After a few more days, Severus was able to stay awake for more than an hour or so at a time. Healing and strengthening potions that Potter said he got from Pomfrey and that Severus recognized as his own were the likely cause. He still hadn't figured out exactly why he was here, in Harry Potter's home, or why Potter was taking such meticulous care of him. But the boy did seem to be concerned about his recovery, and surely if he was going to hurt Severus he'd have done it by now, so he forced himself to relax and let it happen.

He was a Slytherin, after all, and it all seemed to be working to his advantage thus far.

After Potter finished feeding him—there were far fewer napkins required than the first time he'd done it—he did not immediately want to go back to sleep. He looked at Potter questioningly, willing him to understand. What do I do now?

"Um, I'm sure this will be no end of awkward, but I'm just going to ask anyway, okay? In my experience, cleaning charms can only go so far in making a person actually feel clean, and sometimes the only thing that really does it is a nice warm bath. I've been doing cleaning charms every day, but I know it's been almost a year since you've had a bath. If you'd like, I could help you."

Well that was unexpected. What did the boy think he was playing at? There was no way he was going to open himself up to such ridicule from James Potter's son, who'd probably just let him drown in it anyway.

He couldn't help thinking it sounded nice, though.

"I know what you're thinking. I'm not doing this so I can make fun of you. I don't want to hurt you, Professor. Has anything I've done since you've been here given you the impression that I did? I'm not my father."

The wretched boy was right, of course. He'd gone out of his way to preserve Severus' dignity whenever possible. Perhaps he really wasn't like James.

"Look, I know you want to. Anyone in their right mind would be desperate for a bath after over ten months. Just blink once for yes, okay?"

Severus lay there for a long moment, searching Potter's face for any trace of mockery. There was none. He took a deep breath and slowly, deliberately, blinked once.

"Right. Okay, great. I just want to check a couple of things first." Potter slipped his small hand into Severus' and instructed, "Squeeze my hand, hard as you can."

They had done this a few times before, and he complied.

"Good, good. That's better than last time."

Next, he shifted the covers off Severus' legs and lifted each one in turn, bending it at the knee. Potter carefully looked only at his face when his nightshirt rode up around his thighs, placed his palm against the sole of his foot, and Severus pushed against him as hard as he could.

"Great, you're getting much stronger. Still, I'm going to have to help you a lot. I'm going to cast a Featherweight Charm on you, okay?" Severus was inordinately grateful for the fact that Potter always let him know when he was about to cast a spell on him. If the boy had just pointed his wand at him, Severus probably would have been terrified. Once the charm was cast, Potter wrapped Severus' arm over his shoulder and pulled him out of the bed.

This was the first time he'd been out of bed, and it felt odd to be upright again. Odd, but good. He moved his feet with the steps Potter took, even though he knew it wasn't actually helping. When they got to the washroom, Potter pointed his wand at the bathtub, which instantly filled with water.

"Let's get that nightshirt off, then." Potter pulled it up to his waist, sat him down on the edge of the tub, and pulled it over his head. Before Severus really had time to be embarrassed about sitting there naked, Potter picked him up with one arm under his shoulders and the other under his knees and gently laid him in the water, making sure his head was resting comfortably on the back of the tub.

Potter looked only at his face, but he wasn't acting embarrassed or overly careful about it. It eased Severus' tension a bit.

"Now we need to get your hair washed, and the rest of you. Or you could just lie and soak for a bit if you want. Any preference?"

The water felt wonderful around him, and as long as he came out of this clean he really didn't care what order things happened in. He shrugged his shoulders a fraction of an inch.

"Right then. How about the hair first? Is it all right if I cast an Imperturbable Charm over your face? I don't want to get soap in your eyes or drown you or anything."

The charm was cast, and Snape lost himself in the feel of warm water flowing down his neck and nimble fingers massaging shampoo through his hair, not once but twice, and then another substance, which Potter called 'conditioner'.

Then there was a soft flannel covered with coconut and lemon scented soap rubbing along his arms and legs and everywhere. Potter didn't skip over anyplace, or linger in one spot longer than another. In fact, he was downright professional about it. It was still awkward, of course, but it could have been exponentially worse and it was Potter's behavior that was doing it. When had he got so grown up?

Once he was thoroughly clean, Potter let the water out and turned to him with an enormous, fluffy beige towel. It was wrapped around him and he was lifted out and placed on the side on the tub, where Potter proceeded to dry him off, explaining, "I always find drying charms make me itch, don't you?" He was then dressed in a clean nightshirt and presented with two unopened packages of smalls—boxers and briefs.

Finally, Potter seemed a bit embarrassed. Severus was almost grateful for it, as he'd been starting to wonder what was wrong with the boy.

"You, er, didn't have any on at the hospital and I didn't want to presume. I should've asked sooner I guess, but…yeah." He thrust the two packages toward Severus, one in his left hand and one in his right, for examination. There was plain white briefs or plain black boxers. He looked steadily at the package of boxers, and was soon dressed in a pair and shuffled back into bed.

He knew Potter had been taking care of him for weeks now, but this was different. He felt he should thank him for this. Only he couldn't.

"All right there, Professor?"

He furrowed his brows at that.

"What's wrong?" Potter asked. "Oh, right. I suppose you're not my professor anymore. Sir?"

The brows remained furrowed.

"Well what am I supposed to call you—Mr. Snape?"

The got a full scowl.

"Well, what else is there?" he asked, sounding exasperated. "Unless…um, S-Severus?" he proposed tentatively.

He let the nasty expression drop from his face and Potter beamed like Christmas had come early. Perhaps he could thank him after all.

"Thank you, Severus, that really means a lot to me. And when you start talking again, please, call me Harry."

XXXXX

The next week passed in their established routine.

