3: (same day)
War had done terrible things to Madam Pomfrey. Harry watched as her once-plump form bustled away. He had no idea what she would do when school started up in a scarce week. She looked like the walking dead.
As always, thoughts of the dead dragged his eyes to the corpse-like figure in the cot next to him. Of course, Poppy would never let a patient waste away, but Snape had always been thin and ghost-like. The off-white sheets made him seem porcelain. Breakable.
Harry had barely left his side, always fearing that the moment he left would be the moment the Potions Master woke to the world that would never understand the whole story. Sure, he'd gone to the funerals and some of the trials - even testified at some - but he always returned as quickly as he could. For all that time, he'd never once touched the man.
After all, he was only ever any good for destroying things.
A/N: RIP Alan Rickman. You'll be forever in our hearts.