Disclaimer: The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

Pairing: Severus/Harry.

Rating: R

Summary: For as long as he lived Harry was never going to forget the sight of those black eyes in pain. The light hit Snape from the side and then it seemed to cover him as he turned in it to face the boy he had protected so many times before. And it looked like he was melting...

Author's note: Be warned...this is one of my pet projects so update may be erratic.

Author:Spirit

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The Cinderman's Kiss

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CHAPTER 2

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Snape was still not up when Harry brought him breakfast the next morning.

Harry checked his pulse to make sure that he was still alive, and found a steady heartbeat. Which of course didn't explain the long stretches of unconsciousness that Snape was tending towards. It sent tiny jolts of fear through Harry as he stood wondering what to do. His healing side prodded him to make use of the stillness and soon he gave over to it in favor of just standing there.

Two hours later, Harry's hands were trembling as he stood over the still unconscious form. Sweat ran like a tributary down the side of his face and his eyes blurred in his exhaustion. The words he muttered had descended into the realm of incoherent rambling. He swayed on his feet but refused to stop.

And again, as soon as he began to focus his healing magic on Snape, the naked form began to violently shake.

Harry stopped, took a deep shaky breath and did a diagnosis scan again.

There was no change. The results were the same as before. Snape's eye and ear were the only parts that the burning was superficial. It was only skin deep, but those burns also mostly rejected the healing. Harry had been so happy when the ear had reconstructed itself and the eye had rejuvinated. The skin had separated to form a clear and distinct eyelid with even long black eyelashes. But that was as good as Harry had gotten. The diagnosis spell assured him that the eye and ear were going to be fine but the skin was still damaged.

The rest of Snape's body had not been so lucky. The burn spell went deep. So much that Harry doubted that even Incendio would have cause so much damage. Snape's throat was a raw and damaged mass. Speech was obviously impossible. As for the rest of the body, muscles were twisted, nerves were only barely functional. The spell had even affected the bones, causing a black scorch-like substance to corrode the white. Harry couldn't believe that Snape was still alive after four years when he couldn't imagine how the man had even managed to move much less other means of survival.

In the light of the day, Harry had also been able to trace the many sores that had broken out on the sunken butt cheeks and his left side. Snape must have crawled on all four limbs for every day of those four years because his knees and palms were bruised and so severely scratched that they were almost unrecognizeable. At least he had been able to heal those wounds, which proved to him that there was nothing wrong with his healing magic. When he started at St. Mungo's he was told that he was a natural at healing magic, but nothing about standing over Snape was pointing to that.

Harry focussed his magic again, concentrated all his post-Voldemort magic into his healing art and tried to blast Snape with all of it.

The room shook. Darkness clouded the air. There was the distinct sound of objects falling and breaking. A bright blue light entombed the pale figure that was lying so still and a wild light illuminated the wizard who stood determined to get his magic to work.

And suddenly his magic broke. Harry collapsed beside Snape on the bed. His palms stung and began to bleed from the magical lacerations that ripped into them. His whole body felt drained and every muscle ached. He wasn't even sure if he would ever again be able to lift his arms. Lying there, breathing heavily as if his lungs had collapsed into something the size of a straw, tears of exhaustion threatened his eyes as guilt and shame overwhelmed him.

"Why...can't I...heal you?" he asked the silent walls and plaster roof a little angrily. "Why can't anything...ever...be easy with you!"

When long cold fingers closed over his arm, Harry startled.

"You're awake!" He swiftly healed his palms and properly caught his breath before turning onto his side so that he could look at his patient. "How are you feeling?"

The fingers retreated as eyelids fluttered. Snape's good hand hovered over the newly repaired eye and slowly he reach out.

Harry caught the hand. "No don't touch it. I'm still very new to the whole reconstructive magic thing. I don't want you to contaminate the magic so don't touch it for at least another half an hour."

The hand that his fingers curled around went rigid at the mention of healing magic, but soon Snape relaxed and his raised arm went limp. Harry released it gently, before groaning very loudly as he raised himself off the bed. He walked around to stand at Snape's other side before leaning over to peer at the newly opened eye.

