I apologize for this being so late, but it's here now *smiles awkwardly*. This chapter is a little bit shorter, but I promise that the next chapter won't take as long. All mistakes are mine and unfortunately the world of Harry Potter and the characters do not belong to me. Enjoy!
Ch. 2
Snape covered his eyes as bright, morning light filtered through the curtains. Ever since the little incident with the snake he was stuck with Potter and his window friendly rooms. The blasted Gryffindor had apparently insisted that it would be better if sunlight could reach Snape without having to take him outside. So, of course, the dungeons would not be an option when it came to choosing which residence they would be living in.
In all reality the rooms were not too horrid, as if Severus would ever admit that, but the monotony of the scenery was starting to irritate the older man to no end. Oh, how he wished to get out of these blasted rooms and to yet again wonder around the castle or at least brew a potion or two. But according to Madam Pomfrey his injuries had more of a negative effect on his body than she originally thought. Now his speech had recovered completely after only a week or two. Walking, however, was a different kind of story. Just walking to the loo and back made him feel as weak as a kitten.
But the worst part of all was the fact that he still had to rely on Potter for extra help. Death would have been too good on his guilty soul. If there were any deity in existence they were probably laughing at him. It would only be suitable punishment after all, humiliation was the next best thing to slowly going insane inside a dank cell.
The trials themselves made him ponder on the decision of the Wizengamot. Surely the people would know better than set an ex-death eater free. Heaven knows, most of wizarding Britain thought him guilty of all the things he had done in his past. But no, according to Minerva there were several people present (Harry, bloody, Potter) at his trials who had pleaded on his behalf and encouraged the group of snobby,holier-than-thou people to declare him innocent.
Snape snorted at the thought of being declared innocent. It was Potter's mercy and fame that had kept him out Azkaban. Nobody would dare to go against the big hero's opinion. But why would Potter plead for him at his own trials? Why would Potter even try to save him when he knew that he was as good as dead?
He had once tried asking Harry, but all he got in reply was "You deserved a second chance". Bloody martyr. The boy had to go out of his way to better people's life even when they didn't want to be helped.
He remembered the surprise when he found Potter practically staring at him when he had woken up from his coma. It was a bittersweet moment to finally gain consciousness from one of the most wonderful dreams he had ever had.
Flashback….
Snape took a deep breath and looked around for the umpteenth time. The landscape was the same as it had always been; a beautiful beach with a small cottage nearby. He knew that it couldn't possibly be death, he had too many sins to account for, but he didn't know what it could be if it wasn't that. Surely not reality, if it was then it would be filled with darkness, dementors, and insanity. Maybe it was reality and he had already gone insane and this was the product of such happenings. No, that couldn't be it. If it was then the dementors would have taken this piece of happiness away from him.
Snape heard somebody call his name from inside the cottage. Of course, in the back of his mind he knew who it was, but at the same time he didn't recognize the person's identity. Every time he saw that particular person his whole being changed; he forgot about all the wrongs he had done in the past, he forgot all the dark times in his life. Maybe I'm simply going crazy, Snape thought to himself with a soft smile.
He walked up the short path to the cottage and opened the door.
There was a man standing in the small kitchenette that was connected to the small living room. The man was short, but he looked strong as if he was an athlete of some sort. When Severus tried to look at his face it would become blurry and unrecognizable. But it still didn't change the fact that the man was breathtakingly beautiful.
"Come sit on the couch with me," the man said. He walked over to Severus and took his hand in his. He led them to the small couch in the living room and sat down gingerly, pulling Severus along with him.
Every single day in this dream world was filled with that man being around him. Most of the time, the two of them would be found cuddling on the couch, enjoying each other's company. But sometimes they would be doing something much more than cuddling. Severus remembered the nights filled with so much passion that it almost hurt; in a way it made him feel as if this was real that this wasn't just a fragment of this imagination. But he pushed that thought away, not wanting to think about it all. He just wanted to enjoy this little bit of happiness that he had.
The mysterious man brushed his lips against Snape, getting him out of his reverie.
"He's calling you," he whispered with a smile.
"What?" Severus asked. The man slowly pulled away and cupped his face.
"He has been calling you for quite some time. But you don't listen.
Confusion clouded Severus' mind. "I don't understand what you are talking about."
"You have been asleep for far too long." Snape looked at him with a frown and gasped when he saw the face of the mystery man become slowly clear.
The once blurry face now had distinguishing features. Severus felt like a fool when he recognized the bright green eyes and the messy dark hair. He couldn't believe that he wasn't able to realize who it was just by the voice. For the love of everything that was holy, he was a bloody spy; a very good bloody spy, for that matter. He had survived all those years with the Dark Lord, manipulating old fools, and teaching incompetent idiots without killing too many people. He has done all of those things yet he failed to recognize someone who was beyond familiar.
"What are you doing here?" Severus asked, anger slowly creeping into his voice. He pulled away from the boy as if he was burned and tried to get away from him as far as possible.
"Severus," Harry began.
"Don't call me that," Severus seethed. "You have no right to call me that."
"Severus, listen," Harry stood up and walked over to where the older man was standing.
