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: Sorry for the wait. Finals are mean little buggers that should be banned from all schools. Grr. Remember that this is my pet project so I apologize for the awful updating pattern. Edited for britpicking and 'obsidian'. Thanks Whitehound and Jenon. As always I appreciate the help.

Author: Spirit

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For Tyleet27

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The Cinderman's Kiss

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CHAPTER 9

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Harry took refuge in the Potions room when his thoughts and memories became too much to endure. He looked at his situation from all different angles and frankly his brain was beginning to hurt from muddling over everything. So he did what he never thought he ever would, and gave over to the calming effect that potion brewing was all about. He chopped, ground, stirred and stirred and when the cauldron began to emit an indigo vapor he was actually tempted to start the whole process again. It would have provided him more time to think. But he didn't. Instead he slowly decanted the creamy white liquid into a glass flask.

He sat in silence, searching his mind for the part of him that was Severus Snape's consciousness.

He could tell that Snape was awake. He couldn't hear thoughts or emotions but there was an openness that was not there when Snape slept and especially if he was dreaming. So that meant that the professor had a hard time giving over to unconsciousness too. Harry wondered if the professor's thoughts were occupied in the way that his were.

Harry covered his eyes with his hands and groaned as the images of earlier emerged for yet another time.

He couldn't just sit there reliving the colors of Snape's eyes or the sensation of having hands caress his body. He had done that all night, and while he could not exactly call the night a waste having finished the potions necessary to complete Snape's healing, it had only otherwise helped to drive him half mad with arousal and confusion. One more hour of being alone with his thoughts and memory was surely going to make him mad. Harry neatly arranged the flask on the table amidsts the other four potions. He shuffled them around, traced the cold glass of their container and lined them up in decending order according to size. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly again. It was better to just get it over with, he realized, so he rose from the bench and left the Potions room in favor of giving Snape a visit.

"You need to sleep."

There was no response to that. Harry sighed uncertainly but still he entered the room and made his way over to the bed. He could see the way that Snape adamantly kept his eyes locked upon the ceiling instead of acknowledging his presence. Harry sighed softly as he sat in the bedside chair.

"Well since you're awake, would you like to sit up?" he asked.

When Snape did not answer, Harry sighed again but he went over to the bed and leaned forward. Snape wrapped his good arm around Harry's neck and the two of them maneuvered Harry easily into the position that by now they had a lot of practice in. Harry wrapped his arm from one thin shoulder to the next, giving Snape a chin rest. He wrapped his other arm around Snape's waist and gently, slowly leaned back so that Snape was reclined in his embrace. Then Harry tilted his forhead at the crux of Snape's neck and shoulder. He closed his eyes and sighed again but did not say anything.

They sat like that in silence for a while as Harry soaked up all the warmth that he could from Snape's body. He willed himself not to kiss the wrinkled skin or to consciously take deep, deep breaths that would surround him with Snape's scent. Instead he revelled silently in the confusing mass of feelings that Snape had awoken in him.

'I would prefer if you refrained from feeling guilty, Potter.'

Harry raised his head. "What?"

The quiet words continued. 'I realize that you might believe that my actions today was solely in gratitude for all that you are aspiring to do for me, and while I can understand your hesitatation in allowing me to touch you in that manner again, I'd prefer if you not blame yourself about the way I gave in to your advances. I am completely in charge of my mental faculties and can assure you that my actions are of my own accord. I...liked watching you respond to me.'

"Wha-" Harry began again, but the words began to unravel from Snape-speak to more understandable words. "I...I don't feel guilty. If I did, it would be because you are my patient and I should be able to act more professional. But," he wondered how candid he should be, "I want you. Selfishly."

'Your friends would protest.'

Harry laughed softly. "My friends do protest, but they also understand I think." He paused, resting his chin on a thin shoulder so that he could whisper the words into Snape ear. "I just wish that-" A pause again, then, "Don't make me use you. I don't want to use you, and I know that you think that it's okay to respond the way I want, but I want you to like...me, not...endure me."

'I...will endeavour to respect your wish and...I apologize if I offended you -'

"You didn't offend me," Harry interrupted gently. "I just don't want you to give in. The next time we touch like that I want you to like it too."

Snape was silent. Harry desperately wanted to know what he was thinking, but he didn't want to spoil the fact that they were finally having some sort of conversation pertaining to the attraction building between them.

'I did want it.' The words were almost hesitant. 'More than ever before. That...surprised me. I liked knowing that I could make you feel that way. It's not something I have much experience in and it was more...pleasant...than I thought.'

"Just know that it's okay to say no to me," Harry said very softly.

