Chapter 4

I'm sorry about the delay- I've had a mad couple of weeks and haven't had time to devote to this. I'm hoping to give a couple of updates over the next 2 weeks or so. Please bear with me.

A massive, enormous, hug filled thank you to all of you who've kindly taken the time to review. I really, genuinely appreciate it and it is a fabulous thing to do to give your opinion. Please continue to let me know what you think. I relish each and every one of them!

There's a bit of a discrepancy with this story which I've been waiting to explore. It's 3 years post-war, but Harry's only in his 2nd year of teaching…what happened in the missing year…?

We see a slight smidge of all of the walls between these two start to wobble in this chapter. A little, but with great potential. Enjoy! :)

"For we are born in other's pain, and perish in our own" – Francis Thompson

Harry was breathing hard as his directionless feet guided him through the cooling corridors. He could hear his breath being sucked through his lungs, echoing in the quiet this unknown part of the castle offered, as he observed it through unseeing eyes. His mind was blank as he pushed hard against the tirade threatening to overwhelm him.

He didn't notice Minerva until he had almost collided with her. Stopping abruptly at the close figure, Harry snapped his head up in slight alarm.

"Ah, Professor Potter, I've been meaning to…" Minerva paused almost as quickly as she began, frowning "You're looking pale, Harry." she stated, quietly, in his earshot only. And it was with vague surprise that Harry realised they were in the entrance hall, and a few students were looking on, curiously, at their exchange. It was still the middle of the evening, he recalled, the darkening blanket of the Autumnal season now beginning to grip the castle.

"Tea, my office." Minerva directed, leaving Harry little room to object as she steered him, with a brief touch, back toward the corridor he'd just hurried through.

"Is everything alright?" she asked as soon as the door had softly clicked behind them in the familiar, round office. She had dropped her efficient tone, and was now gazing at Harry with open concern.

He wondered what to say.

"Snape." Harry replied shortly, eventually, by way of explanation, waiting for Minerva's annoyance that he had still not managed to overcome their 'difficulty'.

To his surprise, it did not come. Something akin to understanding washed over her usually-stern features.

"I know, Potter," Minerva gave him a small smile "Keep going. It will be worth it."

Harry snorted derisively "Is it worth missing limbs? Because I'm relatively certain that is what I'll end up with if I return to him any time soon…"

Harry flopped in to the chair, feeling dejected, and gratefully accepted the offered cup of tea from the conjured, hovering tray to his left.

"He blames me." he added, miserably, staring in to the spinning golden liquid as he stirred it.

"For what?" Minerva asked, eyeing him intensively over her own cup and saucer.

"For ensuring he survived the war," Harry replied, bitterly "How could…how could he even contemplate that I would leave him, after everything I'd seen that year, after everything he'd shown me? How could he have expected any of us just to walk away? It's just…" he blustered, feeling sickened, and suddenly wordless.

"Complex?" Minerva supplied, helpfully "Bewildering? Confusing?"

"I was going for selfish, but those too." Harry groused.

"Yes," Minerva reasoned "Severus does appear as if he is self-centredness personified, but I know better, Harry." she paused, peering at him.

"As do you." She added.

Harry sighed in response, still glaring at his tea, though a tinge of sadness now slithered in to his eyes.

"I don't think Severus ever planned on surviving the final battle, you know," Minerva began again, thoughtfully "To have that last piece of control over his life when it had been bound to others for so long must have been liberating for him, and then to have his choices removed by none other than you, well, that must have been a bitter pill to swallow."

"Look, it's not as if he left a note explaining his wishes or anything!" Harry said, defensively "I…none of us could witness any more death that day, let alone actively allow it to happen."

"I know, Harry, I know," she soothed "I daresay I would not have allowed it either, had I been in that situation. It seems a curious twist in the story that it was you who found him, you who came back for him. Or perhaps it was not curious at all…"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and smiled gently at her, this oldest of trusted friends and mentors "You're becoming superstitious in your old age, I think. That, or you've been spending too much time with him." Harry nodded towards Dumbledore, who was feigning a very convincing snooze against the edge of his portrait.

"Perhaps." Minerva agreed, flashing him a rare, true smile.

"Remember, Harry, that courage does not always roar. Sometimes it is the quiet voice that whispers 'try again tomorrow'."

Harry nodded, unconvinced, but feeling much better anyway.

"I'd better go," Harry stated as he got to his feet "Thanks for the tea." and the back-handed sympathy his mind supplied, though not unkindly "Goodnight."

Minerva smiled in reply as Harry threw a vague wave over his shoulder.

Harry was so lost in thought as he unconsciously began to trace the familiar route back to his quarters, that he almost didn't notice the frightened-looking first-year students scuttling toward him.

