Title: Repose

Warnings: People offended by slash should not read this.

Disclaimer: I am just having fun. I own nothing.

Feedback: Please, it gets me all fuzzy inside reading them. No flaming.

Archive: Anywhere I guess, but I'd like to know beforehand.

Author's note: This is my first Harry Potter fic. It is non-canon.

"What the fuck are we doing here?"

A haggard Harry Potter was soaked up to his neck in scalding hot water, in a cast iron tub, far too small to be comfortable. He looked over to the man sitting across from him on the closed lid of a barely working toilet. He repeated the question.

The older man sighed, barely looking up. He continued roughly wrapping gauze around his scarred arm. Harry could still see the blood seeping through.

"You're going to get an infection."

"Worry about your own wounds."

Harry looked down at his thin body, noticing heavy bruising and swelling that almost certainly required medical attention. He looked back up to the other man who was crudely attempting to cut strips of bandages with his teeth.

"Severus?"

The other man finally looked up. He looked like Harry felt.

"We are here because there is nowhere else to go. Unfortunately, this is the only place left that is still remotely safe, and...adequate enough for our needs."

Now it was Harry's turn to sigh. He tried sinking further into the tub, but it proved difficult with the limited space. He lifted his knees and shifted his rear forward until his chin was covered with water. He could feel the hot water vapors slowly scalding his exposed nose and eyes. He didn't care. He looked at his knees, at the cartilage protruding against his pale skin. He picked at an old scab he saw. It stung and he hissed in pain.

Snape looked over, then back to his arm.

Harry closed his eyes and laid his head against the rim of the tub. He felt the rusted metal grazing his scalp.

"I could so fall asleep right now."

"Get out of that tub. I told you, you need ice. Hot water is not sufficient enough."

Harry shook his head. "Feels good."

They stayed silent for a few moments. Then Snape stood and walked to the tub, casting a dark shadow over the peaceful figure in the tub. Harry slowly opened his eyes to find his former Potions Master glowering down at him, towel in hand.

"My turn." He thrust the towel in Harry's direction. Heavily sighing, Harry sat up in the tub, wincing as he did, and grabbed the squalid looking towel. He slowly stood, getting suddenly dizzy from all the heat.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he stepped out of the tub onto the cold aged tiled floor. Snape was attempting to get undressed with one hand. Never once did he ask for Harry's help and Harry knew better than to offer. Finally completely undressed, he left his clothing on the floor and slowly stepped into the hot water. He glared in Harry's direction as he did so.

"Were you attempting to cook yourself?" Harry shrugged and sat on the toilet seat. He didn't bother drying off; he was far too exhausted to even move. He slumped down on the seat watching as Snape fully sank into the tub with a barely repressed grimace.

Snape kept his bandaged arm away from the water by letting it limply hand off the edge of the tub. He did the same to his other arm. Harry bit his lip, feeling slightly guilty. If he hadn't gotten in the way, maybe Severus would have seen the Death Eater about to curse him. Luckily, he only partially missed. How much further would their luck continue?

He slumped further, placing his elbows and forearms on his knees. Even the coarse feel of the towel was aggravating his skin.

"I'm so fucking tired." He raked his fingers through his messy mop. He didn't bother washing it.

"Then go to sleep."

"Can't. Can't sleep. He won't let me." Shit, thought Harry, now I've opened up an old can of worms, again. He counted to five and predictably heard Snape respond.

"Well, perhaps if you did as I asked you six years ago, He would not be bothering your every waking moment. Now, forget it, I don't even have the energy myself to teach you, nor would there be a point. You were always a slow learner. We'd be killed before you ever learned Occlumency..."

Harry glared at Snape who had his eyes shut as Harry did earlier.

"You just had to throw that at me right now didn't you? You were always a bastard you know that? And guess what? Nothing's changed in six years!"

"You are still alive."

Barely, thought Harry, but it was true nonetheless. Harry swallowed whatever he was going to say next and opted for the honest approach. "Yes, yes, I know it is all thanks to you of course. Why, without the powerful and conniving Professor, how could Harry Potter ever dream of getting this far and fairly unscathed?"

