A/n: New chapter…huzzah! Disclaimer: this is JK's etc. And it's rated R for cursies (not the magical kind har har har…well, them too). And I noticed some of you wonderful lovely reviewers who make my life worth living have a hankering for some slashy goodness. Well, much as I love reading HP/SS scenarios (especially Sushi and Minx, check them out!), this story is not slash. But if anyone's interested in writing an AU of this AU, feel free, as long as you email me first. Or maybe I'll write an AU of my AU, if I ever finish this thing. But this chapter is dedicated to all you HP/SS fans out there. Nice little conversation between the boys that you could read into if you're desperate. J
Harry opened his eyes, saw only brilliant white, and thought to himself, "If this is heaven, it's rather cliched." But if the presence of pain in several parts of his body was enough to throw his guess of locale into suspicion, the sound of Wynn bellowing "What the FUCK happened?" was enough to convince Harry that he was not dead, and that he should probably close his eyes if he wanted to hear the answer to that question.
"Calm down, Wynn," Remus Lupin very nearly growled.
"No, I want to know exactly where the hell you two were when this happened?" Wynn snarled right back. There was a stretch of silence, and Harry could only guess that somewhere in there Ron and Hermione were searching for the answer to Wynn's question.
"Now Wynn," Dumbledore began, and Harry almost sighed in relief knowing that the Headmaster was around to keep things from getting out of hand. But then-
"No, he's right Headmaster. We were totally unprepared," Hermione mumbled, her voice like gravel, like hardened tears. Harry usually left people before he ever had to hear that noise. Maybe I should have left…maybe I shouldn't have wok- but Harry stopped that train of thought before it could reach the station. Only once in his life, back on Privet Drive when the cupboard and the one light bulb and the spiders and the heat of the summer and the suffocation had gotten to his head, had Harry ever Ever thought he'd be better off dead. Now, with people around him that obviously cared about him and who he half-loved, he wasn't about to piss them off with self-negating thoughts.
"But you're not expected to-" Remus began, before being cut off by a real growl from Wynn and an interruption from Ron.
"We are expected to, Professor Lupin. We've been training for months for this, and I didn't even have my wand out until Malfoy was knocked out cold. Even then, I didn't notice Macnair until he'd pulled his knife." The self-hatred in Ron's voice prompted Harry to join the waking world.
"To be fair, neither did I," he said, taking note of how hoarse his voice sounded.
"Harry!" Wynn exclaimed, rushing over to embrace his godson but gratefully being intercepted by Remus before any damage could be done.
"Thank God you're awake," Hermione sniffled from across the room.
"Was it in doubt?" Harry asked, trying to smile but genuinely curious…as if "curious" could cover the anxiety that he felt…that "well, that was unexpected" could have been his last words. Not exactly the dignified send off he'd always imagined. Maybe something from Tennyson. Or Keats, depending on how pissed off he was at the time.
"You've been in a coma for three days," Ron grinned, trusting that everyone knew it wasn't that he was grinning about.
"Malfoy?" Harry asked. He'd get back to the coma thing later.
"In custody," Dumbledore answered. "Not what Voldemort had planned, I assume."
"The whole thing doesn't make sense," Remus interjected. "He should have known that Harry wouldn't be completely helpless. And Lucius Malfoy is not the type to make a proud and public display of where his loyalties lie. Even if it is obvious to anyone, he is always trying to keep some semblance of innocence in case he's caught. I don't understand this move on his part. And a knife? Since when do Death Eaters resort to that?"
"Well, it was Walden Macnair," Snape answered. Harry hadn't even noticed the other people in the room; Snape, Minerva and Madam Pomfrey were all leaning against the bed beside Harry's in the Hogwarts infirmary.
"Last time I checked, I'm the only dangerous creature in this room," Remus snapped, obviously severely unsettled if he forgot himself in front of Ron and Hermione. Luckily, they were too preoccupied to notice.
"How do you feel, Harry?" Hermione asked, moving closer to take his hand.