"No, don't touch me," he hissed. What kind of dream was this? No, this was not even a dream, far from it. This was a bloody nightmare. The younger male sighed in defeat and sat back down on the couch.
"Just please hear me out," Harry pleaded.
Severus thought for a moment and nodded hesitantly, but he stood standing where he was.
"This is all happening in your mind," he started.
"Yes, I am quite aware of that," Severus snapped, snorting in his mind at the thought of this possibly being reality.
"That's not the point."
"Then get to the point." Severus said; his patience was wearing thin for the first time in what seemed like weeks, months, or for all he knew maybe even years. Who would have thought that even in his subconscious mind Potter would still be a nuisance.
"You need to wake up," Harry said.
"And why should I do that?"
"Because they are waiting for you to wake up." The fool had enough nerve to actually smile.
"Your riddles are getting us nowhere. Define 'them'," he drawled. Severus could already feel a headache coming on. For once in his damned life he had thought that he escaped the pathetic monologues of these blasted students, but apparently it wasn't meant to be so. The pestering still continued even in his dreams. What was to happen next? Perhaps the pestering would continue even past his death.
Harry laughed softly, "You never do change, do you?"
Snape stared at the boy. "Do not play games with me, Potter, for I am in a foul mood."
"This is not a game, professor. I am merely stating facts." Harry shook his head with a chuckle. "'They' are the people who have been waiting for you to get up, your friends."
"That's preposterous."
"It's not. You don't realize how many people actually care, especially one person in particular. Someone who you never thought would give you the time of the day, but secretly hoped they would. And he has."
Severus looked at him in disbelief, "You are lying. You are nothing but a figment of my imagination."
"That maybe so," Harry agreed. "But they really are calling you to wake up. And you are finally starting to listen."
Right as he said those words everything around Snape started getting blurry. Everything, from Harry's face to furniture, began not making sense any more. It was as if a switch had been tuned on and instead of controlling the lights it controlled his dreams. He wasn't sure if it was from the real world or from inside his mind, but he heard his name called over and over, begging him to wake up. But if what Potter had said was true and there were people begging him to wake up, why was he finally listening now? He didn't even know when he started listening to those voices in the first place.
He couldn't see the world he had lived in anymore, it was gone. Just the thought that he probably would never be able to re-live that dream again made his heart ache just a little bit; but of course, this was another tidbit of information he would never admit that to anyone, ever.
"Please, wake up," A voice sounded in his head. It seemed to be coming from the outside, but how could you even get outside? What was 'outside'?
Suddenly, he felt as if he was lying down, laying down for quite a bit. His muscles felt stiff and he felt like a child who had overslept and was now quite cranky. He mustered up the strength to open his eyes and a sight that he never thought he would greeted him.
Harry bloody Potter was holding an empty potions bottle in his hands and he looked quite worried yet hopeful at his ex-professor. Just the thought of him holding a potions bottle made Snape question the sanity of the people that gave it to him in the first place; what were they thinking? The boy could not be trusted with potions. Given the chance he would probably kill someone with it.
"Potter?" Snape croaked. Just how long had he been asleep for his voice to get to this state?
"Professor?" Harry asked in a surprised tone and stared at him in wonder. Was it such a miracle for him to be awake that the boy kept on staring at him? He could have been dying and the boy would have just continued on staring without a second thought.
Snape was beginning to lose his patience. "Wha-"
"Hang on, professor," Harry jumped out of the chair as well as his reverie. "I need to get a hold of Madam Pomfrey."
End of Flashback
They weren't able to look at each other in the eye for a week. Every kind of contact was awkward to no end and quite frankly it was becoming annoying. Snape had really questioned as to why anyone even let him be taken care by the "boy wonder". But what upset him even more was how everybody that came around him kept on treating him like an invalid. He was a man, damn it, and he had made it through Voldemort's rein, multiple times might he add!
Yes, he did need a helping hand sometimes, but he did not wish to be treated like some cripple who couldn't care for himself. The months of sleeping did not come without consequences, the difficulty with his voice and not being able to walk were a result of that. But he could overcome the hurdle soon if Poppy would allow him to stop resting and let him get out of the damn bed.
There was a knock on the door before Harry's figure appeared in the doorway.
"It's time for your medicine," he said. Snape's face betrayed nothing and Harry uncorked the first potion. He did not secretly glare as the bottle that descended upon his lips and he certainly did not show a single sign of repulsion as the foul liquid went down his throat. That had not happened and it will never happen, ever.
"See," Harry said quietly, "that wasn't so bad."
Snape's expression revealed nothing.
"I talked to Poppy today," he said as he opened a second vile. "She said that you have made great progress so far."
"And yet here I am," Snape grumbled under his breath.
Harry ignored the comment and brought the second potion to Snape's mouth. "She told me that you will start your rehabilitation soon."
"It's about time," he drawled. He had been stuck in his bed for over two months now and he was beginning to think that Poppy would sentence him to a lifetime of bed rest. He just secretly hoped that the rehabilitation wouldn't take long so that he could get as far away from Potter as he possibly could.
I repeat, all mistakes are mine and I will update more often. Reviews are greatly appreciated.
