Chapter Seventeen

… We are not peers,
So to be lovers;

When Harry woke, he realised that he was in the hospital wing. He had spent so much time in it over the years that he could recognise it after only the barest of looks around. The smell alone was enough, actually, especially when accompanied by the faint sounds of Madam Pomfrey puttering in her office with bottles and other equipment.

Registering that there was someone in the chair beside the bed, he turned his head cautiously. He half-expected to see Severus there, although he would really have expected the sense of 'presence' to be stronger if it was him. Instead, he found the Headmaster watching him intently. Harry told himself firmly that he wasn't really disappointed, or hurt, that Severus hadn't wanted to stay with him despite Harry having done it for him.

"Ah, Harry. Good to see you awake," the old wizard said in a tightly controlled, obviously relieved tone.

"Mm," said Harry faintly. He didn't quite feel up to speaking yet, especially if he had to make full, coherent sentences. Just the small movement he'd needed to make to look over at Dumbledore had made him aware of a positively titanic headache. The Headmaster's voice, though quiet, had only made it worse. Harry tried to make his breathing as shallow as possible – his chest hurt, too. In fact, he ached all over.

"I suppose you'll want to know what happened?" Dumbledore asked, lowering his voice even more as he seemed to realise Harry's discomfort. It helped a little, but Harry could still hear the other sounds – the crackle of the fire, the clanking of the matron's equipment – and they all seemed far louder than they should really have been.

"Er, yes," he replied, as quietly as he could manage, trying to move his head as little as he could.

"Poppy will be along shortly to give you a Pain-killing Potion for that," said Dumbledore, reading the tension on Harry's face correctly. After another close look at him, as if judging if he was well enough to hear the explanation, he continued. "As for the events of yesterday…"

Harry was for once glad the Headmaster had read his mind. But… "Yesterday?" he asked, sitting up slightly and forgetting to moderate his tone in his sheer surprise. He'd been unconscious for more than a day? The light flooding in through the windows showed that it was late afternoon, almost evening actually, considering the season. He had automatically assumed that it was merely later on Saturday.

Whimpering slightly at the effect of his unwary exclamation, Harry firmly resolved to speak quietly for the rest of the day, no matter what other surprises were in store. He forced himself to relax back into the soft grasp of the pillow, which cradled his aching head, easing the pain slightly.

Dumbledore nodded in response, the gold threads on his hat glinting as they caught the fading afternoon light. "You collapsed after you cast the curse on Thane. I requested assistance from the Ministry to take the captured Death Eaters into custody, while Severus brought you back here so that Poppy could take a look at you. However, she couldn't find anything really wrong with you that would explain your collapse. I must confess that I had suspected that would be the case." His eyes were fixed intently on Harry, and they bore no hint of their usual levity to disguise the close scrutiny.

"What did…" It took far too much effort to get out just those two words. Harry hoped the Headmaster would once more understand what he was trying to ask so that he wouldn't have to exhaust himself trying to complete the sentence. He wasn't sure if the answers he'd get would be worth it. Exhaustion felt awfully close right now, and he'd woken up barely five minutes ago. He wondered what on earth he'd managed to do to himself.

"Rest assured, Harry, I have no intention of telling the Ministry of exactly how Thane met his end. They may suspect, but they won't ask, and I certainly won't offer them that information. We may be grateful that the Death Eaters had the clearing so well warded. Nothing that went on there was detectable beyond its confines." Well, that wasn't quite what he'd wanted to find out, but it was a huge relief to know that he wasn't going to Azkaban for what he'd done the day before.

However, Dumbledore's statement brought back to him exactly what it was he had done. Harry thought he should have felt much more horrified and guilty by the realisation of his actions, of what they meant. He had killed someone, after all, and he didn't feel nearly as bad as he knew he ought to.

Maybe it was because the man had so clearly deserved it. He'd deserved it for what he'd done to Severus, if for no other reason. And there were no doubt many other reasons that Harry knew nothing of, although he could all too easily imagine them.

Or maybe it was because of what he'd wanted to do to Harry. He really hadn't liked the implications of what Thane had said before Severus and the Headmaster arrived. Either way, he wasn't sorry that Thane was dead, and he wasn't terribly sorry that he'd been the one to end his life. That he had ended a life… while it wasn't comfortable at all, to say the least, he'd grown very accomplished lately at avoiding things he didn't want to think about.

He really wasn't looking forward to what Severus would say, though.

"I suspect that you had very good reasons for your actions. He was the one responsible for Severus' injuries that night, wasn't he?" continued Dumbledore, outwardly seeming unaware of Harry's wandering thoughts.

Harry didn't have to ask what night. He wasn't even particularly unsettled that the Headmaster had followed his thoughts yet again, even to such an extent. "Um, yes," he answered. "But what did I…"

"Of course. The reason for your collapse," Dumbledore interrupted his hesitant, irrationally tiring sentence. "Your mother's sacrifice protects you from the Killing Curse. The protection is a part of you, and is of course symbolised by your scar. You were aware of all of this already, I know.

"It is not merely a physical protection, however, but a mental one too, ingrained in your magic as well as your body. Thus, when you cast that particular spell, your magic in essence revolted against it. A sort of allergic reaction, if you will, and its severity caused your collapse." He hesitated a moment, then said in an almost apologetic tone, "I should, perhaps, have told you of this before, but I had not thought you would need to use it so soon."

That implied he'd thought Harry would need to use it at some point, but Harry simply didn't have the energy needed to pursue that particular thought just then. He did, however, make a mental note to find out more later on, when he was feeling a bit more human. And when his head didn't feel like it was about to implode.