'I'll remember that,' Snape responded. 'If you can remember that just because my body doesn't physically respond to you does not mean that I am as immuned to your touch as I am to others.'

Harry had to bite back a smile at the way that those nonchalantly spoken words affected him. To distract himself he caught a tuft of Snape's hair between the forefinger and thumb of the hand that was draped across Snape's shoulder. The lock was not greasy like the way it had been at Hogwarts but it wasn't soft either. It was clean because Harry made sure of that every day, but it was a little coarse. It felt nice to touch, especially since Harry knew that any of his old classmates would pay galleons just for the bragging rights to say that they had touched Snape's hair and lived.

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked, still with a slight smile on his face as he simultaneously released the strand and raised his head. "I'm getting tired of the blank white wall. It gets irritating very quickly."

'When were you planning on returning to university?'

That caught Harry off-guard. "I don't know. Why?"

'Daryll tells me that you are studying Psychology at a Muggle university but you've rarely left this house.' The tone was accusing. 'Have you invented a new means by which to learn?"

Harry bristled. "Are you complaining or just tired of me? I know what I'm doing."

'Don't.' The word was rigid with something that was more than just anger, even though it was softly thought into existence. 'Don't sacrifice your future for me. I am not worth it. I've lived my life. You fought hard for yours. I don't want to be the cause of missed opportunities for you.'

"Planning to die soon?" Harry's arms tightened unconsciously. "I hate it when you act like you're nothing more than garbage and I had better treat you that way. Right now, I'm a Healer and a wizard. I can be a Psychologist and a muggle some other time. Uni isn't going to shrivel up just because I'm taking a term off."

'Well you were never any good at school Potter. I assumed that you needed all the terms that you could get.'

Harry rolled his eyes, sighed, and tilted his head back far enough that he could examine the ceiling. He muttered something softly to himself, high enough to be heard but far too low to be discerned.

'Was I supposed to decipher that?'

Harry chuckled softly. "I said that you run hot and cold so often that I never know what the hell to think when I'm talking to you. I called you an arse, Professor and I'm not apologizing so don't ask it. And I realized that I'd rather sit here like this any day than to go back to what we had in our student-teacher relationship."

'Are you always so candid?' Snape asked, affronted.

Harry laughed loudly, rolling his eyes to himself again. "Only recently. Only at night. Only with you."

Snape was silent, but beyond the general boundaries of the spell, Harry thought he could sense the hesitation that raged as Snape's private thought, just before words began to float into his mind again. He was right, they held a sense of reluctance as they were conveyed.

'I keep waiting for you to remember who you are and who I am.' A pause then. 'And I wonder what you will do when your patience runs out and your rose-tinted glassed come off.'

"I haven't worn glasses of any shade since I was seventeen," Harry countered, but he knew that Snape was serious, so he sighed again. "I won't run if that's what you're wondering."

'Perhaps you should.'

Harry swore softly, but refused to formulate a proper response to that.

"Go to sleep Snape," he repeated petulantly instead. "Surely a bit of sleep will cure your delusions."

They stayed in their position until Harry felt Snape's mind give way to sleep. Then, Harry could only ground his teeth against the sharp edges that Snape's dreams always created in his head He wished that he knew how to brew Dreamless Sleep Potion, but his potions education had certain gaps in it and many of those gaps contained the potions he was taught at Hogwarts. A reflection of his lack of attention in his teenage years obviously, since he had no trouble muddling his way through the brewing process these days.

Untangling himself gently from behind the warmth of Snape's body, Harry whispered a calming charm that he learned the year before in Mauritius, before he slipped out of the room. He grabbed the cordless phone on his way over to the fireplace in his living room and curled upon the couch, watching the way the fire glowed.

He checked the time, and subtracted six hours from it, even as his fingers dialled his intended number.

"Harry, he had better be dying," Daryll's voice threatened by way of greeting.

Harry smiled wryly. "He's not."

Something in his voice must have carried over to his response because Daryll immediately asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Harry paused. "I finished the potions. I can heal his muscles and in a few days I can try healing the burns again."

Daryll was silent for a moment then, "I see. So you're deliberating whether or not to inform your panel?"

"I'm thinking that the only panel that should be here, that deserves to be here, are you and Dobby," Harry said softly. "So I was wondering if you were sleeping."

Daryll chuckled sofly. "Maybe."

"Daryll." Harry's voice was soft but patient. "Help me."

Daryll laughed again. "I suppose I could forgo sleep in favor of being at your beck and call again. It's not like I'm a doctor or anything and need all the hours of sleep that I can get."

"Not at all," Harry taunted. "Charlene isn't over there is she?"

"Now you ask?" Daryll growled. "Open the floo."

