, made something inside Severus clench.

Heaving a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. "Harry," he said, softer this time. He reached out, gently pushing the vial closer to the young wizard. "It's not poison. Just... drink it. Please."

A moment of silence hung heavy between them. Severus had never used his first name before. Hearing it now, coming from Severus of all people, was enough to startle him, yanking him out from his preoccupied thoughts. The surprise was evident on his face; his brows knitted together in confusion, a visible uncertainty painting his expression.

"Harry," Severus had said. The name echoed inside Harry's head, bouncing around, replaying itself in a loop. A feeling of shock rippled through him. He wasn't sure what to make of it. It wasn't a reprimand or even uttered in the usual snide, sarcastic tone. It was a plea, a genuine request, softer than any words he'd heard from the man before.

He looked up at Severus, catching his intense gaze, which held an uncharacteristic trace of concern. It was unnerving. The corners of his mouth twitched as he watched Severus push the potion vial closer to him. It felt surreal, a scenario that Harry would never have predicted.

'Is he really that worried?' Harry wondered. His professor had been behaving oddly since they had discovered Umbridge had cast the cruciatus curse on him. What with Umbridge, sleeping almost all day, waking up in the middle of the night due to his perceived weakness, now barely touching his food. It wasn't like him, and he hated to be perceived as weak. 'Does he think I'm turning into a basket case?' The idea gnawed at him, making him uncomfortable. He wasn't himself, and it seemed to have put Severus in an unfamiliar state of concern.

His thoughts whirled inside his head. An uncomfortable truth stared at him in the face: Harry had been slipping, his strength waning. It wasn't just about not eating his food or not wanting to drink the potion. It was deeper than that. It was about letting Umbridge win and having the adults fight her and not letting him participate, being hidden away like a fragile piece of china.

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