He drew back quickly, searching Snape's face in his surprise for any discomfort. "Can you see?"

The nod he received was slow. Harry's face clouded with confusion. He reach across to cover the left eye and then raised a finger. Moving it from one side to the next he watched as the right eye followed it perfectly. Up and down seemed to work just as well. And although he got a semi-nasty look when he blew suddenly on it, the eye reacted naturally by tearing up before Snape blinked away the moisture. Which all pointed to the fact that despite Harry's misgiving, the eye was fine.

Harry's face split into a grin and then he chuckled softly. "Well it works, but you're not going to like this Professor. It seems that you've now got yourself a strangely amber colored eye that I think matches really neatly with the other black one."

He got the dirty look again, but no surprise from the other wizard.

"I know you can't speak," Harry said softly after a pause. "I've been studying the healing art for about four years on and off now. I haven't quite mastered it yet, but I'm not too bad at it. I know if you could tell me you'd probably extend your condolence at me actually being good at something other than driving you batty. But anyway, it's not as easy as I thought it would be. Every time I try to heal you your body goes into shock. I just want you to know that this doesn't mean I'm giving up. I'll figure something out Professor. I'll make you better."

The dark eyes seemed to be staring into Harry's soul. He wondered if Snape was still a master Legimens. When the silence became uncomfortable Harry began to fidget, but he kept his mind open to the undetectable prodding. And then the moment ended and Snape seemed to relax. The dark eyes began to drift close.

"No! Professor?" Snape's body went slack.

Harry swore a string of expletives before he once again checked for a pulse. Sighing yet again in relief when he detected a strong one. He spared a second to run his gaze along Snape's diminished form as a plan lighted its way in his head. The burns still hurt Harry to look at but he found that the longer he looked at them was the more objective he could be. And so on conjuring up a thick blade and two flat bottomed flasks, objectively he figured that the best place to nick Snape was on the inner thigh of his right leg. He only hoped that the burn wouldn't prevent him healing the wound afterwards. He hated to have to do it, but he would also need blood from an unaffected area and since ninety percent of Snape's body was affected the one good place was at the inner elbow of the left arm.

He retreated to his study with the bottles of blood and conjured up a magic chemistry lab where he tested the blood with different healing potions and chemical.

One hour later he was looking at vials of the affected area's blood turned every other shade but white. He would have even been happy for a silvery white color like the unaffected area produced under every test. It was hopeless.

Harry snarled loudly and grabbed a handful of the vial before throwing each violently against the wall with a howl of frustration. Then he sank to the cold ground, buried his fingers through his hair, hung his head and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do next.

The answer came to him in the form of his cordless phone.

"Hello?" The voice was far too cheerful on the other end.

"Daryll? I need a favor."

"Harry?" Surprise, then, "What's wrong. You sound sick."

"I'm fine, but I need your help."

"From me? The Muggle?" A fake scoff. "Aren't you the Healer. I never thought the day would come."

"Don't make me beg you arse, just help me."

"Of course I'll help." Gentler now but still not serious. "I don't have to smuggle drugs into England for you though do I, because you know that will take time and maybe a plane and definitely a getaway vehicle..."

"Daryll! Merlin's balls focus would you! I need your professional help."

There was a deep chuckle before a throat was cleared then the voice returned serious but just as kind. "Okay Harry. Dr. Stetingson, physiotherapist, at your service."

The equipment arrived early the next morning just as Daryll promised.

Of course the man had been far too curious to leave well enough alone and had also taken the day off to appease his inquisitive nature. Harry didn't let his surprise show when he opened his front door to see a van parked in his driveway and the good doctor balancing two crutches, an oxygen machine and a walker.

"A little help, eh!"

Harry laughed before silently and wandlessly dropping the protection wards. He only grabbed the pair of crutches -to the obvious disgust of his guest- before he ushered the other man into the house. It took three trips to the rented van and a little bit of magic to get everything into the newly constructed physical training room.

