Harry woke up in the hospital wing. He was always waking up in the hospital wing. He had hoped this would happen less often once he became a teacher, but he supposed that as long as Voldemort was alive, he had to get used to waking up here.
He tried to remember what brought him there this time, but he had a hard time focusing. They had been fighting; that much he remembered. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had been there. They had gotten most of the students out, but the teachers and older students had stayed to fight, and most of the Order had arrived in time to help. One of the Death Eaters must have hit him with something. But what? Was the battle still raging on? He couldn't hear any explosions, so he was fairly certain the battle had ended. Had he defeated Voldemort? Was everyone he cared for still alive? He had so many questions, and no one was around to answer them.
Harry made sure he was clothed and then pushed himself out of bed. He wobbled a little and closed his eyes, gripping the side of bed to steady himself. When he was sure he could move without falling over, he made his way over to the curtains that surrounded his bed, sectioning off his bed from the rest of the ward.
The rest of the room was packed, and most people appeared to be asleep. He recognized most of the people in the beds, but no one he considered a close friend was there. He couldn't tell if that was a good sign or not. A few people looked up as he walked into the room, and they started clapping, which alerted more people to his presence.
"What's with all that noise?" Madame Pomfrey bustled into the room, and the clapping stopped. She spotted Harry, and her face softened somewhat. "Professor Potter. I should have known. At least the clapping makes sense. What are you doing out of bed?"
"I woke up and wanted to know what happened," Harry said. "If they're clapping, does that mean Voldemort—"
Madame Pomfrey flinched and pushed him back toward his bed. "Yes, Professor Potter. You defeated the Dark Lord. Now lay down. You're still weak."
Harry flopped down on his bed and waited while Madame Pomfrey checked his vitals. He felt fine except for a slight headache and a bit of residual dizziness that had mostly faded now that he was in bed again.
"How are Ron and Hermione? The rest of the Weasleys? Professor Dumbledore?"
"They're all fine." She continued checking him over, but Harry wasn't done. A memory came back to him suddenly, one of Severus pushing him to the ground as a Death Eater sent a curse his way.
"What about Severus?" he asked desperately.
Madame Pomfrey hesitated, and Harry feared the worst. How was Severus not the first person he asked about? He should have been. Now that Harry was teaching at Hogwarts and Ron and Hermione were married and working at the Ministry, Severus was his closest friend.
Harry hadn't expected the two of them to become friends at all. It just sort of happened. Even though Severus had twenty years on him, he was still the closest professor to Harry's age. Harry and Severus had spent many nights together planning for the war, and then Harry started coming to him for help with his classes, and then they started getting together just to talk. They had drinks every Saturday and talked about what they hoped for the future. Harry wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but he hadn't just formed a friendship with Severus. He had fallen in love with the man. He had wanted to tell him how he felt for months, but he had never worked up the nerve to do so, and now Severus might be dead, and if he was dead, Harry didn't want to live in this world anymore.
"He's not dead," said Madame Pomfrey when it became clear that was what Harry was thinking.
Harry stopped worrying quite as much and looked up at her, a hopeful look on his face. "He's not?"
"No, he's not," she said, though she still didn't sound happy. "The spell that he was hit with, it was meant for you."
Harry had figured that much out already. "What was it supposed to do?"
"It was meant to de-age you 18 years," said Madame Pomfrey. "If it had hit you, it would have killed you. But it hit Severus instead, so..."
"He's 18 years younger?" asked Harry, shocked.
"Yes. He's technically fine. He just currently has the body of a 21 year old."
Harry didn't know what to make of that. "Does he still have all of his memories?"
"Yes," said Madame Pomfrey. "The only thing that has changed is his body. His mind is very much in tact."
Harry was relieved at that. "So he should be fine?"
"Yes."
"Can you re-age him?"
"I'm afraid not," she said. "Those sorts of potions are very dark magic. Even if I could brew the right potion, I wouldn't give it to him. The body is not meant to be messed with like that. Re-aging him at this point could do serious damage to him."
"Oh." Harry was sad that Severus wouldn't get to return to the right body, but at least he got to keep his memories and wasn't apparently in any more danger. "Can I see him?"
"I'm afraid not. He doesn't want any visitors right now. He's been down in his chambers all week, and he refuses to see anyone."
"I've been here a week?" asked Harry, shocked.
Madame Pomfrey nodded. "Your friends will be quite happy to find out you're doing better."
And Madame Pomfrey had not been wrong about that. Not half an hour after he woke up, the doors burst open, and Ron and Hermione appeared. They were thrilled to learn he was awake and recovering, though Harry still didn't know exactly what he was recovering from. Part of it was exhaustion from using so much magic to get rid of Voldemort, but the rest was just spells he had been hit with when he was trying to see if Severus was okay after he took the fall for Harry - or at least that's what Harry was able to get out of Ron and Hermione.
The two kept Harry up to date on all of the news he had missed since the end of the war, including the people they lost and the Death Eaters who were killed or were awaiting trial. That was all well and good now, but what Harry most wanted was a chance to talk to Severus. He tried to get Madame Pomfrey to ask the man to visit Harry or to let Harry go down and visit Severus, but Madame Pomfrey refused to let him leave and said Severus refused to come up and see him. Harry was hurt by this — while he knew the man didn't return Harry's feelings, he had at least thought the man considered him a friend — but he tried not to show it too much.