Oddly numb. "Fine," he answered. "Where are my friends?"
"They were memory charmed and sent back to the flat," Ron answered. "They think you had to go away for a funeral. You were to call them if you woke up."
"If?" Harry asked. Pesky coma had worked its way back into his mind.
"Harry, how do you really feel?" Snape asked.
At that moment, Harry felt very amused, because he could almost hear Ron's jaw dropping, probably astonished that Snape had used Harry's first name.
"Sore. Which is strange, because I feel numb, too. Does that make sense?" Then he noticed nearly every pair of eyes look down and away and anywhere but into his. Except Snape's. No, Severus isn't the type. "What was on the knife?"
"Shrivelfig. Asphodel. Mercury."
"Did you get it out?"
"A certain percentage."
"Enough?"
"No."
"Can you all leave please?" Harry asked, this time his eyes looking down and away, because he was exactly the type.
Even if some of them didn't know what was at stake here, they began to file out of the room. Except- "I can stay if you'd like," Severus offered.
"No, it's fine. Just give me a minute to check for myself. I mean, you can't tell for sure, can you?" Harry asked.
"No, we couldn't tell anything until you woke up," Snape answered.
"Do me a favor and explain it to Ron and Hermione, yeah?"
"And Wynn," Snape smiled, closing the door behind him.
Harry breathed in and out for a few minutes, trying to brace himself for disappointment. Shrivelfig. Asphodel. Mercury. Magic could cure a severed spinal cord if applied in time. But those three ingredients…
Harry turned his head to the side.
He flexed his fingers.
He used his arm to pull himself into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard.
He twisted his trunk from left to right.
He tried to wiggle his toes. No, don't think about that yet. Other things before toes.
He tried to bend his knees. No. Don't.
He tried to move his hips. It was an awkward motion, leaning against the headboard, but he managed it. Thank heaven for small miracles. At least I can still…
He briefly thought about testing for…virility, but decided that it would be mortally embarrassing if the better part of the Hogwarts staff walked in during that diagnostic. Besides, with these drugs, impotence wasn't really the worrying factor. Most people were too dead at this point to care.
Now back to the knees and toes. Harry used what little upper arm strength he had to pull his legs up and hang them over the side of the bed. Still no control. This simply won't do. I'd have a hell of a time maneuvering about the castle in a wheel chair. Too many bloody stairs. Harry couldn't believe the touch of levity in his interior monologue, but he also couldn't believe that he couldn't walk. So it must have been the shock.
"Fuck this," he whispered to himself, and concentrated with everything he was on his feet. Willing them to move. And they did. Just not how he'd hoped.
"You can come back in," Harry announced, having opened the infirmary door to the people waiting for him.
He turned his back on the shocked faces and willed himself back onto the bed, concentrating on moving his legs in a natural stride and on keeping his feet as close to the ground as possible. And on keeping his composure, hiding the fact that sustaining such a magnified Levitation spell in his weakened condition was making him light headed and a little sick to the stomach.
"Nearly perfect, Harry. Now you just need to add footsteps and you'll be fooling everyone," Snape said, as gently as he could. Wynn must have missed the finer nuances.
"What are you on about? He looks fine to me, walking around. You're just trying to scare everyone," Wynn scowled, but to be honest with himself, he had noticed the way Harry had relied on his arms to get himself adjusted on the bed.
"You have to levitate yourself?" Remus asked.
"Yes," Harry answered, wondering briefly if he'd ever be able to fly again. Probably. It was mostly in the arms and in the heart, Wynn had said. But what about the other flying? Shit. That's the spirit.
"I didn't think you could do that," Hermione observed, reverting to her scholarly role to hide the desperate sense of guilt she was feeling.
"How's the rest of your mobility?" Snape asked, ignoring the hovering question.
"Nothing below the hips, but everything else is fine," Harry answered. "Except my back is killing me."
"Here," Pomfrey interrupted, shoving a vial in his hand before making herself busy on the other side of the room.