The fire flared green before Harry stepped into it, clutching a tin of floo powder as he did. He was tempted to close his eyes, but common sense, as always, dictated that he stay alert in order to jump out at the right time. When he did, he almost landed on his face at Daryll's feet.

"No need to bow, Potter. I'm hardly powerful enough."

Harry glowered at him as he rose and began to brush soot and dust off his clothes. He was so preoccupied that he barely spared a glance at the familiar sight of Daryll's room. Instead he opened the floo canister, threw a handful of powder in and shoved his laughing friend into the green flames.

By the time Harry made it back on his end of the connection, he almost collided with an enthusiastic Dobby.

"Harry Potter wants Dobby here?"

Harry hadn't actually called for the house-elf but as usual Dobby seemed to know exactly when he was needed. All Harry had to do was pry his leg away from the bone crushing hug that Dobby bestowed upon it and smile his response down at the huge eyes.

"Will you help me and Daryll make the professor better tonight? Just the three of us?"

Dobby's eyes went wide with surprise then they immediately began to swim with tears.

"Such an honor that Harry Potter has given to Dobby. Such an honor to be an equal to such a great wizard. Harry Potter is too kind. Ever too kind," he whispered to himself, obviously very stunned by the aformentioned honor.

Harry shrugged. "It's only right, Dobby,"

"Of course I will help Harry Potter's Professor Snape." Dobby nodded enthusiastially with a huge grin spreading across his face. "Of course Dobby will help."

o

The three of them stood by Snape's bed in silence.

As if without a thought Dobby held the five flasks levitated around them and even in the candlelight the bottles glistened from the potency of the potions within. He gazed up at Harry, waiting for a command that he could follow. Harry, however, was preoccupied.

Green eyes studied the face that he was so acquainted with. Harry knew that he could probably trace the exact line that marked the change from smooth flesh to burned skin. He traced that line with his eyes now, concentrating on the images that he held in his mind of Professor Severus Snape. No one could scowl like Snape, with dark eyes burning. The colors of Snape's eyes were hidden now of course, since the calming charm was still working. The charms would be strengthened tonight as Harry worked, since he wasn't entirely certain that the potions didn't sting. It would be easier to concentrate on the task if he wasn't interrupted by screams of pain.

"Daryll." Harry didn't turn his attention away from the sleeping wizard on the bed, but from the corners of his eye he saw Daryll turn to look at him. "Grey. Blue. Grey. White. Grey. Got it?"

"Got it."

Harry looked down at his house-elf next. "Dobby, make sure Snape stays still. Hold him down if you have to but don't use any magic. If the healing chant is interrupted, we'll have to start all over again. Make sure that Daryll applies the potions correctly, alright?"

Dobby nodded enthusiastically.

Daryll reached out to manually remove Snape's clothes, turning him gently so as not to wake him. With Harry's help, he lifted Snape off the bed next, while Dobby scrambled to change the sheets to cotton white. The headboard was covered in white also, while Harry arranged Snape into the appropriate manner upon the bed. By the time he was satisfied, Dobby had covered the bedside chair and the two bedside tables also, just as Daryll snapped on a pair of white surgical gloves.

While Harry was performing the healing, nothing contaminated could come in contact with Snape's skin.

"Is everything ready?" Harry looked around at the sea of white and his two friends.

Daryll grinned. "Let's hope that when he wakes up he likes his surprise."

Instead of responding, Harry beckoned for him to follow and they went even closer to the bed, without actually making contact with the flowing sheets that were nearly brushing the floor.

"Start at the tip of his toes and work your way up," Harry instructed softly. "Apply the blue and white potions only to the affected areas. For the grey potion, apply it everywhere." He paused to give Daryll and meaningful, pointed look. "Everywhere, Daryll. His body has to be kept in homeostasis. If you miss anywhere, it will be like cutting off that part of his body."

Daryll grinned again as he moved his eyes to Snape's crotch and then back to Harry's face. "Is there anywhere in particular that you'd rather he not lose?"

Harry gave him a disgusted look which only served to make Daryll laugh.

"Alright. Let's begin then."

Harry took a deep, deep breath. His eyes fell close as he gathered his healing magic. It was a magical trait that was still so new and amazing to him. He felt it light, like a spark, in his stomach. He felt the heat of it as the fire caught and blazed through his body and he knew that soon he would be a glowing figure of pure white light. He fought to contain his magic into a blazing ball of fire, as he had been taught. Rarely could he unleash the raw force of his magic, even if it was for healing. He had done it one, just once before and it had been to kill. If he was honest, he would admit that he didn't actually hate the way it felt to be so powerful; to feel the curl of untamed energy surge through his body. He never told anyone about the way he secretly liked the sensation as it spread. With healing, this was the closest he could come to once again feeling that dark whisper of glee that he had felt that one time...that one time, when he had killed Voldemort.

