Chapter 37: A Light of Hope

Harry slowly opened the door to Snape's chambers. It was well after nightfall as he had Fred talked into the wee hours of the morning. "Sev?" he whispered, shutting the door. Please don't be pissed. He found Severus passed out on his library couch, an empty firewhiskey glass on the end table. Carefully, Harry touched his arm. "Sev, go to bed. You're sleeping."

He squinted in the dim light. "You're home."

"Yeah, now go to bed." I'll apologize in the morning—well later, he thought.

Snape got up, without argument and shuffled to his room.

Harry listened to the tell-tale creek of his bed before going to his own room. He stripped and climbed under the covers that still smelled like his potions master. Though he was tired, he couldn't sleep—his back was killing him. Harry tossed and turned, he positioned his legs differently, nothing worked. Finally, he gave up and stared at the ceiling until the clock read 6:00. He maneuvered himself back into his chair and went over to his dresser.

Riffling through the drawers, he eventually found one of the knives he'd hid. He turned it over in his hands, a high-quality potion knife, forged from dragon scale. Guilt stabbed at his chest as he remembered taking it from Snape's lab. He was working on homework while Sev brewed an advanced elixir. They'd been up half the night and Harry was itching to cut again. Snape had confiscated all but two of his blades and he was terrified of losing more. The dragon scale knife was a pale white, but when the light hit it properly, it had a faint rainbow hue. It was gorgeous. The potions master turned to grab a jar of spider legs and Harry went for it. In one motion, he slipped it off the table and into his pocket. He moved it slightly, and smiled at the rainbow. Its colour had dulled, from lack of proper care, but it was still just as sharp. Harry pulled down his boxers, just enough to expose his hip, and sliced three thin lines into his flesh. Guilt mingled with relief, not giving him the same release he was expecting. He made another cut, to the same effect. Frowning, he wrapped the knife back up and stowed it before bandaging himself.

Harry pulled on a pair of sweatpants and went into the library, trying to distract himself. Next to the empty firewhiskey glass, there was an open book he hadn't noticed. Snape's scrawl ran through every margin, nearly between every line. He could barely decipher the text itself. Harry looked at the cover, but it was too worn and faded to read.

"Looking for something?" Severus asked. His hair was messy from sleep, and his voice hadn't quite woken up.

He dropped the book. "Er, no, I just couldn't sleep."

Snape picked it up and tucked it under his arm. "You disappeared yesterday."

Harry stared at the ground. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry… I'm sorry for being so shitty lately."

He resisted making a snarky comment and instead took the empty firewhiskey glass and put it back in the cabinet. At Harry's questioning glance, he said, "I never actually got around to filling it." Severus sat down on the couch with a sigh. His body ached, he'd been up, double and triple checking his notes, trying to make sure Harry would be okay. "To address your earlier statement, I understand you're frustrated." He paused. "And I think now might be an appropriate time to inform you, I've been working on a potion to help you." Severus looked up to see Harry staring back, his piercing, green eyes fixed on his. "It's technically still in an experimental phase, but, if you're interested—"

"Yes," he interrupted. "Yes, I want to try it." His shoulders squared, and head high, he appeared more alive than he had in weeks. His eyes burned with the fire that Severus had worried he'd never see again.

You have to understand the risks—"

"I don't need to know the risks. I'm not getting any better. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Death." He blurted. It killed him to say it "You could die," Snape said seriously.

"Or I could be out of pain, or I could walk, or I could jump into your arms. We don't know unless I try." The fire didn't dull, it seemed to burn brighter. He was determined to make this work.

Severus sighed.

Harry took his hand. "You are the best potions master I know. I'm confident in you, in your work."

"If something happened—"

"I wouldn't blame you. And you can't blame yourself," he said quickly. "I am making this decision. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he said begrudgingly.

"Yes what? I need to hear you say it." His eyes hardened; he wasn't going to let Severus blame himself.

"Yes, I understand you are making the decision to drink a potion I created."

Harry shot him a look, but accepted the answer. "When can I take it?"

"I'll call Poppy. Once she's here, we can begin."

Harry cocked his head. "Why does she need to come?"

"It's experimental. I would feel more comfortable having two healers nearby in case something goes awry."

It hardly took the medi-witch ten minutes to arrive. She let herself in and found Harry in his bed with Snape furiously pacing the floor. "Hi, Harry. How are you feeling?"

"I'm ready."

She nodded and started casting spells to monitor his heartrate and breathing.

Severus had already stock-piled anything they could need against the back wall of Harry's room. He was tracing the smooth glass vial with his thumb, the green liquid swirled ominously beneath it. His heart pounded in his eardrums and he missed when Poppy said they were ready.

"Severus?"

"Mmm?"

"We're ready."

He swallowed hard and handed Harry the vial. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he said, uncorking the potion. It smelled vile. "Ugh."

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

Harry tipped his head back and finished it in one swallow. "How long do we have to wait?

"I don't know." Severus felt ill. He sat in a chair and put his head in his hands. Merlin, I killed him.

"Hey," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm here, it's okay."

Snape took it, but didn't say anything. He couldn't. Please let it work. Please. Bile tried to make its way up his throat but he forced it back down. I have to be strong for Harry. He sat taller, forcing himself to breathe, and tightened his grip around Harry's hand.