"We'll come up with something, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You can't be devoting your energy and concentration to this when…"
When I'm meant to kill Voldemort. Harry was almost mad that Dumbledore hadn't come out and said it. But then, he was mad at nearly everything right now, and choosing Albus Dumbledore as his target made no sense when people like Macnair were in the picture. "What exactly do you think he meant to accomplish here?" he asked, directing his question at Severus and Remus. "As you said, I'm not completely helpless. Do you think Voldemort was so full of himself that he thought he could just stab me once and be done? No, don't answer that. Do you think he meant to kill me?"
"Yes," Ron answered, even though he supposed it wasn't his place.
"I agree with Mr. Weasley," Snape answered. "If he was still interested in recruiting you, he wouldn't have made so serious a threat. Assuming this wasn't some half-cocked scheme by Malfoy and Macnair to gain favor. That possibility aside, this was an attempt on your life. Voldemort has nothing to gain by just maiming you. Am I correct in assuming that now you want his demise to be even more painful?"
Harry just smiled at that, and at the look of horror on Hermione's face, as if wishing for anyone's death was the most twisted thing in the world. Or maybe she thinks Severus making a joke is twisted.
"Why not Avada Kedavra then?" Minerva asked, the first time Harry'd heard from her all morning. "And why give up on recruiting him so quickly? We know that in some cases he's courted perspective Death Eaters for years."
"He must be more desperate than we thought," Remus answered. "For him to give up on a very powerful wizard like Harry, he must think that any chance that Harry would come after him is enough of a threat to warrant death."
"What about the curse?" Wynn asked.
"Macnair's pride in his ability to slay his prey has often gotten him into trouble with the Dark Lord," Snape suggested.
"Possibly," Dumbledore answered, obviously not settling on any explanation. "I think it's best if you two return to London," he continued, leveling his gaze at Ron and Hermione.
"But Harry-"
"Will be fine," Dumbledore finished. "And you, Mr. Weasley, need to acclimate yourself to a Muggle environment. As for you, Miss Granger, could you please see to Harry's friends? Tell them that they are free to stay in the flat until the end of the month, and that Harry will write to them soon. Harry, I don't think it wise that you leave the protection of the school at this time."
"No, I don't suppose you would," Harry answered, reluctantly waving goodbye to his friends as they slipped out of the hospital wing. Once they were gone, Harry asked the others to leave, holding Snape back with a glance. Wynn looked as if he wanted to say something about that, but thankfully Remus grabbed him by the elbow and led him off to Hagrid's Hut, where Wynn meant no doubt to vent his frustrations about the entire matter, probably choosing to focus most of his anger at himself, with a little of Ron and Hermione for variety.
"You need to rest," Snape said, once everyone was gone. He sat down on the bed beside Harry, looking oddly uncomfortable in his casual posture and not knowing what to do with his legs as they dangled against the high bed frame.
"Haven't I been in a coma for three days?" Harry asked, keeping his mind off the failure of his calves to stretch like he wanted them to by turning his attention to the scratchy linen pajamas he was in. He'd never owned pajamas before, being a financial nonentity when he was a child and too embarrassed to buy his own when he was older. And just who had but these things on him, he wondered.
"It's not the same thing," Snape snapped, now looking much more in his element.
"You're just aching to yell at me, aren't you?" Harry grinned, glad for the distraction.
"Is that an invitation?" Snape asked.
"Look, I know I fucked up," Harry sighed. Self-blame was just as good as anything. "I didn't realize that Malfoy was trying to distract me until after I disarmed him."
"As I understand it, he wasn't even armed," Snape answered.
"Yeah. Why is that?"
"Strips him of culpability. 'I don't know why Potter attacked me, Minister. The boy must be mad! I didn't even have my wand on me,'" he whined, doing what Harry assumed was a melodramatic impression of Malfoy.
"Maybe that's the grand plot, getting me thrown in Azkaban for being cocky."
"In your defense, I'm assuming that Macnair was not in the room until your back was turned," Snape admitted grudgingly.
