* * * And Caused My Poor Heart to Ache * * *
It was his father's fault. His father had had a heart attack at the ridiculously young age of seventy. Snape had forgotten that fact, as he had diligently forgotten everything he possibly could about the miserable bastard. The fact that he himself was no more than 45 was intensely irritating. Pomfrey theorized that the sheer number of times he had undergone the Cruciatus and various other damaging curses had put a strain on his heart. The Endurance Potion had been the final insult, apparently.
No, the final insult was that he had to lie here and endure Potter's guilty gratitude. Every time he awoke, it was to find those green eyes staring at him with disturbing intensity. Sometime around mid-day on Christmas day, he had snapped. "Why do you keep staring at me, Potter?"
"I'm trying to figure you out. You've saved my life again and again. You don't even like me. So I started to wonder why you even bothered. And I just realized that I know almost nothing about you."
Snape let his lip curl. "You know enough, Potter. I was a Death Eater. I hated your father. I made your life and that of your friends pure misery every chance I could."
Harry Potter smiled. The little sod sat there and actually had the nerve to grin at him. "Not a very impressive resume, is it?" His smile faded. "But I've grown up some, Severus. That mask isn't the real you, any more than the Death Eater mask you used to wear was."
Snape blinked. There seemed to be nothing safe for him to grasp in Potter's words. Nothing, except... "Since when are you entitled to use my given name?"
"Since you poured poison down my throat, then keeled over with a heart attack. First names seem to be in order."
Snape's raised eyebrow telegraphed his disagreement. "Spare me your overtures, Potter. I don't need your understanding or your friendship."
Potter looked mildly rebuffed, but then his chin firmed and Snape sighed internally. "You nearly died saving me. I owe you."
Stubborn brat. "Fine. You're welcome. Try not to get killed any more. Being your lifeguard is rather wearing and I'm not the man I used to be."
"No, you're not." The soft words were his only answer as Potter slid down in bed and closed his eyes. He snuggled into the blankets and seemed to be asleep in moments. Irritating prat, Snape thought, then fell asleep himself.
It was his father's fault. His father had had a heart attack at the ridiculously young age of seventy. Snape had forgotten that fact, as he had diligently forgotten everything he possibly could about the miserable bastard. The fact that he himself was no more than 45 was intensely irritating. Pomfrey theorized that the sheer number of times he had undergone the Cruciatus and various other damaging curses had put a strain on his heart. The Endurance Potion had been the final insult, apparently.
No, the final insult was that he had to lie here and endure Potter's guilty gratitude. Every time he awoke, it was to find those green eyes staring at him with disturbing intensity. Sometime around mid-day on Christmas day, he had snapped. "Why do you keep staring at me, Potter?"
"I'm trying to figure you out. You've saved my life again and again. You don't even like me. So I started to wonder why you even bothered. And I just realized that I know almost nothing about you."
Snape let his lip curl. "You know enough, Potter. I was a Death Eater. I hated your father. I made your life and that of your friends pure misery every chance I could."
Harry Potter smiled. The little sod sat there and actually had the nerve to grin at him. "Not a very impressive resume, is it?" His smile faded. "But I've grown up some, Severus. That mask isn't the real you, any more than the Death Eater mask you used to wear was."
Snape blinked. There seemed to be nothing safe for him to grasp in Potter's words. Nothing, except... "Since when are you entitled to use my given name?"
"Since you poured poison down my throat, then keeled over with a heart attack. First names seem to be in order."
Snape's raised eyebrow telegraphed his disagreement. "Spare me your overtures, Potter. I don't need your understanding or your friendship."
Potter looked mildly rebuffed, but then his chin firmed and Snape sighed internally. "You nearly died saving me. I owe you."
Stubborn brat. "Fine. You're welcome. Try not to get killed any more. Being your lifeguard is rather wearing and I'm not the man I used to be."
"No, you're not." The soft words were his only answer as Potter slid down in bed and closed his eyes. He snuggled into the blankets and seemed to be asleep in moments. Irritating prat, Snape thought, then fell asleep himself.