Caring for Severus, Part VI
By the three-month mark of Severus' convalescence, the routines of the world he shared with Harry in his dungeon rooms had become pleasantly familiar.
At Severus' insistence, Harry had been putting in fewer days with the castle repair crew recently, and had been more rested as a result. He had just returned from visiting Andromeda and Teddy-sometimes Harry stopped in at the Burrow on the way back, noteworthy in that he often returned therewith armed with samples of Molly Weasley's cooking.
Today, he'd returned armed with a loaf of her walnut and banana slice.
He had just showered Severus, and was now, as had become habit, wheedling his former Professor into trusting him with a haircut:
"Even if you hate it, you do know it'll grow back, right?" Harry pointed out from somewhere close behind him.
"Perhaps-though with you as the agent, I imagine even mundane procedures could have absurd outcomes." Severus commented, eyes closed as Harry worked his neck and shoulders.
His grip was not quite as firm as days previous, but Severus found he didn't mind terribly.
The youth harrumphed.
"That's Snape-ish for 'Harry stuffs up, even when doing easy things' I take it?" He asked after a long moment.
Severus gave a low chuckle. Harry's grip was getting stronger. Perhaps irritating him during massages was a good strategy going forward.
"A better translation would be, "Harry makes odd things happen."
"Ah, the old classic, then: Harry is a freak." Came the voice behind him.
Severus frowned at the acerbic tone, and decided Harry needed a distraction from this line of thinking. The youth had been in a bit of a sullen mood since he got home, less easy to draw into rapport. Severus had been meaning to give in some time or another when the subject came up, anyway:
"If it means so much to you, have at it." He sighed, faux put-upon.
"Really? You're going to let me cut your hair?" Harry sounded strangely buoyed by the prospect, whipping about into Severus' field of vision.
"Who else would I have do it?" Severus raised an eyebrow.
Harry laughed and abandoned the massage midway, much to Severus' chagrin, to grab a comb and scissors.
"Got to do this before you change your mind." He grinned.
No power on earth would make Severus admit how much he enjoyed having his hair brushed. Harry dipped the comb in warm water and drew it over Severus' scalp, making him shiver in a delicious way.
He was exceedingly careful, placing a warm hand between the cold metal instrument and Severus' shoulders at all times. Indeed, Harry fussed about as though he ran a beauty parlour- running his fingers through Severus' locks, insisting that one side was just slightly uneven, laughing and sounding lighter and happier the whole time.
The resultant trim was passable.
"Perhaps we should keep the clippings for Polyjuice?" Harry teased, reaching for a discarded snippet.
"Do so at your own peril. I will not be confined to a chair forever." Severus warned him.
The cheeky, carefree grin slid off Harry's face as the floo sounded in the sitting room.
"It'll be Gin." He said, sounding grim. "Stay here."
Severus intended to jest about where he was likely to go, when he felt the uprush of a Muffliato set the sitting room abuzz.
This puzzled him, since Harry had been content for him to eavesdrop on any number of intimate conversations before now. He resolved to edge toward the door and its keyhole to cancel the spell-Pomfrey and her dire warnings about his magic usage be damned.
The angry voice to match Ginerva's scowl resolved as the spell's buzz faded:
"-you're embarrassing me!"
"How is this about you?"
"Everyone's noticed that you're barely around to see me, so that part is very much about me! And it's just weird, what you're doing here, with him. People are gossiping about it!"
"And you care about gossip, do you?" Harry snorted.
"It's not like I'm talking about the idiots at the Prophet-it's my brothers, and our friends! They're worried."
Harry's back stiffened. "What exactly do they worry about?"
"They've got all sorts of wild theories, ranging from: 'He's a vampire who's feeding off you' to the idea that you're bloody in love with him!"
Harry's muttered reply was too low to hear.
"He doesn't even like you! Not really! He's making nice because you're politically useful, and as soon as he's well again, you'll be lucky to hear from him on birthdays and Christmas!"
"Well, he's agreed to work with me at Hogwarts next year." was Harry's retort.
"Oh great-so you can spend even more time with the greasy bastard?" Ginerva threw her hands in the air. "I'm putting my foot down. You move out of these dungeons, or you can find yourself a new bloody girlfriend."
"Piss off, Gin." Harry sneered.
"I'm serious! Can't you see you're making an idiot out of yourself?"
"We've been through this-I don't care what anyone thinks! Severus Snape is my friend. I'm not moving anywhere until he doesn't need me anymore."
"And you don't care what I think?"
"I can't control what you think!" Harry snarled. "But if you want to break up over this, it's probably better if we do."
Ginerva's jaw dropped. "You'd really give up on us-on my whole family- for this? For him?"
She paused. "Are you in love with him, Harry?"
His face went red. "It's not like that!"
Ginerva gasped.
He took a step backward. "I'm not trying to, to, you know, be with him. He doesn't want that. He's in love with my dead mother. I wouldn't do that to him, try to interfere, try to be more."
