A/N: Hey, so, new chapter. Hope you'll like it, and review if you do. Or if you don't, whatever… *cool uncaring face*
Chapter Eight
Harry didn't go around feeling any residue of the spell or any emotion about casting it. He felt nothing. He couldn't even remember her face anymore. She was just one of many, and if he would remember all of them he would go crazy.
So he went on with his life and he didn't think about anything but now. 'Now' was a good word. 'Now' wasn't bad for Harry. He wasn't hungry, he wasn't injured, he wasn't dead. That was good. 'Before' and 'yesterday' and 'tomorrow' weren't so good, but who cared? There was just the present, really. That was all he had to worry about.
He ducked another spell that Bellatrix cast and rolled to the side, casting a fast counter curse. Bellatrix always got distracted by her anger, and when they were duelling Harry often took advantage of the fact that she felt a lot of anger towards him. It was easy to rile her up and when she got riled up she got clumsy and made mistakes. Her spells were poorly aimed now and she had begun spitting out insults, a good sign for Harry.
She had begun circling around the room, her eyes narrowed and her breathing uneven. She spat out some insult that Harry wasn't listening to, because he was concentrated on her movements. He tried to anticipate her next move, as she'd reluctantly taught him, and when she shot off a burning curse he knew before she'd even lifted her wand. He sent it propelling back to her, and it hit her in the gut, sending her flying across the room.
Harry let his right hand, still clutching his wand, fall to his side as he stood still, letting his breathing even out. Bellatrix lay gasping and clutching her stomach, propping herself up against the wall. She wasn't seriously injured, the ball of fire had only hit fabric, which was now only slightly scorched.
The sharp smell of smoke spread through the room slowly, the bitter taste filling up Harry's mouth, making him cough. He took a step towards Bellatrix and she turned her red, embarrassed face away from him, hissing out a "Get out!" before she let out a pathetic sob.
Harry realised a second too late that he shouldn't have turned his back to her. Her spell hit his back hard, knocking the air out of him, and he remembered falling and reaching his hands out to the fast approaching floor before loosing consciousness.
/
When Harry woke up, Snape was there, sitting next to him. He didn't seem to notice Harry had woken up, because he seemed distant and distraught, looking down at his hands resting in his lap.
Harry looked around slowly, not feeling worried at all even though there was a searing pain in his back, because some part of him knew things were safe, just because Snape was there. Silly.
He was in his bed, he knew that because over Snape's shoulder he saw himself, pale and drowsy, in the big mirror.
"Harry?" Snape asked quietly, leaning over him, his dark eyes worried.
"What happened? What did she do?" Harry asked and pushed himself up, ignoring the pain.
"Hey", Snape said sharply, but still quietly. "Don't move."
"This is ridiculous. It doesn't hurt that bad", he said as Snape warningly putting his hands on his shoulders, keeping him still.
"Don't lie", Snape said, leaning back in the chair by the bed, not letting Harry out of his sight.
He sat quietly and watched Harry and the room with muted interest until he noticed Harry's eyes on him.
"Would you like some numbing potion?" he asked and Harry shook his head. He liked the pain, it made him stay focused.
"Why are you here?" Harry asked, not that he minded Snape being there. He liked the dark sort of comfort it gave him.
"I'm supposed to administer your potions", he said and hesitated a second before continuing, "And I didn't think you should be alone when you woke up."
Harry smiled slightly and said, "How caring of you", earning a smirk from Snape.
"Why though?" Harry asked, faking bemusement. "You used to hate me."
Snape lowered his eyes slightly, just a subtle sign that he might be ashamed.
"I never hated you", he said and when Harry started to argue he explained, "I hated your father."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "He treated you like crap, didn't he?"
"Well, I didn't treat him very well either", Snape said, rationally, and it sounded forced, like he'd told himself so many times it sounded like the truth.
Harry moved his eyes from Snape to the mirror, eyeing himself critically. "Do I still remind you of him?"
"No", Snape hurried to say, sounding almost nervous. "You're..."
Harry smiled again when Snape cut himself off, and when he turned to him, Snape was looking at him intently, his eyes boring into Harry's own. Harry rarely looked people in the eyes, he knew that was a way to expose himself, to open himself up to Legilimency, but when it came to Snape he found he didn't care. He wanted Snape to know what he was thinking.
"I'm what?" Harry asked and leaned forward now, but Snape just gave a small twitch to indicate that he wanted to force him to lie down again.
"You're... You're not at all like your father. You never were", Snape said in a level voice, leaning closer too.
Harry wanted to touch him then, to kiss him, and Snape must have known somehow, because he leaned over and stroked Harry's cheek with a long, sleek hand, his thumb moving slowly over Harry's bottom lip.
/
James Potter had never been this damaged. He hated himself for thinking it, for almost saying it, because how could this perfect, beautiful Harry Potter ever be described as even close to damaged. But he knew it was true, even if he wanted to tell himself it wasn't, that Potter was perfectly fine. He was damaged, and Severus wasn't sure if he wanted him to be repaired, if that was even possible. The dark desire to keep him this depressed and miserable, just to keep him close, was almost overbearing. It was selfish, he knew that and he knew it was wrong of him, and he wanted so badly to ignore the sensible and righteous part of himself, but he knew he had to listen to him eventually.
Potter leaned in and pressed his lips against Severus' and in that moment he actually could quiet that part of his mind that screamed that he had to let him be happy, and that he never could be that with Severus.
He was so soft, so fragile, so wonderful to touch and hold and taste. Potter pulled away with a soft intake of breath, smiling shyly up at him.
"I have to leave soon", Severus whispered and his smile wavered.
"You always have to leave soon", he said, placing a soft kiss against his cheek. "I don't want you to leave."
God. Severus didn't think anyone had ever said that to him. 'I don't want you to leave'. It made a bittersweet feeling rise up in his stomach, and when he spoke he found it was hard to get the words out.
"I don't want to leave either", he got out and brushed Potter's jet-black hair away from his face, just to occupy his hands with something else than clinging to Potter like he was drowning.
Soon you're leaving too. The words were both dreaded and welcome, but Severus didn't say them. Potter was leaving Voldemort, and this part of his life behind him soon, and then he could forget all this darkness and pain. Severus did want that, he did, he thought as he looked up into the emerald green eyes, even if it meant that Harry would forget Severus too.