Harry read to him and brought him tea. He fed him, though they were now moving on to more complicated foods like roast beef and chunks of pear. Various potions were administered. He had one more bath. Harry told him about little Rose, and who had survived the final battle and who hadn't, and how sometime while he was in St. Mungo's his house at Spinner's End had burned to the ground. The Ministry put it down to vandalism, but they had no suspects.

"You seem to be doing a lot better lately, and I was thinking I might go back to spending mornings in the shop," Harry said one morning after breakfast.

Snape—Severus, he mentally corrected—stared at him blankly. Was it possible he'd never got around to telling him about the shop?

"Oh, I guess I haven't mentioned, this flat is above a shop. My shop. It's called Growing Things—a florist shop, essentially. Most of my customers are muggles, but I do sell some botanical potion ingredients as well. It seems to be doing well enough, and I like it. Alfonso's been pretty much running things the last two months, but he's really only supposed to be part-time. So, yeah, if you think it's all right, I'm planning to start spending mornings in the shop again."

Harry pointed toward the random assortment of books—wizard and muggle, texts and novels—he'd placed on the nightstand. "I know you probably can't lift them or turn the pages too well, but I can have it hover and set a charm so the page turns when you tap your finger. Would you like one?"

Harry waited while Severus read the titles. He wasn't sure why, but he was unaccountably nervous about leaving him all alone every morning. What if something happened?

Severus had rearranged his fingers so only two were showing. "Second one from the top?"

Harry set him up with his chosen book and fidgeted, reluctant to leave. After a few minutes, he decided he was being ridiculous.

"If you need me for anything, anything at all, even if it seems unimportant, just tap on this three times, okay?" he said, then swept his wand in a wide arc to conjure a pendant on a long cord. He draped it around Severus' neck and pointed at the pendant. "Right here, three times. For anything. I'll be back at lunchtime."

XXXXX

A few days later, Severus was just settling in to read his book during Harry's morning shift in the shop when someone knocked on his door.

In the brief moment between the knock and the opening of the door, Severus thought it was Harry coming back. He worried that something was wrong, that something had happened to him. He next considered that perhaps Harry had forgotten to tell him something before he left. There was even a brief flicker of—what, of hope?—that Harry had decided to skip work today and spend the morning with him instead.

He felt foolish and tried not to be disappointed when Granger came in.

"Good morning, Professor. Is it all right if I come in? I don't want to interrupt your reading."

He gave a slight nod and she sat in the chair beside the bed. Harry's chair.

"Harry tells me you're doing much better, and I'm so glad to hear it. I, um, hope you're feeling all right this morning."

He just stared back at her for a moment, but it was clear she was nervous, so he nodded again.

"Great. I just, you know, thought maybe you could do with a fresh face. I think I might go crazy if I had to spend as much time with Harry as you do, and he's my best friend. I know you never liked him much, but you should know he's gone to amazing lengths to help you."

He scowled and nodded yet again. Yes, he knew. He was here to witness it every day. He had still not discerned Harry's motivation, but he was well aware of how much of himself Harry was investing in Severus' recovery.

"Right, anyway. I just thought you might like to hear about some of the things I'm sure Harry never talks about."

So she told him about the current politics and what was going on in the Ministry, and how the damage to Hogwarts was almost entirely repaired, and how the new headmistress was handling things, and the incompetent Potions professor who'd replaced him. She also talked a lot about her daughter, Rose. Then she started telling him how sorry she was that Weasley would never know Rose, and how lonely she felt, and the next thing he knew she was crying.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Professor," she sobbed, covering her face with one hand. "I didn't mean to do this, it's just, it's such a waste!"

Severus honestly didn't know what came over him, but he found himself wanting to comfort her somehow. So he did the only thing he could and reached out to cover the tiny hand resting on her knee with his own.

She looked up, completely shocked.

Did everyone honestly believe he had no heart at all? He squeezed her hand softly. He understood heartache. He understood regret. Granger might be an annoying know-it-all twit, but she'd lost her lover, the father of her child, and she deserved whatever small comfort he could give her in that moment.

XXXXX

The next week, Severus was feeding himself with relative ease and, while he probably couldn't walk yet, moving around much better. When Harry came up from work that afternoon, he decided it was time.

"I brought you something, Severus," he announced, and held out a small notebook and a ballpoint pen. "You seem to be doing rather well with your hands, and I figured you'd probably be able to write. Now you can tell me all the things I'm doing wrong, like you hate carrots and you take your tea with two sugars and the bed is lumpy."

Severus took the notebook and pen from him and Harry smiled. Now they would really be able to communicate. In fact, Severus was scribbling something in it already. When he was finished, he turned it so Harry could read.

#I find carrots acceptable. I generally take no sugar in my tea. The bed is adequate.#

He added something else and turned it back toward Harry.

#Thank you, Harry.#

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Don't thank me, I'm happy to do it."

#Not for the paper, you imbecilic twit.#

Harry, who had known exactly what Severus meant the first time, burst out laughing.

#What in blazes is so funny?#

"Nothing, nothing," Harry said when he'd caught his breath. "It's just good to have you back. I missed your sharp ton—er, your snarky comments. Sorry. Is there anything I can get you?"

#Where is my wand?#

"Oh, didn't I say? Suppose not. It's under your pillow. That's where I keep mine when I sleep, and I figured you'd want to have it close. I can't believe I forgot to tell you. Will you be able to make much use of it?"

#Nonverbal spells are not my strong suit. Still, I shall manage some minor charms.#

"That's great, I'm glad to hear it."

Severus scribbled again, and hesitantly turned it so Harry could see.

#I prefer mine under the pillow as well.#

Harry smiled at him.

#Now, where is my food? Am I to starve to death?#