A/N{Author's Note}: This story is a redo of one I had written 4 years ago (which used to be on here). It's not the best, several characters will still be OOC, but I hope that at least now much of the grammatical mistakes, continuity errors, and unanswered questions will be resolved. It is also very possible given my history of dropping stories suddenly that this rewrite may not get finished. I hope, however, that it will be finished.

Chapter 1

Harry's eyes were dry and red from the stress that rushed through him in nonstop waves. Earlier that morning, he had to come back to Hogsmeade after nearly five months of Horcrux-hunting. His goal was to look for a way into Hogwarts. Of course, that didn't turn out quite as the young man had planned, as he'd met with his dying Potions Professor inside of the Shrieking Shack and obtained his memories in various silver strands. After Harry had managed to finish off Voldemort, he felt the need to view those memories as soon as humanly possible.

It was an emotional rollercoaster from start to finish. Harry witnessed for a second time the outright abuse his father and godfather had committed, and that made the pit of his stomach drop. The hatred that he'd once held for Severus started to dissipate when Harry watched the man weeping over Lily's lifeless form and groveling at Dumbledore's feet for forgiveness after leading Voldemort straight to Godric's Hollow. After seeing everything from the man's past condensed to just the most heart aching and precious memories that Snape could muster, Harry couldn't help the fear that spread throughout him. Though he didn't forgive Snape for his abusive actions towards him and his friends, Harry's need to have his questions answered easily outweighed the notion of accepting Snape's death. He feared that the dark wizard was already dead, unable to answer the questions he had, and that dread coursed through his very being. Even the neglect, malnourishment, and occasional whacks over the head at the Dursleys had never had him so set in a continuous fight-or-flight state as the prospect of so many unanswered questions did.

Green eyes darted feverishly around the snowy banks as the Boy-Who-Lived ran for his target. "Gotta find him, gotta find him." He hoarsely muttered to himself as he clenched his hands into fists. His neck stiffened with each corner that he rounded until finally the dilapidated hovel of a shack came into view.

From a sprint to a run, Harry shot into the Shrieking Shack like a hound on a trail. He made his way directly to where he last saw Snape. A hard pulse thumped painfully in his throat as he stared to the lifeless form of the double spy. "No…" His breath hitched as a sudden strained intake of air sounded off from the Potions Master. "You're not allowed to die you git!"

In a flash, Harry knelt by his ex-Potion Professor's side and a shiver ran through his body as he gazed to the shredded hole in the man's neck. He pushed past the discomfort and grabbed onto Snape's arm. Within seconds, they were transported to the very edge of the wards surrounding Hogwarts. "Mobilicorpus!" Harry shouted as he charmed the man to float just in front of him. Soon they were off, headed inside the castle walls, up the stairs, and straight for the infirmary.

The large double doors of the hospital wing burst open as the two made a beeline for one of the few empty beds still left in the area. Madame Pomfrey barked orders towards one of the four assistants that had been sent over from Saint Mungo's, and soon she spied the professor from the corner of her eye. Dark blood leaked down from the man's neck at a steady pace and a growing stain washed over the white cotton sheets beneath him as she jogged over to the scene.

With a yank of her wand, Madame Pomfrey paralyzed the professor to keep him from being able to move and she made a break for the potions cabinet. "Potter, get gauze and bezoar, fast; before he loses too much blood!" She rattled off as she snatched three potions from the shelves. "Who- or what did this?"

"Nagini-" Harry told her as he dashed across the room and looked through the supply drawers for the gauze he would need. Wrinkles formed on his forehead. "-she was Voldemort's snake… but her venom is supposed to be incurable."

"Ohh, pish-tosh." The woman scoffed as she rushed back to Snape's bedside. "There isn't a poison in the world that this man hasn't created an antidote to, and I have this." With a pop of the cork, a rather tiny potion sizzled as it made contact with the air. Once it stopped the ruckus, she poured the shimmering brown liquid over and into the wound on Severus' neck. "He said it was an accidental creation, a cure-all, for any poison, venom, or rash."

With no specifics to go on, the young man wasn't sure which roll of gauze Madame Pomfrey wanted, so instead of chancing the wrong one, he loaded his arms with one roll of every kind. He snatched the bezoar from one of the drawers he'd seen it in earlier then ran back to the medi-witch and dumped them on the table beside her. "You aren't allowed to die, you bastard!" He hissed towards the professor.