A week after Harry woke up in the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey finally decided he could leave and return to his own private chambers, especially because the Ministry ball to celebrate the end of the war was coming up soon, and Harry, as the Boy who Lived and Defeated Voldemort, was expected to accept an award on behalf of the entire wizarding world. Harry wasn't sure he liked that idea, but there didn't seem a way for him to get out of it, so he supposed he had to go.
The day of the ball, Harry went down to Severus's chambers and knocked on the door, hoping the two of them could talk before they had to go to the ball, but Severus didn't answer. "Severus?" Harry called, leaning closer to the door. "It's me, Harry. Are you there?"
He waited some more but gave up when it became clear that the older man - now only three years older - wasn't going to answer. Brushing aside the hurt once again, Harry returned to his rooms to kill time there until it was actually time to leave.
An hour into the Ministry ball, Harry was half wishing he hadn't survived his final encounter with Voldemort. Everyone wanted to shake his hand and tell him how inspiring he was and get their picture taken with him and tell him how proud his parents would be, even though most of the people he spoke with had never met his parents. He wanted to hide until the event was over, but he had a feeling he would somehow get in trouble for that.
Besides, if he left, he would have no chance of talking to Severus, which was the only reason Harry had been even remotely interested in coming here. Severus was getting an Order of Merlin tonight, so Harry knew he would be there. He had been watching him all night, but he hadn't been able to work up the courage to go up to him yet.
Harry almost hadn't recognized Severus, he looked so different. He had the same hooked nose that Harry's Severus had, though his whole face looked less sallow, and his hair seemed silkier, and he carried himself differently, with more confidence. Harry didn't now if that was because of the age thing or the fact that he was now a celebrated war hero, but he supposed both probably played a role in the change.
Harry didn't know what to do. Part of him was dying to go up and talk to Severus, but the other part of him was terrified. What if Severus had been avoiding him because he no longer wanted to talk to him? What if he found Harry boring and was looking forward to using the end of the war as an excuse not to have to talk to him anymore? Severus didn't strike Harry as the type of person who put up with anyone when he have to — aside from his students, of course — so he was sure Severus would have told him if he hated him. Then again, that was what made the sudden distance even more confusing.
Harry and Severus were seated at the same table, though Severus was at the opposite side, so Harry still couldn't talk to him. He kept shooting glances at the man all through dinner, but Severus didn't look over at him once, at least not as far as Harry could see. He didn't actually stand next to Severus until they were both called up to receive their awards. They stood beside each other in silence as everyone clapped. Normally, Harry and Severus would have exchanged eye rolls or some sort of derogatory comment about their fans, but now Severus refused to meet Harry's eye, making the entire ordeal more awkward.
After the awards, they had desserts and drinks, and people started mingling again. Harry knew this was the chance to slip away, but he still hadn't talked to Severus, and he had to do that before he left. The last month of school had been canceled so that they could fix up the castle, and while Harry would be staying at the castle, he wasn't sure if Severus was. This might be his last chance to talk to the man before fall, and he would be damned if he let this chance slip by.
Many people were on the dance floor now, but Severus wasn't. He was standing near the dance floor, a glass of something in his hand, and he was watching the people on the dance floor. Harry knew this was his chance, as it was the first time Severus had been alone all evening. He gulped down his glass of champagne and made his way over to the man he loved.
It was almost like going up to a stranger. The old Severus would have looked at Harry with a smile on his face, and they would have laughed at outfits and the people fawning all over them, and then they would have gone back to Hogwarts together and enjoyed talking. This Severus was much more intimidating. Harry knew it was the same man, that he had all the same memories as the old Severus, but Harry was still incredibly nervous. He tried to remind himself that Severus had been de-aged because he took a curse meant for Harry, which he would not have done if he hated Harry, but that wasn't really much comfort. After all, if he and Harry were friends, why had Severus been avoiding him the last week?
"Hi, Severus," said Harry. Now that he was closer, Harry noticed that a lot of the man's scars were gone. He was even more good looking, though he certainly had no complaints about the way Severus looked when he was older.
"Mr. Potter," said Severus, nodding.
Harry felt his stomach drop a bit. It had taken him months to get Severus to call him by his first name. "Are we back to that again?"
Severus looked at him and sighed. "Fine, Harry. I'm glad to see you're doing well."
You could have found out for yourself a lot earlier by coming up to visit me, or by letting me into your rooms when I tried to visit, thought Harry, but he kept those thoughts to himself. "Yeah. Thank you for saving me."
"That's my job," said Severus.
Harry's stomach dropped further. Severus hadn't been this cold in a long time, not since they first stated working together. He had thought they were friends, but maybe he had been wrong. But Harry wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. He gathered together what was left of his courage and said, "Would you care to join me for drinks? Saturday? At our usual time?"
"I can't," said Severus. "I have a date on Saturday. I could do it Sunday, though."
Harry felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. Severus had a date? He had never known the man to have a date, ever. Not that Harry didn't understand why Severus would have a date. Of course he would. But that didn't mean Harry had to like it. Of course, he should have known this would happen. Severus was smart and funny and handsome, and now he was a war hero and nearly twenty years younger. Of course he would have a ton of people throwing themselves at him. Of course he would have a date.
And of course that date would take precedence over a visit with Harry.
"Yeah, Sunday works," said Harry miserably.
"Excellent."
A young man, about Severus's age and incredibly handsome, walked up and asked Severus for a dance. Severus excused himself and walked off, leaving Harry alone on the side of the dance floor.