Quondam
Summary: Sometimes happily ever after is only in books
Status: WIP
The form landed on him, flattening him to the chilled ground, breath whooshing out from his lungs. He smelled of herbs, smoke, and blood. Death clung to him like the fog clings to the cliffs. Thick silver hair obscured his vision and he swiped at it to get it away from his mouth and nose.
Harry pushed ineffectually at the form, desperate for breath. He didn't have much strength in his arms; especially his left arm and he lay there underneath the body waiting. He felt a tremor of a heartbeat at his chest and movement of breath against his stomach. A leg twitched and jerked against his legs.
He caught his breath and it fluttered the silver hair that lay quiescent on his cheek. The man smelled familiar and he closed his eyes for a moment to capture the memories. He spent much of his time trying to forget that recalling the memories was difficult. He opened his eyes when the figure shifted. He looked into dark eyes and shifted backward, to get away.
Snape.
He was about to say something when the black eyes rolled back in his head and then his head fell forward, a sharp chin banging against his cheek. Cursing softly he tried to maneuver the body off of his, rocking side to side he finally gained enough momentum to roll the body off of his. Snape slid off of him and landed rather jarringly onto his back, still unconscious.
He rolled onto his side and looked at the man who'd been as much a part of his life as his wand. He'd been there since the beginning of his life as a wizard. Snape had seen him when he was victorious, when he was humiliated, when he failed them all, when he struggled to take back his life and even when he'd hobbled away to his exile. He'd ridiculed him, praised him, hated him, forced him to own up to himself and not put him on a pedestal. Every bad and good thing in his life was somehow connected to this man whom time had not been kind to.
He was gaunt and gray. The sunken cheeks only accentuated his eyes, though he could no longer see, he knew were filled with unspeakable things.
His hand moved toward the face, trembling in his need to connect with this man. A brief touch to the hollow of his cheek, startled at the coolness, he pulled back. He needed to get him inside but the task was daunting. He had no wand, his voice only worked half the time and he barely had the strength to move himself, much less another grown man, even one as thin as Snape.
Getting to his knees he began patting down Snape, trying to find a wand. He was even thinner than he'd originally guessed; he could feel each rib as his hands slid down his sides. His stomach was curved inward, causing his hipbones to protrude sharply. Once finely muscled thighs and calves were now thin and spindly, Harry felt a shimmer of pity then one of determination overtook it. He had no idea why Snape was here but he was certain it was for a good reason.
Reaching the backside of Snape, he felt a small stick-like object in the back pocket of his pants. He slid his hand along the curve of his buttock, fingers catching a small piece of wood. In the light he saw that it was a wand, but only the tip was left with a few stray pieces sticking out of the top. A quick inspection and it looked as though it was hair from an animal, which, he did not know.
Clearing his throat he tried a simple spell, "lumos", it croaked out, barely recognizable but apparently it was enough; the wand tip flared and lit a small perfect circle of light, "nox" and the light went out as quickly as it came. Smiling he clutched it in his hand and stood, "mobilicorpus". Snape's body began rising to waist height, it dipped briefly and resolutely regained height and floated alongside him as he began trudging back toward his home.
The trip to the point and back usually took a little over an hour, it took an hour just to get back home with Snape today. He'd never realized how much energy it took to hold a spell and walk. The fog held no fascination for him as he watched it cover the black cloak beside him, making the man wetter and colder than before.
The last bit to the house was the most difficult; he was cold, wet, and exhausted. He almost dropped Snape several times but mustered enough energy to pull him back up, nearer to the end the body was only a foot from the ground, and he could not bring it any higher.
There were no steps into or out of his house, his legs wouldn't allow it. He was even more thankful now as he moved inside the comforting warmth of his home.
He carefully guided Snape into his room, he'd never had guests in his life so a spare room never made much sense to him, and he regretted that now. Methodically he began removing Snape's clothes while he hovered in the air, throwing the wet clothes out into the hallway. He maneuvered the naked body into the bathroom and began running a warm bath, adding several of his own healing tonics to the water.
Very carefully he lowered him into the water, while supporting his head and upper body with his one good arm. With a tremendous sigh of relief, he released the spell. His entire body vibrated with the effort it took to maintain magic for that period of time. He slid down the side of the bathtub and rested, keeping Snape safely above water. He'd need a bath once this was over. He was drenched with sweat and wet from the fog.
Many minutes later he roused himself to begin bathing Snape. His skin had pinked in the warm water and Harry was happy to see that there were no real injuries on him other than that of starvation. He allowed the heavy body to slide down further into the water so he could wash the stringy and dirty hair that hung limp around his head.
His good arm was sorely fatigued and he hurried through the task, he could always do it again later. Draining the water he left Snape lounged against the back of the bathtub while he fetched a few towels from the cupboard. One he wrapped around his head in a turban and the other he patted and rubbed at all the skin he could see while he was still in the tub. An arm underneath and he rolled him to the side and swiped at the still wet skin along his backside and as far as he could reach.
Mustering his own energy, he clutched the stub of a wand and whimpered the command to lift him in the air. His strength low and waning, only allowed him to get Snape mere inches from the ground as they moved out the door toward the bed. A grit of determination and he put everything he had left into it and brought him high enough to place on the bed. Both dropped to the bed, bouncing.
He fell into a deep sleep, body draped over Snape; an awkward position he'd regret later but for now, his body was too tired to care.