"Mr. Pott- watch your language! Please." Another group of the injured was rushed into the infirmary. With a glance to the ceiling, Madame Pomfrey heaved a sigh and jumped right back into her work. "Go make yourself useful. Call Saint Mungo's, tell them we haven't got enough healers."

Harry nodded and he was off to the floo in her office. He scattered a handful of floopowder into the fireplace and stuck his head into the flickering green flames. "Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries! Hello? He- eh, hello? I'm calling from Hogwarts, we need more healers."

A rough and grisly Scottish voice called out from the fiery abyss. "We're runnin' on men and women who've barely gotten into the field, make do with what you have!" Flames lowered and the neon glow on Potter's face faded as the line was cut off.

"Rude…" Harry growled before he took off back into sickbay. Breathy and partially garbled demands came from Snape's bed and Harry ran towards them.

"Let go…" Black eyes flashed cold as the dark wizard took in a sharp, loud breath and his cheek twitched just slight enough to have been noticed. "-of me!" Severus demanded as his arm jerked away from her pull. A second intense gasp for air and another wince, but this time it was accompanied by a grunt. "I'm fine!"

Thin fingers reached out and yanked the man back down to his bed by his robes. "You lay back down, this instant!" Pomfrey shrieked towards him. "The bones in your neck are exposed yo- you are bleeding through to the mattress! I will restrain you if necessary."

Wrinkles returned to Harry's forehead as he hustled to the man's bedside. His hands clenched Severus' ankles firmly. Contact was brief as within seconds, leather straps formed between their skins and plunged through the sheets and mattress. His grip moved up to the struggling potions master's wrists. After a few moments of back and forth, Harry managed to get Snape's hands on the bed and straps shot out quicker than before.

The young man gave a sharp flick of his hands as he released the professor. "You are going to do whatever Madame Pomfrey tells you to. You are going to get better. You will be alive to answer my questions." He gave a tug on one of the straps. "These are for your own good."

That glare which set in on Severus' face could have rivaled the likes of Voldemort on a bad day. A low gurgle and growl escaped from his throat. It hurt far too much to try talking again. In a huff of resignation, his head hit the pillow. His face scrunched and he held his breath for a couple of seconds as the pain surged. When it died off as much as it would, Severus turned his head and bore his neck to the medi-witch.

Harry shook his head and looked back to Madame Pomfrey as she poured potions in and down Snape's throat. "Saint Mungo's told us to work with what we have." He relayed as she instructed him to hold a wad of gauze.

"Professor, you're going to be in a lot of pain in a moment, I highly suggest breaking your 'no pain potions' rule considering the circumstances." Madame Pomfrey told him. She clenched her teeth as she tried desperately to ignore that display of wordless, wandless magic that Harry had just done.

A displeasured grunt came but Severus agreed to the potion with a sore nod. Thin dry lips spread to talk, but no sound came other than a pained grunt. Carefully, Harry studied the man to try to figure out what he had attempted to say. Finally, he went to gather a quill and parchment from Madame Pomfrey's desk.

When he returned, he held his hand out over Snape's right wrist and the strap disappeared from it. He handed the pen to the man and held out the pad for him to write on.

Soon the dark wizard began to write on the page. Fine. With a snap of his fingers, Severus brought Madame Pomfrey's attention to the document. After she glared at him for the way in which he garnered her attention, she gave a satisfied nod. Severus looked to Harry and stared for a few moments with his lips pressed flat. Once again, he set in to writing. Wordless/wandless magic? Since when?

Horrible gurgles mingled with a scream from Severus as Madame Pomfrey poured the potion into the gaping hole of the man's neck. Snape clenched his hand and the quill he held snapped in two.

The boy took his bottom lip between his teeth and peeled a layer of skin away before he managed to force his body to relax. It's just a wound; it'll heal like all other wounds. He told himself. "I realized I could do it after I killed Voldemort." He admitted. After he cleared his throat, the young man noticed the blank stare on Snape's face and he elaborated. "Er, he broke my wand, and then when he died there was a big rush of magic. I wandered where my wand was, and boom," He slapped the back of one hand into the palm of the other for added emphasis. "-it was like I'd accio'd it right into my hand. Since then, if I try hard enough, I can pretty much do whatever I want magically, as long as I know the spell for it already."