But this was for Severus.

Harry fought to keep that in mind as he opened his eyes. Then, softly, slowly he began the healing chant.

o

The chant had a natural flow to it, like a river twisting and curling its way towards a larger, stronger resting place. The words were a combination of Latin and Gaelic words. It was elemental magic, which meant that from it came the runes of the Scandanavians and the fortune telling magic of the Gypsies. Earth. Fire. Wind. Water. All healing magic was rooted in the strength and weaknesses of the universe. Each chant, the more powerful they were, was an exchange or a borrowing. Something in Harry always recognized this. It was a gift to be as he was where the elements embraced him and magic was almost instinctive. He didn't have to think sometimes, he would just do it before he even knew that he was able to.

The words flowed from his mouth now, as if his lips had always curved around the unfamiliar syllables.

As if he was standing outside of his own body, Harry watched as a cloud of thin white mist swirled around the room. He heard his voice, steadily saying the words but when he smiled at the calming aspects of the chant, his voice didn't waver or pause. It was strange but not uncomfortable to find that this conscious part of himself was only existing in an abstract form.

He watched as Daryll applied the first coat of the grey potion, which would keep Snape's body stable. And suddenly he could hear and feel all of Snape's vital information.

Pulse...steady.

Blood-pressure...falling slightly but not enough for concern.

Respiration...low but stable.

Temperature...normal.

With just a thought, Harry slowed his chanting to wait until Daryll had completed that first application. He watched as Dobby wrung his fingers in anticipation and he almost laughed at the way the little house-elf was almost vibrating with excitement. When Daryll turned to Dobby and spoke, it didn't seem all that weird that Harry couldn't understand their words. It was in a language that Harry didn't think that he had ever heard before. He concentrated very hard and slowly the language came to him.

English. How odd.

Daryll was asking Dobby to pass the blue potion to him, quickly.

Dobby wasn't moving all that quickly actually. He seemed to be moving slower than was necessary. It was almost as if he was alternating between slow motion and normal speed. That startled Harry a bit. So, with another thought he turned a small part of his attention to the house-elf.

Immediately there were two sets of heart-beats. One far softer, but descernably faster than the other. There were two sets of steady respiration and the blood-pressure information was tangling with each other.

Harry turned back to Snape quickly and sighed in relief when there was only the one set of enhanced readings flooding his system again.

Daryll began to apply the blue potion and Harry increased the chanting again. This time he felt himself slip bast the barriers of Snape's flesh. He cringed at how wrong it felt to slide through the burned portions, that in most areas had damage that went beyond just the two layers of cells that made up the skin. He had to actually fight the wave of need that surged through him in the most distracting manner, to fix the wrong. Later, he had to promise, and that seemed to appease the chant.

He felt the mass of muscles surround him, and beneath his fingertips he could feel the tendons and ligaments.

Harry raised his hand and saw his arms extend above Snape's body. But, his attention was stolen away again by the chant. It knew that this was what the potion was telling it to help and Harry had no choice but to give in to the desire to do just that. So, he reached out to stroke his fingers lightly over the twisted bundles of muscle fibres that made up a muscle. The fascicles twitched beneath his touch. Then, slowly, as if Harry himself was untangling and prying each little fibre into the correct formation, the muscles began to be molded into the correct structure.

He worked quickly, staying almost at the end of Daryll's fingers each time, going just barely slower than the potion was being applied. It seemed very important to not let Daryll get too far ahead in their silent race.

When he finished just a few seconds after Daryll finished, Harry laughed out silently, in exhileration.

Dobby was quicker this time in passing the second vial of grey potion. Daryll was quicker too as he meticulously applied it. He knew the contours of the body that he was working with now and the years of working with broken bodies gave him a professional competence that showed in the way that his fingers danced quickly, not missing anywhere, not even doubting that he had gotten the application right.

As if it was surfacing again from a deep pool of water, the sensation of Snape's vital information flooded Harry's consciousness loudly, once again.

Respiration...still stable.

Temperature...normal.

Blood pressure...stable.

Pulse...increasing.

Was he waking? Harry didn't want to risk it so he quickly incorporated the calming effect within the chant again and watched as the mist lulled Snape. Pulse decreased. Respiration decreased slightly. Harry slowed the chant again as Daryll finished up. Dobby had the white potion already levitated and on it's way over. Daryll caught it mid-flight.

The white potion stung, just as Harry thought it would.