"Jacob, Richard…why do you look as if you have seen a ghost?" Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously "Is it a ghost? I know Peeves was causing trouble earlier…" Harry gestured in the general vicinity of the floor they were on but stopped when the pale-faced pupils vigorously shook their heads in tandem.

"Not a ghost sir…at least we don't think so anyway. We were leaving detention and got a bit lost in the dungeons and ended up somewhere we've never been before…then we heard banging and smashing and shouting as if it were coming from inside the walls, and we ran up here…" Jacob rambled, nibbling on his lip nervously.

"With whom were you serving your detention?" Harry enquired

"Uh…Professor Snape, Sir," Jacob shifted guiltily "We were supposed to finish at nine but we waited for forty minutes and he didn't come back, and we'd finished the cauldrons. We didn't want to miss curfew so we…um…left a note, we didn't know what else to do!" Jacob added, his voice sliding up an octave as his anxiety levels began to peak.

"It's ok, Jacob, I will speak to Professor Snape for you, and check on the disturbance too. Go on back to your dormitories. Goodnight."

The boys nodded, gratefully hurrying away, and Harry continued on in to the descending dungeon gloom which he had originally not planned on returning to for a while at least. He almost smiled to himself as he remembered that investigating disembodied voices in castle walls had never led him to anything pleasant in the past.

Harry's ears pricked as he heard a distinct, but faint, tinkling sound coming from a seemingly-smooth stretch of wall. He knew there were no classrooms in this, the deepest and furthest part of the dungeons.

Harry wondered as he slipped his palms over the stone, feeling the cool damp spread across his skin. He suddenly felt the brief hum of magic whisper over his senses, and knew he'd found a ward. A plan formed in his mind and, buoyed as he was by experience, instinct and Minerva's recent encouragement Harry murmured the words, only vaguely surprised when a heavy wooden door appeared slightly to his right.

The door was relatively unremarkable, though obviously heavy and well-made. It was characterised by an ornate stone carving which hung over the door in a semi-archway, a tell-tale, menacing, intricate serpent encasing the entrance to a well-hidden lair.

With no small amount of trepidation, Harry rapped his knuckles against the hard wood, the sound slapping across the echoing dungeons like a gun-shot in the silence.

Predictably, there was no answer. Inhaling a steadying breath, and bracing himself against the obstruction, and the secrets beyond, he un-latched the heavy metal handle and pushed the door open.

He had to blink twice to ensure the surreal scene before him was not, in fact, just a hallucination.

Snape was clinging to a heavy wooden desk in the corner of what was apparently his living room, in the process of shakily righting himself, seemingly from a fall. There was shattered, glittering glass expanding outwards from Snape, across the floor and the majority of the surfaces in the vicinity.

Once he'd recovered from the sight, his eyes raked over Snape, a horribly familiar anxiety sweeping through his being at the realisation that there was an alarming redness seeping through Snape's white shirt.

Without thinking, Harry crossed quickly towards Snape, sickening cracks crunching underfoot at his approach.

It was then that two things occurred to Harry- that suddenly, two dark orbs were slowly losing their bleary-unfocused air to stare at him with open malice, and that the smell of a well-functioning distillery were assaulting his senses as he edged forward.

Snape was blind drunk. And furious.

"Potter!" He spat, ugly venom lacing his words "How did you get in here?!"

"Emergency staff access." Harry frowned. He had been expecting a violent hex, not a question.

"That is meant for EMERGENCIES Potter!" Snape was gripping the desk, hard, trying not to sway and mostly failing. Harry was slightly impressed that he was able to string a coherent sentence together, given the man's current state. Though Harry also realised, with a nauseating prickle, that the swaying may not just be alcohol related.

"This looks pretty emergent to me." Harry gestured at the still-extending bleeding that was now splashing on to the stone floor in places "You need help…the hospital wi…"

"I most certainly do not!" Snape was looking unfocused again. Harry wondered how long it would be before the stubborn man was no longer on his feet.

"I beg to differ," Harry replied, coolly, with a calmness that didn't really extend to his emotions "Either way you will accept help, I would just prefer it if I didn't have to wait until you'd collapsed from excessive blood loss."

"I'm not going to the hospital wing."

"Fine," Harry replied, shortly, annoyance beginning to slide alongside his anxiety. Why was he so infuriating "I will floo-call Poppy." Harry turned towards the imposing marble fireplace, wondering only briefly where Snape's wand was and if turning his back on him was really a wise decision.

"You will do no such thing!" Snape snapped

"For goodness sake!" Harry shouted, rounding on Snape as his temper surged "If you will not accept assistance from outside-" Harry waved his wand and Snape was suddenly knocked off his feet as he was swept in to the air. Harry stoically ignored the urge to laugh at the sudden alarm sweeping the man's features "Then you are stuck here with me." he waved his wand again and Snape landed with a soft 'thunk' on the plush emerald sofa facing the fireplace, and a thoroughly irritated Harry.