Air rushed from his lungs as Severus flopped his head back onto the pillow. With wide eyes and a rigid and serious expression, his head moved just enough to stare to the broken quill. Once the Brat-Who-Lived had replaced it, Snape only had one thing to share. This is bad.

"Wait, what's wrong with that?" Harry demanded indignantly. "More power is supposed to be a good thing. It's why we go to school, duh."

Fury and perhaps a glint of fear reflected in the potion master's eyes and soon he was scribbling at full speed. It isn't good when it's received upon someone's death! Foolish Gryffindor; use that space in between your ears that supposedly holds a brain for more than a HAT RACK!

A haughty laugh escaped Harry's throat. "You're lying there, dying in a hospital bed, blood from a huge wound soaking your back, and yet still you find the time to insult my intelligence. Yes, I have my reservations about this and what it could mean, but I will not run myself ragged with worry until I have proof." The muscles in his calves tensed and the young man shifted his stance wider. "Is that not something you have tried to teach us; never accept things at face value?" His hand shot down to the man's wrist and the restraint was swiftly replaced. "It seems that you are the one who should use your brain, and learn to stop insulting people who just saved your life!" Suddenly the quill and pad were snatched away, and Harry stormed off for the large double doors. "I hope you can't talk for a month, 'cause you're certainly not getting this back."

Every single day, Harry showed up in the infirmary to help Madame Pomfrey and the few healers they had on loan from Saint Mungo's with their duties. As he was no longer enrolled in school there, due to his adventures seeking horcruxes, Harry had volunteered as a helping-hand. It was easy enough to ignore Snape as not only was Harry's plate currently full since so many required aid, the Potions Master still hadn't managed to regain his ability to speak, though he had 'earned' his freedom from the leather restraints at Madame Pomfrey's insistence.

Even after a week had passed since their argument, Harry still felt the sting of the insult flung at him. Though the young man remained quite angry with Snape for all manner of past infractions, that anger was mild in comparison to the relief he felt from the knowledge that the man who held so many answers was still alive.

Harry's evening meal-break quickly approached and his mind wandered to what would be served in the Great Hall. Strange gurgles in a sharp intake of breath sounded off from Snape's bed which snared Harry's attention. The young man glanced up from 4th year girl whose arm he had begun to wrap just in time to hear the throaty, sloshy voice of his once-instructor. "Pot…ter."

"A moment, Professor." With a gentle tug Harry wrapped the tail end of the bandage around the girl's forearm and tucked it into the bottom. A forced smile that only shone from his mouth and left his eyes bleak formed as he gingerly patted her wrist. "Don't worry Audrey, you'll be fine in a few days." He whispered.

A sigh escaped his mouth as Harry moved back and walked towards Severus. He stood beside the man's bed with a rather dour expression. "What?" He demanded as his arms crossed over his chest.

"You took…" Another rough gasp of air sounded from the man's throat. "His power." Snape worked out.

"Yeah, so I gathered." Harry muttered as he glanced down to his somewhat dirty fingernails. "I am sure that's not all you have to say."

Snape shook his head and some strands of his oily hair fell back onto the pillow beneath him. "You have..." With this draw of breath the noise from the man's throat had quietened but the rumbling in every breath was still present. "His power." He tried.

"You've already said that." Harry replied shortly.

Once more the dark wizard shook his head. He jerked his right arm up yanked down his left sleeve. There on the man's skin, for the world to see was Voldemort's dark mark. "His power." He repeated as he shook his arm.

Harry's eyes narrowed. By all accounts, from everything that Dumbledore had told him and everything he'd learned about the Death Eaters, upon Voldemort's death that mark and all other marks should have vanished completely. "What are you trying to tell me?" He asked in disbelief.

The man before him grimaced as his eyes slipped shut. Really, the idiocy this boy displayed had begun to grate on his nerves. "Your anger... Burns."