He felt, actually felt, Snape's body go rigid. But, the chant was holding Snape captive beneath a wave of calm that no pain could break through. Still Harry saw Dobby indicate the change to Daryll. Harry didn't try to decipher their strange words this time. He impatiently willed Daryll to see that nothing was wrong and it almost seemed to work as Daryll said something in their strange language to the house-elf. Dobby nodded enthusiastically but only backed away as Daryll crossed his path and then walked around Harry. Harry didn't see what they did, but Snape seemed to relax slightly.

Then Daryll returned to applying the potion and Harry was pulled back into the warmth of Snape's body.

He didn't have to do anything this time except watch as the potion seeped in and covered the muscles. He reached out to touch, as the potion was absorbed. Then he smiled happily at the absolutely normal way that the muscles felt. Warm and alive. Healed. Harry felt the healing magic inside of him lose most of its urgency. He traced each muscle anyway just to make sure that they were all healing nicely. They felt weak and tired. Harry didn't like that, but he knew that it wasn't potions or magic that would make them stronger. It was excercise and the right nutrients.

As soon as Daryll was finish, Harry began to retreat.

He had just made it back out when, before it physically happened, he felt his breath hitch. The chant stumbled from his lips. And Daryll, swung around to look at him in shock. It was okay for Snape though because the healing had already been completed. But for Harry, a strange saporific wave seemed to wash over him. It was sapping away all his energy. It was pulling him away... Back into the darkness... Into the confines of Snape's body... Into the strange white mist around them... Into many tiny pieces... It occured to Harry then, that perhaps he shouldn't have performed such an extensive healing when he had stayed awake for nearly twenty-four hours.

He gasped aloud at the uncomfortable sensation of splitting apart, and was surprised when he heard the gasp echo into the room. He hadn't even realized that he had completed the chant.

"Harry!"

Harry heard his name but he didn't turn to his friend. Instead his eyes locked with the gaze of the man he had been so determined to heal.

One obsidian colored eye and the other a light topaz color was the only indication that Snape had awoken. Perhaps by the shout. Harry wasn't to know. The fog around him darkened and he felt as if he was floating. Like a cloud, each appendage felt like it was drifting, separating, from his body. It didn't hurt. Perhaps it was the shock that he knew his body was falling into, but at least he realized that if he really was breaking, then he should be bleeding. Since he wasn't, then it couldn't be so bad.

"Better...now." His voice sounded far away.

Then he watched in absolute fascination as the amber eye began to darken slowly. To caramel. Brown. Light brown. Coffee brown. And he smiled tiredly when the shade became dark. Black. Obsidian. Snape blinked to focus and it wasn't the usual painfully slow blink but a natural, easy, shuttering that hid the two dark eyes from view only long enough for Harry to miss the sight of them for a split second.

"Severus do you mind?"

Daryll didn't seem to wait for a response of any kind. Harry felt the strong arms pick him up like a sack of potatoes and after a quick stride over to the other side of the bed, he was haphazardly deposited on the bed. Harry made a mental note to hit Daryll later for the lack of care. But just as the words of protest formed on his lips, Snape's left hand rose to hover over his face. When the warmth of fingertips lightly traced the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, Harry couldn't help himself. All thoughts flew out of his head and he inched closer to the thing that was pulling him back together and making him whole again.

'Sleep...Harry.'

Harry caught the hand that was stroking his cheek almost reverently. He pressed the fingers to his lips without thought and released the hand only long enough to make sure that he was within its embrace. He rested his head on Snape's chest and heard the heatbeat that he had been listening to for the past hour. It was softer than the pulse rate reading that the grey potion had been feeding him, but it was enough.

He only barely heard Daryll's half amused, half surprised chuckle.

"Right. so I guess I'll come and check on the two of you later. Dobby will floo me out. Bye Harry." Daryll's voice was soft and soothing. "Severus, make sure that he sleeps. I can just bet that he almost collapse just now, because he's been worried about you. Come on Dobby."

The room was silent, then Harry felt a twinge of something complex, whisper through his mind and he recognized it as the part of Snape that he loved to miss.

'Thank you...for being a stubborn, Gryffindor and the man so many had a right to believe in.'

Harry tiredly nuzzled the naked chest beneath his face, wondering how there was no hint of the potions that the skin had been bathed in. It was crinkled and soft and smelled refreshingly of Snape. He wanted to respond and say that he had just been doing his job, but some part of him knew that it was much, much more complicated than that, so he held his tongue and decided to tell Snape that he was welcomed, some other time when his brain and his mouth became reacquainted again.

Sleep came, naturally to Harry thereafter, and it lulled his exhaustion.

oXo