A/N Heres this chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Save Me, No One
Chapter 14
After focusing hard on the supposed address of Severus Snape, Harry landed (again, ungracefully on his bum) in a very disused neighborhood that smelled like gasoline, smoke, and alcohol. The buildings were tall, but thin, all done in a dark red brick. In the distance, a falling down mill stood on a hillside, playing guardian to the sea and the town.
Harry coughed slightly, the smoke from the factories and the strong smell of kerosene burning his throat and lungs.
He stood looking around. The street was narrow, and orange streetlights flickered ominously, making the fog surrounding him feel more like a thick woolen blanket. But despite that, the wind was biting, tearing at his summer Muggle clothes. Little droplets of rain made those annoying spots on his glasses that would smear if he wiped them off. 'I could use magic, but what if he lives in a Muggle community?' Harry guessed that was the case, seeing as there was streetlights instead of lanterns.
He looked up at Number 24 Spinners End with a sense of foreboding mingling with his apprehension. The house was in severe need of refurbishing, much like the other houses on the block. Only, his house seemed a bit more closer to being on the To Be Condemned List. The bricks were colapsing in some places, and several of the thick dirty windows were cracked or totally broken. A few even had boards covering them. The door was crooked, sort of halfway hanging from the hinges.
"At least he doesn't live in a dungeon and sleep in a coffin," Harry muttered, though he still felt uneasy. 'Why was Snape's house so bad off?'
The boy knocked quietly on the door, afraid that if he did make a louder sound, people-no-Inferi would come charging out of the mist. Or toothless perverts or half-naked women-
'Darn you, Charles Dickens!' Harry sighed, shaking his head. He knocked harder.
The door was slowly opened, to reveal an ebony eye, a long roman-hooked nose, and a strand of lank black hair.
"Professor?" Harry almost whispered. There was something wrong, he could see it in the man's eyes.
The door was painfully pushed the rest of the way open, as Snape turned, walking into the dark rooms. Harry followed, biting his lip nervously.
The room he was lead into was small, but not cramped. It only had a chair, coffee table, and a couch; everything well worn and beat up. The bookshelves, that were probably once stuffed with books, were nearly empty, looking as though something had taken huge bites out of the rows of literature. Severus settled into the chair in the darkened corner, Harry on the couch. The teenager waited for the man to serve tea, which was typical. But no tea came, only a question.
"W-what a-ar-re you d-do-oing her-ere?" Snape asked throatily, his voice hoarse from disuse. Harry felt a stab of annoyance that his Professor was remaining in the shadows, while he sat on the threadbare couch.
"I came to check up on you. You have everyone at Hogwarts worried to death! And you have been holed up in HERE?" Harry growled, a strange anger overtaking him.
Snape had sunken down into a big chair. "Harry-"
"DONT! Do NOT call me Harry! You think just because you stopped me from killing myself you have the right?!"
Severus flinched back further into the shadows. His voice quiet, the man whispered, "I kn-know I do not h-ha-ave the right. But-"
"But nothing! You know, you were the one that pushed me into that state in the first place!" Harry ranted, enjoying how his enemy was withdrawing further into the shadows. All the bottled up emotions Harry had accumulated came rushing out full force at the man.
"YOU DESTROYED ME! Don't you understand?! YOU destroyed ME!" Harry collapsed wrapping his arms protectively around himself. "It shouldn't have hurt that much. But ya know what? It did."
Harry shook himself, hating that he lost control. "I shouldn't have come."
"P-Po-t-t-te-er," came a trembling voice. Harry froze. There was something wrong with the man. Very wrong.
The inner Mediwizard took over, as he swooped down on the man, enchanting all the lights on. Harry took the man's face into his slightly trembling hands, forcing the man to look up.
Harry nearly choked.
Severus was so gaunt, worse than Harry ever got at the Dursleys. His skin looked as though it was made of flour, as white and chalky as it was. The cheeks were flushed a dark red though, making the dark circles under the man's dead eyes stand out even more. Snape's hair was longer, greasier. The man had kept up on his shaving at least. But the clothes he wore! Baggy trousers, extremely loose woolen socks, a big moth holed t shirt, with a thick loose cardigan over it, all in a dingy dark grey color. All those clothes only made the emaciated man look smaller and weaker.
"Professor?!" Harry exclaimed, seeing the glassy eyes, and feeling how hot he was. The man though, was shivering, eyeing a pile of rumpled, thin, patched up blankets on the couch with a strong wanting, that made the young Mediwizard sick to his stomach. "Professor, what happened?"
The man sunk further into the chair, trying to escape Harry's hands. "Pl-please d-don't tou-t-touch my s-sk-kin. Pleas-se!"
Harry nodded, letting go, worriedly. "When was the last time you have eaten?"
The man closed his tired eyes, breathing in through his nose a few times. "A few weeks ag-ago," he said slowly, steadying his voice. "Funds ran out... Stupid employers... Death Eater... Worked for Light... Crappy teaching salaries," was muttered bitterly. Harry nodded, trying to string some semblance of an actual sentence together from the jumbled phrases.
Then it hit him. 'A FEW WEEKS?!'
Harry quickly cast a packing charm for Snape, but the only things that flew into the awaiting bag were a couple well-worn robes, a few thick notebooks, some pictures, his teaching clothes, and more of the baggy grey clothes the man wore now. Snape, as weak and sick as he was, didn't notice.
"We're leaving," Harry muttered, more to himself than the nearly unconscious man. He was surprised at his rashness, his decision about taking Snape away. But... He really shouldn't be. After all, he was a rash Gryffandor.
Harry felt anger and guilt. Anger at the man, for drawing out THESE emotions. Guilt, for causing the man all the suffering.
'You didn't cause this, you dunderhead. You told him to leave you alone; not quit his job, leave Hogwarts, move into a crappy building, run out of money, starve, freeze, get sick...'
Harry shook his head hard, Trying to clear the annoying voice out of his head. He needed his wits about him if he was going to Apparate Snape to his home.
'My home,' Harry thought, bewilderedly. 'Oh, Harry Potter, what have you got yourself into now?'
A/N And we travel to Harry's home. Healing anyone? And something bad...
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