"So why do you want to yell at me?" Harry asked. He knew of course, but it was easier to keep talking. He had the sinking suspicion that sooner than later his blasé attitude about being effectively paralyzed would wear off.
"For not thinking of this scenario!" Snape yelled, the effect nearly lost as he primly crossed his legs, trying to stop himself from swinging the to and fro.
"But you-"
"I know I didn't! I suppose you think I owe you something," Snape sneered.
"Why would I think that? Not your fault."
Snape merely snorted.
"Well, there is the apprenticeship," Harry answered.
"You're supposed to go outside of Hogwarts for that," Snape answered. "And preferably choose something in law enforcement."
"I thought I was grounded?"
"There are some people that can still be trusted, as much as it revolts my cynical nature to admit it," Snape answered.
"I thought you owed me something?"
"You were supposed to refute that. Besides, extra hours of my company is hardly compensation."
"How about I cripple you and we call it even?" Harry grinned, knowing that it would be even more infuriating than if he's sounded bitter.
"Perhaps I don't feel as guilty as I thought. This could be a blessing in disguise, a just punishment for those theatrics of yours."
"That's the spirit! Can't have you roaming the halls, wailing your contrition. Now help me up. I need to see if I can keep myself vertical and have enough left over to protect myself," Harry answered, trying once again to pull his legs closer and over the edge of the bed.
"If this is just an excuse to have me bouncing off the walls again-"
"Come on, grab my arm, will you?" Harry practical panted, his dizziness from earlier returning. "I'll obviously have to build these arms up if I'm going to get anywhere."
"What, and ruin your girlish figure?" Snape grinned.
"Bastard."
The two spent the next twenty minutes testing Harry's ability to multitask. He was fairly certain that he wouldn't be able to chew gum and "walk" at the same time anymore, but he was oddly comforted that his ability to dodge some charms seemed to have improved. Of course, he doubted that Death Eaters would resort to laughing spells and tickling charms like Snape was using, but it amounted to the same thing. Sort of. "Try summoning or banishing something," Snape suggested, satisfied that Harry had perfected the art of levitating himself out of harm's way, at least when it came from a wand hand that wasn't exactly trying to kill him. Harry took Snape's advice and soon the potions master was pinned against the ceiling and on the verge of testing Harry's reflexes with a more painful spell. With the most convincing laugh and apology Harry could manage, he lowered Snape back to the ground and floated himself back to sit on the side of the bed, extremely winded from the effort of doing so.
"Would you like me to leave now?" Snape asked, forgoing his planned tirade in favor of sentimental concern that would be more damaging to the young man's pride.
"Do you think I'll break down and cry when you do?" Harry asked. Ah, there's the bitterness.
"I don't know you well enough to answer that."
"I don't think I know myself well enough to answer, either," Harry muttered. But he was betting on "no". As long as he could still fly as a falcon, he'd be fine. If he couldn't…
"I could tell you to look on the bright side but-"
"It would be out of character?" Harry ventured.
"No, I just can't think of a bright side," Snape finished.
"Cheery. Lovely bedside manner. Should have been a midwife, you. And anyway, I can think of some good things. I can hover about, use my super ninja stealth skills to sneak up on people. And I can park in handicap spots. That alone more than makes up for it, don't you think?"
"We can work on a cure," Snape offered lamely. Now that's out of character.
"We?"
"Understand that your apprenticeship will begin immediately. If you think I'll leave you to your own devices for the month of December, you're deluding yourself. Who knows what state Hogwarts' ceilings would be in? Or your liver, for that matter, with your penchant for getting drunk with your friends."
"Your concern is touching. You know, this is the most light-hearted conversation we've ever had. That's saying something, isn't it?" Harry asked.
"It's only light hearted because you're in shock. We'll speak again when you've accepted all that's happened," Snape answered.
"Well, you better go now. I'm going to get my fill of scotch before you suck the fun out of my life."
"I do plan to give you half day on Christmas."
"Bastard."