Harry stood at the doorway and looked over everything when they were finished. "Will we really need all this?"

"If you mean to help him the Muggle way then yes you'll need every one of these soon enough." Daryll shrugged.

There were various excercise machines, mats, chairs, tables, standing and sitting equipment, carts, mirrors and screens. There was even a cabinet to the corner of the room that was bare for the moment but Harry felt assured would be filled with potions and salves as soon as he could get Snape to communicate which ones were needed.

"And he'll need a trainer," Harry said thoughtfully, giving his friend an innocent look. "So Daryll how long will you be in England?"

Daryll smirked. "Oh I don't know maybe three more hours and then I'm abandoning your fabulous ass to fly back to Montreal. At which point you'll be left to fend for yourself."

Harry figured that it would be a waste of energy to protest.

"So do you plan on introducing me to him or does this favor of mine just involve flying myself on the first flight out of Canada then buying out half a store in physical therapy equipment here in the UK, all at your whim with nothing to show for it?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come then. You may as well see him."

Snape was still sleeping when they entered the room, but Harry had given up on being too worried. In the thirty four hours since Harry had found him, the wizard had improved enough that he was able to stay awake for at least an hour at a time now.

The Muggle examination ensued as Daryll wanted to see for himself what Harry had gotten himself into. Halfway into the physical, Snape's mismatched eyes opened into an instant scowl, but as soon as Harry introduced his friend he relaxed and allowed the Muggle doctor to prod and poke him.

"Shall we compare notes?" Daryll asked cheerfully once he was finished. Harry drew him a chair from midair before taking a seat beside his patient on the bed. "Severe malnutrition. It's what was causing the unconscious spells, but I expect you figured that out. I'd equate his injuries to that of a quadroplegic if it wasn't for the lack of spinal damage. Not that this is any blessing with the severe muscle damage."

"I can fixed that," Harry said quickly into the pause. He tried to ignore the way Snape was looking at him in disbelief. "Just as soon as I figure out the spell I'll need to use."

Daryll gave him a brilliant smile. "Right then. So as soon as you do that you can start on the physiotherapy. His muscles will be weak so go slowly. In fact, call me when you work out what magic you'll use and I'll tell you what sorts of excercise to work with. Voice training will be a little tricky once his throat heals, I should tell you from now. I'll floo over here as much as I can. I expect mom will be tickled pink to be able to open up a floo for me. She's already bragging to her friends that I know you on such an intimate level."

He turned to look at the silent professor. "I expect you know my mom? She is the only witch in the family, ever. Would have been in your year at Hogwarts maybe. She went to school with Harry's parents you know. Shanelle LaFlamme. She transferred from Durmstrang to Hogwarts in her second year and was in Hufflepuff."

Snape didn't even need to think about it before he nodded to show that he did indeed remember the witch.

Daryll's smile got even brighter. "Good!"

It was Harry's turn to stare at the professor. He seemed in much better health even though he hadn't been able to hold down solid food. Harry had ordered a nutritional potion from Diagon Alley and had been feeding him steadily with it. In the light of morning his black hair looked limp but it was fanned over his face in such a way that it hid the ugly burn scar. Harry figured that a nice long bath was in order. The thick blankets that Harry had wrapped him in the night before were still drawn taut over the still body. Snape hadn't even moved his one good arm throughout the night.

"Well I'm off then." Daryll's voice broke through Harry's thoughts. He rose from his seat and stretched, gasping only slightly when his chair disappeared from behind him.

He said his goodbye to the professor then quietly asked Harry to walk him out. Harry complied with a nod and a soft reassurance to Snape that he would not be long. They walked to the front door in a companionable silence before pausing at the entrance.

"Are you sure he is who you think he is?" Daryll broke the silence quietly. "The last thing you'll want to do is to pick up a random bum off the street and shock him with your magic."

Harry smiled. "It's him Daryll. I ran enough tests on his blood last night to know just about every secret it holds."