"I do not need…"

"I disagree." Harry cut him off, as he silently caught Snape's wand as it soared through the air.

"You disarmed me?" Snape looked vaguely impressed, but mostly vexed as he gazed at Harry with vicious eyes.

"It is necessary." Harry replied, simply, still deciding how best to proceed in this most unexpected of situations.

"I can rectify this myself," Snape tried to gesture dismissively but failed as the movement obviously resulted in the painful twinge of an injury "I have more skill than a just-post-adolescent former student who barely completed a year of Medi-Wizard training." he continued through gritted teeth.

"Not under the influence of two…no…three?" Harry's eyes widened as he counted "…bottles of firewhiskey you don't."

"Only one of them was full." Snape countered, refusing to look at him.

Harry said nothing, rolling his eyes internally.

"Emmy?" Harry called, clearly, in to the awkward silence

A resounding, answering crack pierced the quiet as a house elf appeared. Harry felt a small pull of satisfaction as Snape winced at the intrusive noise.

"Professor Potter called?" the high-pitched squeak replied.

"Good evening, Emmy, would you be kind enough to fetch my kit please? The one in the black bag."

"Ofcourse Sir!" the elf disappeared and re-apparated almost instantaneously, carrying a large holdall that was bigger than she was. Harry received it gratefully and efficiently began to rifle through the contents, lost in thought.

"Are the Professors requiring anything else from Emmy?" The elf asked, politely

"No thank you Emmy, I'm grateful for your assistance. Goodnight."

"Goodnight sirs." she disappeared, leaving them alone.

Harry levitated the low coffee table closer to Snape and began to set out his supplies. Snape feigned disinterest as he did so.

"I'm going to need to see that to assess the damage fully." Harry nodded towards Snape's torso as he came to sit beside him.

Snape glared at him for a long moment, and then undid the buttons with surprisingly steady, agile fingers. It did not escape Harry's notice that the motion had revealed a slim but defined, smooth, though alarmingly glass-peppered chest, had caused the man's sinewy, strong forearms to ripple with the action. Harry was aware that he had never seen his former Professor out of his usual black attire, let alone 'dressed-down' in a white roll-sleeved shirt and soft, dark, linen trousers. Harry presumed these to be a Snape-like equivalent of lounge clothes. It unsettled him somewhat.

He tried not to suck in a breath as he took in the injuries- at least ten visible embedded shards of glass, two sickeningly large ones near the man's left hip and jutting out of his right side.

"Drink these please." Harry instructed, holding out two phials of an unlabelled potion

"I think not, Potter. What makes you think I'll be ingesting anything your incapable self has brewed?" Snape sneered

"They're your potions," Harry replied impatiently "I've just summoned them from your private stores." Harry smirked as Snape began to look rather indignant "You can lecture me later." Harry said quickly, aiming to divert the coming rant "There are pressing matters to attend too…" he added, pointedly gesturing towards the wounds which still continued to ooze stubbornly.

Snape uncorked them both and swallowed them efficiently.

"A calming draught and a sober-up potion? My Potter. You really do want me compliant don't you?"

"It would be helpful, Professor." Harry replied, a small smile on his lips as he waved his wand gently over Snape's lower abdomen, beginning his magical internal assessment "I considered an immobulus but decided I rather like my limbs and didn't want you cursing them off the moment I removed the charm."

"Wise decision Potter, something I'd never think you capable of." Snape snorted softly in reply, resting his head against the sofa as the draught took effect.

Harry repaired the internal damage first, stemming the small bleeds which, though not fatal, could have caused issues if left. Finally, he could put it off no longer- the foreign objects needed to come out.

"Professor, these have got to be removed." Harry began, slightly anxiously

"Obviously, Potter. I hardly wish to carry them around as a memento to this delightful evening for the rest of my existence." came the sharp reply

"I can't remove them with magic- I, er, didn't get as far as that module and though I know the theory, I'm not willing to test it." he resisted the urge to squirm guiltily.

Snape glared, maliciously, but gave no indication as to whether he could continue.

"I could always get Poppy…" Harry suggested, quietly. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Get on with it then." He said, eventually, sounding resigned.

Harry began by extracting the two largest shards using his hands, ignoring Snape's slight intakes of breath and the rigid set of his profile. He never made a sound, though Harry knew it must have been excruciating by the thin veil of sweat now sheening over Snape's skin and the clouded, far-away look in his eyes. He continued the rest with small tweezers and forceps, working them free, healing the wound with his wand, and dropping the glass with a rhythmic 'plink' in to the metal dish at his side.

"I'm sorry." Harry murmured gently as he slid the last, slim but deadly sharp sliver out of Snape's skin.