"And you know it."

Deflated, Harry knew it was the truth. He laughed then, a bitter pathetic sound that turned Snape's head.

"Dear God. Its so fucking true, it's depressing! I practically need you to live. Pathetic isn't it? God if anyone knew..."

"I'm flattered you think so highly of me Potter."

"I never thought highly of you Snape. I never respected, liked or believed you."

"And now you do?"

"No. I still don't like you, and I think you respect me just about as much as I do you. But, I have to admit, I do admire you. I think back on all those years you served Voldemort and I cringe. You survived him and I would not be surprised if you survive me."

Snape looked away, leaning back in the tub. "Let's not plan your funeral yet shall we? There is much work yet to be done."

"What's the point? Everyone is dead. Hermione is doing all that volunteer medical work and for what? So one day, someone she knows and loves will be wheeled into her hospital wing, dead or dying? Or poor Ron who already lost two brothers-going berserk in his madness and accidentally killing an innocent person rather than a true Death Eater?"

"You still have not told him?"

"Like he would believe me? I didn't even believe me! I didn't even tell Hermione until a year ago. I thought she was gonna throw a fit right then and there! Jesus Snape, who the fuck would trust you after what happened?"

"You did."

"Yea, well, maybe I'm not as slow a learner as you think."

"Hmm."

"Uuugh I have a headache."

"I am all out of potions."

"Yea, I know, just saying."

"Severus?"

"Mm?"

"Are we gonna die?"

"Are you planning on asking me that every day?"

"I just feel like we're wasting our time-and He's biding his. Its unnerving me. Don't you feel like that?"

"I try not to think about it. Give me the washcloth." Harry stood and walked to the cracked sink and picked up a washcloth. Frowning, he handed it to Snape.

"I just feel that we're being too predictable. I mean, we wake up, look for Death Eaters, kill them, get injured, come back here and lick our wounds. We should be doing more."

"By all means. Pray tell just how exactly you plan to locate the whereabouts of the Dark Lord?"

Harry rolled his eyes and plopped back on the toilet seat.

"I don't know. But I feel like I've aged 20 years in a matter of months."

"Then how do you think I feel?"

Snape was attempting to wash his back with his one good arm. Harry could tell he was wincing from the hot water coming in contact with the scarring flesh. He rose to his feet and walked over to the tub.

He grabbed the washcloth from Snape's hands, causing the older man to twist in surprise.

"Potter!"

"Shut it Snape. And fucking relax for once."

"I am perfectly capable."

"Yea. I know." Harry sighed and dunked the cloth into the warm water, then bringing it back up, he began to slowly and gently wash Snape's back. He was careful not to upset the newly fresh scars and bruises.

He felt Snape sigh, then slowly relax in the tub.

When he was finished, he handed the cloth back to Snape, who took it but just let it drop into the water.

Harry stayed where he was, his knees hurting from the rough tile. Quiet resounded for a moment and Harry felt a calm come over him. He could have slept right then and there.

Slowly, Snape twisted his body around, coming face to face with Harry's. He saw the tired, red eyes and for a moment, concern flashed on his face. Harry reassured him. He slowly smiled, a lazy tired smile, just to let Snape know that at least for now, he was fine.

Snape leaned forward, brushing his lips against Harry's. Harry didn't pull away. Instead he reached forward and ran his fingers through Snape's wet hair. The kiss was not so passionate, nothing like he was used to. But he felt soothed by it nonetheless. He drew back, gazing into Snape's eyes.

"So sleepy."

"I know. Go on to bed, at least try to sleep."

"You gonna join me?"

"In a minute. Let me finish up here." Harry yawned and nodded. He stood and turned to open the door.

"Oh and Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Try not to steal all the blankets tonight?"

Harry smiled and left.

Snape shook his head and turned back around. Taking up the washcloth once more, he washed his torso and legs, watching as the grime practically dissolved off him. Wincing as he stood, he grabbed his towel from the floor, wrapped it around his waist and went to see Harry.