"Alright. Well then I'd give him two or three days before you really start his rehabilitation." The physiotherapist made a face. "Unless of course you have a quick fix with some magical means or another."

"Nope." Harry shook his head. His expression saddened. "I've never seen a homeless wizard in my life. Not around the wizarding world and with a wand. Once you've got magical means you'll never be hungry or without shelter. One wave and an incantation does the trick you know. I don't think St. Mungo's would know what to do with him if I tried to pass him onto them. If I'm going to do this then I'm on my own, but that's alright by me."

"Sometimes I'm glad to be a squib. Can't miss what I never had. I don't even want to imagine the hell he must have gone through for however long he lived on the street. Maybe he still has his wand you know. Maybe that's how he survived."

Harry gave him a pointed look. "Did you spot a wand? Because I sure as hell didn't see any. Nobody willingly allows their body to become malnurished and battered like he is if it can be stopped. Like I said one wave of his wand and certain things can be taken care of. It's why Transfiguration is such a good subject."

Daryll smiled. "Well continue to feed him slowly. His body has to get used to real food again. And you might want to double the bath time you allot him, if you get my gist. I imagine there is about ten layer of dirt caked onto him and just a few wash isn't going to get it all off him. Not to mention his hair."

"Now there is where you can't even see a difference," Harry said with a cheeky grin.

Daryll chose to be more mature and ignore the statement.

"Think he's got worms or lice?" Harry had gone all serious again. "I hate that I can regrow bones overnight and heal wounds but something like that I can't just put my hands over him and get rid of them."

"I'd be surprised if he doesn't have cholera and tubercolosis and malaria. Hell, I'm shocked he still has all his limbs. I mean as useless as they might seem to him, frostbites aren't the prettiest things. I can't imagine how he avoided developing gangrene. He's lucky Harry. If he even has worms, or lice and gingivitis, and is covered in sores he's still lucky. There are so many homeless people who die all alone every day. In North America I swear we don't even see them lying on the streets anymore. It's like they're a part of the scenery." Daryll's chocolate brown eyes darkened as he drifted farther into the realm of his mind. "Do you know how many black men I see on the street every day and I think that could have been me. If I had grown up in the wrong neighborhood and the wrong country, if I didn't have good parents. I bet he never thought he would ever be one of the homeless."

Harry's expression hardened as he too became lost in thought. "He will never be like that again. Ever. Damn it, I won't let it happen. His pride got him this far, well my stubborness will make sure that he doesn't give up until he is well again. I won't stop until he has gained the respect he deserves for the things he did."

"You have such a big heart." Daryll reached up to draw his fingers lightly down Harry's cheek. "Why did we break up again?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Doesn't matter you prat. That's all water under the bridge now. You have Charlene and she's none the wiser that you used to dabble in the dark arts of homosexuality."

"I miss you."

"Everybody misses me." Harry gave him a teasing shove. "It must be my fine looks. But you're in love with someone else so none of that now."

"Doesn't mean I can't miss you." He removed his fingers and instead smiled with mischief. "But I see the way you look at your professor."

"If by that you mean a good bit of respect, then of course. He has saved my life so many times that me helping him is like a drop in the bucket. I'll do whatever I can to save him. I've spent four years looking for him everywhere so it's fate that I saw him and I don't intend to lose him to a stupid curse meant for me. Not after what he's done. I'll work myself into the ground if I have to because I'm not stopping until I heal him."

"You like him," Daryll said softly.

Harry turned a light shade of pink, ducking his head in a moment of rare shyness. "I wanted to, I think. Until he killed the Headmaster and then I hated him. It was like a poison. I wanted to kill him. Then he pulled one over on me and saved my life and I spent all this time thinking about him. I can't believe I found him."

"Like I said, he's lucky." Daryll pulled him into an impulsive hug. "I know you Potter and you're fiercely protective of the people you care about. So call me if I can help you with this."

"Of course," Harry responded as he returned the hug. "You better believe that I will Doctor Stetingson."

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