Harry's shoulder rolled back as his weight shifted onto his left foot. Tense fingers quickly ruffled through his black coarse hair as the world around him became eerily quiet. For a few moments he stood with his hand in his hair and his eyes to the ground as his mind searched for possible alternatives. "How do you know?" As the noise returned his head swung back up and his eyes bored into Snape's. "How do you know it was me?" He moved to the nearest free bed and snatched one of the pillows from it. "What if the sun was just beating down on your arm through the window?" He clenched the pillow tight then threw it onto the floor. His eyes never broke the stare he shared with Snape. "Or what if you got bit by a spider? That'd make it burn." The pillow morphed and shifted and into a chair which Harry promptly sat in.

Obviously, in Snape's mind, the child was an idiot. The quickest way to get through that thick skull of his would be to simply make him extremely angry and show him exactly what happened. With a sneer and a glare as a plan formed in his mind, Severus' right hand shot out, and he snatched Harry by the collar to pull him in close. "Foolish… Idiot… Gryffindor." Wrinkles formed on his nose as Severus shoved the boy back. With each pause in his speech another inhale quivered with mucus. "Your mother… could never… be proud… of such… a-"

Any sign of emotion quickly left Harry's eyes as the young man sat in his seat. His teeth ground hard against one another and his nostrils flared. Just as he was about to demand Severus finish his thought, Harry realized that Snape's body was arched. Blood dripped down from the clenched fists of the Potions Master and added to the stains on his sheet. "Wh-" Green eyes darted to the mark on Severus' arm, and then Harry understood.

Atop inflamed red skin, the black ink of the snake that had been so painstakingly applied years before began to writhe. Not only did the Dark Mark move, but the very magic that had been injected into the tattoo caused the muscle beneath it to twitch and tense. A long groan that had worked its way out from Severus' mouth turned into a heavily suppressed growl.

"You've got to be kidding me." Harry whispered with wide eyes as he watched the display begin to die down.

In a matter of moments, Draco Malfoy barged into the infirmary as he clutched his own left arm. "Madame Pomfrey, where's Potter? I don't think the Dark Lord is dead." The wavers in his voice and the trembles of his shoulders told of the fright he felt.

"Of course he's dead!" Madame Pomfrey stated adamantly as she peered up from her patient. "Don't you dare start rumors abo-"

"No! Yesterday, my mark, it burned. And just now, it moved and burned again." Draco tried as his fingers twitched and his feverish eyes darted around the room. Once he'd spotted Harry, the young man ran over to him and finally released his arm. "Potter! Listen to me, the Dark Lord, he isn't dead. I felt him through my mark. Uncle Severus, tell him!" He demanded.

Briefly the shimmer of a silver-blue orb befell the group and dissipated. Harry lowered his hand. "Silencing barrier." He explained as his posture fell slightly and he stared towards the platinum blonde brat. "Listen Malfoy, the only, and I mean only reason I'm telling you this is because you worked a little for the Order this last year. If you hadn't, I'd just let you suffer… the thing is, when I… when I killed Voldemort, something happened." With a glance to the ground, Harry's hand slinked up to the back of his neck and the young man cleared his throat. "I think that I- dunno, maybe absorbed his power. Apparently when I get mad, it makes the marks burn."

Nervous mild laughter momentarily erupted from Draco's throat as he absently rubbed his arm. "You're kidding… This is obviously a joke." He said with a lopsided smile that quickly shifted into a frown. "This is a joke… right?"

"You want proof?" An innocence that once resided in Harry's eyes seemed to be missing. "Make me mad. That'll be all the proof you need."

A throaty groan rumbled from Severus' throat as the man clenched onto the sheets. "Oh no…. not again." He winced.

"It's the only way he'll believe me, Snape. Stop being such a baby." Harry scolded.

Indignant fury laced Draco's voice. "Potter you arse; he's saved both our hides more times than either of us would probably care to admit, and you have the- the gall… Pff… He's injured! And you call me the bully. Some savior."

Soon both of the former Death Eaters were writhing in their spots. Years of training had enabled Severus to do this quietly and with minimal movement, but the young and inexperienced Draco screamed out at the sudden fire burning on his arm.

Harry sneered as he tried to calm himself. "I am not a bully, Malfoy, and don't you ever insinuate that again. You don't know what I've been through, you pompous prat." Spittle flew from his mouth at and the immense pain finally died down in the others' arms. "Tch… Believe me now?"