"I'll leave you to rest now," said Dumbledore, as if on cue. He rose as he saw Madam Pomfrey approaching. "You'll stay here overnight, of course, but I think you should be fit for classes tomorrow."

Harry didn't argue. He felt horrid, and the thought of moving made him shudder. "Ron, Hermione? Severus?" he asked instead. He'd almost forgotten to ask about them, what with the realisation of what he'd done, and the revelation Dumbledore had offered.

"They're all perfectly fine. The Death Eaters were only interested in you, and wanted to remain as unobtrusive as possible. I will of course inform your friends that you have regained consciousness, and are allowed visitors. No doubt they will call on you in the evening. Now, let Poppy give you the Potion, then get some rest." Harry was relieved to notice that the twinkle was firmly back in the Headmaster's eyes – it was downright unnerving to see the old wizard so serious - but the command was unmistakable.

The effort required for the short conversation had almost completely exhausted him, and he was happy to comply with the Headmaster's order. Bare moments after Madam Pomfrey administered the Pain-killing Potion and finally freed him of the pain, he snuggled under the heavy, comforting covers, and went straight to sleep.

***

Severus arrived a few hours later, to find Harry still sleeping. He sat there for quite some time, his gaze resting on the boy's relaxed face above the covers pulled up to his chin. It seemed strange to Severus that to his searching look Harry's features appeared much the same as they had on Friday; skin slightly tanned from hours on the Quidditch pitch, if faintly drawn with pain, dark, unruly hair and lightning bolt scar half hidden under the slightly too long fringe. The faintest hint of youthful facial hair shadowing his upper lip and chin showed that the boy had not shaved for some time, and no doubt, his eyes would be the same clear green when they opened.

Yet this, now, was the face of a killer, as his own had been for the last twenty years. It startled him when he realised that Harry was younger than he had been when he had first killed. He had done it out of necessity, that first time, to prove the strength of 'his' desire to join the Death Eaters, to show that he truly wanted to be one of them. It had been necessary, too, every time after that, although every one left another scar on his conscience.

And Harry? What were his reasons? That was one question he needed answered, and he suspected Harry did as well. There was no real way to tell without speaking to the boy, though. He had been shut out quite effectively since just before Harry had made his decision in the clearing.

***

When Harry opened his eyes again, he noted that the curtains had been closed, no doubt indicating that it had finally grown dark outside. He also immediately registered the presence of Severus in the visitors' chair. This time he knew exactly who it was. For a few moments, though, he didn't turn his head to greet him. He couldn't quite summon up the nerve to look at him. He couldn't bear the thought that he might see rejection, or revulsion in the man's face.

It was obvious the man knew he was awake, but wasn't about to speak. Harry's headache had abated somewhat, so summoning up the necessary courage, not looking at Severus, he managed a quiet, "Do you hate me?" The question was more mental than vocal, soft and uncertain.

"I could ask the same question." On the surface it was a bare statement of fact, but the undertones held many of the same uncertainties as Harry's own voice had. It appeared that they were about to have one of the conversations they had both been avoiding for so long, and neither of them was at ease with the idea.

"I don't think I could hate you," said Harry, after far too long a pause.

***

Severus aimed for 'impassive' as he replied, "You'd be surprised what magic will allow." He rather thought he'd missed by an unexpectedly large amount.

"I didn't mean because of the bond," the boy said, half into his pillow, before he finally turned to face him. Their eyes met for the first time since just before Harry had killed Thane.

Harry's eyes were just as green as Severus had remembered, but not quite as clear as he'd anticipated. Despite the certainty and lack of self-reproach Harry exhibited, there was at least a part of him that regretted his action, and it showed clearly to someone who knew him as well as Severus now did. Severus didn't know whether to be glad that Harry had not changed so much, or saddened at the knowledge of how much Harry's actions would hurt him, however much he had believed it necessary.

"Why did you do it, Harry?"

"Why did you?"

"Because I had to. Do you intend to answer my question?" He put just a hint of sternness into his voice, enough to let the boy know that he would not be happy with continued evasion.

"Because…" //Because he would have hurt me. Because he would have hurt everyone else he touched. But mostly, I think, because he hurt you, and he didn't deserve to live.//

Well. That was unexpected, although he supposed it shouldn't really have been. It should have been, if not quite touching, at least flattering, that Harry had been willing to kill, had killed, for what amounted to his honour. And yet Severus found himself strangely chilled by the almost-indifferent tone of the admission, and especially by the last five words.

"Harry…" He had no idea what he was about to say, only that he had to say something, something that would make the boy realise again just what he'd done that day. Already he seemed to have cast aside the momentary regret of what he'd done.

"I know, Severus. I killed someone. I thought about it, I made the decision, and I did it. But he deserved to die," he repeated, "and I'm willing to live with it. With my choice. I know… that you've done similar things…"

"Not quite," Severus said firmly. He had done it because it was the only choice he could live with. Harry… Harry had discarded his other choices, knowing that he had them.

"Close enough," Harry replied with a little shrug. "And I'm even willing to live with that. The question is, are you?"

No, that wasn't the question at all, but it was a good enough one for the moment. Good enough that he couldn't answer it right away, and that meant he couldn't keep asking the questions he wanted to ask.

"I should go," he said instead. "I told your friends that they could see you once I'd finished and they're doubtless waiting outside impatiently."

"Okay. See you in class?" Harry asked uncertainly, more than a little unsure of his welcome.

"Yes." Severus didn't allow even the faintest hint of the slightly teasing response he would have given almost automatically. Would have given, if Thane had still been alive.