Snape visibly relaxed and Harry inspected his work. The injuries were still evident; pink, puckered, shiny skin in which the magic would work from inside-out to heal, but there was no more bleeding. The areas traversed, Harry realised, older, bolder, previously deeper scars that settled there, white and purple in their memory. Echoes of a life Harry had only really began to understand recently.

"I just need to check this one," Harry moved his index finger a few inches above Snape's left hip, to indicate where one of the larger shards had been "Check the scar tissue underneath, I mean, sometimes adhesions can cause problems in this area, the piece embedded near your bowel. May I?"

Snape nodded, tensing only slightly when Harry's fingertips gently indented the tender skin, pressing to feel the tissue underneath.

The far edge of the wound disappeared under the edge of Snape's trousers, and Harry really did need to feel the edges to be thorough…

"Uh, can you…?" Harry gestured "I need to feel underneath. Sorry." Harry mumbled, wondering why he felt so awkward all of a sudden when he had done such things numerous times on the wards of the hospital without even a prickle of discomfort. Whilst Harry had been able to work the glass free easily and slip it out from under the clothing without having to lower the trousers, he knew he would not be so lucky now.

Snape complied silently, quickly undoing the button, releasing the tension of the waistband. Raising his hips slightly off the sofa, he tugged on the material to bring them down a couple of centimetres, revealing more of the long, recently-healed scar and the hollow of his slim hip.

The action had been a fraction of a second, done quietly, efficiently, yet it had caused Harry's stomach to flip over. He swallowed as he realised Snape was gazing at him rather expectantly, an unreadable expression in his liquid eyes.

Gently, Harry replaced his fingers, which retained the warmth of work and movement and Snape's skin, sliding them under the edge of the waistband to investigate the edge of the wound. Harry found it a centimetre or so down, and he cautiously felt around it, swallowing again when he needed to slip the edge of two fingers inside another waistband. Another waistband that he knew to be Snape's underwear. He felt the strong core abdominal muscles under his fingers shift slightly.

Harry was content that there was no damage within seconds, and he withdrew as quickly and gently as he could, reluctant to raise his eyes to assess Snape's face as he did so.

That had been so uncomfortably intimate, particularly given that they'd been shouting at each other, hating each other, so utterly just a few hours before. Why hadn't Snape said anything? It was unlike him to be so quiet, to miss an opportunity to humiliate Harry. The man was incredibly perceptive and Harry knew his discomfort would not have gone unnoticed.

Harry tidied quickly, still not looking at Snape. He spoke, willing his voice to be steady.

"Please let me know if you feel anything other than residual soreness…take these…" he placed a blood-replenishing and pain-relieving potion on the table "And apply this," he placed a jar of pink balm next to the phials "Before bed. I'll need to check the wounds tomorrow. I'll come by in the morning."

When Snape opened his mouth to protest Harry finally met Snape's eyes and levelled his best, firm gaze at the man in front of him "It's me or Poppy Pomfrey, who will no doubt be delighted to know how you came by those injuries. Your choice." the man scowled and Harry almost smiled at the defeat.

"Also, I encountered your two detentionees on the way down here, they'd apparently been forgotten and were rather alarmed by the disturbance you'd created. I gave them permission to return to their dormitories."

"Frankly, I'm astounded you have not grilled me on how I sustained these wounds." Snape replied, ignoring his mention of the pupils.

"I'm not as interested in that as I am in why you got them." Harry replied, congratulating himself on extending the olive branch Minerva and Hermione had been desperate for him to try. Harry hoped that it wasn't a sharp one though, as he was fairly sure he was about to get whacked with it.

"Don't worry Potter, you won't come down here to find me swinging from the Chandelier." Snape said, rather conversationally.

Harry felt sick. He closed his eyes against the sudden image, pausing in re-packing the now-clean metal instruments.

"Please…just, don't," Harry whispered "I…I couldn't have walked away, you know, even if I'd have known that you wanted me to. Not after…everything."

"I know, Potter." Harry's eyes snapped open at the softest tone he'd ever heard coming from his former Professor. He watched Snape intently, wishing he could understand the depths of this man. Harry considered himself mildly skilled at reading people, and he was relatively sure, though not certain, that Snape's features were tinged with regret, remorse even, but for which complex memory Harry could only begin to guess at.

He nodded in response, turning to leave, knowing he would not get a thank you, or an apology, but not really caring either.

Harry remembered something almost as he reached the door.

"Professor?" he directed, holding up the glass container of a final potion "I'll leave this for you too. I recommend using it tonight."

Snape nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes following Harry's hand as he placed it on a small table by the stone archway.

"At night…" Snape began, continuing to gaze at the phial of Dreamless Sleep.

Harry understood "The demons come…" he finished, leaving the words in the air, not waiting for a response, an odd feeling in his chest as he was engulfed by the claustrophobic darkness of the dungeon hallway.

Review? Please? Thank you! :)