"Merlin's ghost." Ginerva breathed. "But you...?"
Silence.
"So, what? You'll be some, some monk devoted to Snape, following him around-"
"-He deserves someone to love him, to take care of him-"
Ginerva snorted. "What about what I deserve? Or what you deserve, while we're on it? I know you want kids, Harry. If you don't want to be with me, you could have practically any witch in Britain! Why are you throwing yourself away on him?"
There was an uncommon steel to Harry's voice: "He's the bravest man I know. The smartest too. He's principled-though he does a fair job at hiding it. He's brilliant at magic. And this whole time, he's been looking out for me."
"And treating you like garbage."
"Maybe. But do you know how rare that is, for me? For a capable adult, who knows what to do, to be prepared to help me face what I've had to face? To not expect me to solve everything alone? He's maybe the only one, besides Dumbledore, who ever gave me that."
Ginerva folded her arms. "You always say you want people to care about you like a regular person, 'just Harry', yeah? Well, that's never been Snape. If he cared about you, it was because you looked like your father, or because of your mother, or because of a prophecy. Never because of you."
Harry's shoulders slumped.
There was a long pause. "Maybe you're right about that. But for now, this is what I want to do with my life. This is what feels right. I can't choose to feel differently."
Another long pause.
"You're an idiot, Harry."
The floo sounded.
"Fuck." Harry swore.
Then the door to Severus' quarters slammed.
Harry, it seemed, had taken a walk, leaving Severus with his mind reeling.
xxxx
Severus stared, intently, at a crystal phial on his shelf. This, then, was the missing piece of the puzzle, the motive behind Harry's kindnesses.
How in Merlin's name had it happened?
He knew himself well enough in terms of both appearance and character to know that he was an unlikely specimen to inspire romantic affection. Any sort of affection, really. This was partly by Severus' design, to avoid entanglement and his own disappointment. Very few people were worth getting close to.
Yet, he cursed, he had allowed himself to get close to Harry. Why had he ever let down his careful guard? Trusted that Harry's touch-that his oh-so-innocent offers of help were indeed so?
"No trap doors indeed!" Severus muttered aloud.
How he wished Albus were alive to talk to. This was assuredly a problem in which Severus was out of his depth. Had the war done this to Harry? Some sort of PTSD? And what was the appropriate course of action now?
It was a moral requisite, surely, that Severus try to put distance between himself and Harry so that he could recover his right wits.
Severus sighed. He was comfortable here. Contented as he had rarely been. Ah, well, it was too good to last. You should have known better that situations like this are not for you.
Perhaps this was his punishment for behaving like a spy and eavesdropping when he was supposed to be retired, Severus mused.
But then, Harry shouldn't have used Severus' own bloody spell against him, if he didn't want it flouted!
Was there any way Severus could simply pretend not to have heard? Go on as they had been?
No. Damn Harry, defending him, more thoroughly than anyone ever had-Severus' black eyes glittered at the memory. Calling him principled. He could hardly take advantage of the situation after that.
He edged his way over in the chair to firecall Poppy.
No doubt, after a week alone, he'd return to the Weasley girl and beg forgiveness.
xxxx
Harry was a little shame-faced as he returned to Severus' quarters. He'd stormed off to cool down without considering that he'd left Severus half-naked without any help, or word of when to expect him.
On entering the bedroom, however, he discovered Severus was not there. He checked the bathroom, the sitting room again, and was about to become frantic until he realised that the chair wasn't present either.
Severus had gone somewhere-willingly?
Oh no.
He threw some powder into the grate and fire-called the infirmary:
"Madam Pomfrey - is Severus up there?"
She gave him a cold look. "He is."
"Is he okay?" Harry begged.
She relented a little. "He's not had an accident, but he's told me that he needs to return to my care. Something about you not having enough time for him?"
Harry blushed. It was an unflattering lie, but he was grateful that Severus hadn't gone with a version of the truth.
"Can I come up and see him?"
"Visiting hours are only until tea-time." She warned him.
"I'll be good." Harry promised. He sighed as the flames died away and headed out into the castle proper.
He was not looking forward to this conversation.
xxxx
Severus was a little surprised when Harry appeared at his bedside so quickly-but then, he told himself he shouldn't have been. The boy always had more rashness than sense.
"I'm sorry I went out without telling you. That was badly done of me." Harry said without preamble.
Severus continued to stare. He imagined he looked quite forbidding.
Harry swallowed, looked about, cast another dratted Muffliato, and continued.
"I'm also guessing you heard me talking with Gin?"
Severus nodded, once.
Harry sighed. "I'm sorry you heard her say those things. And I'm...sorry you heard me, too. I would never have said those things to you...I never wanted to make you...uncomfortable with me."
He paused.
"This doesn't have to change things, though."
Severus snorted. "I can think of one thing it changes rather significantly."
Harry's face burned red. "Oh God, you must think-let me-gah! This is so hard." He took a deep breath, and then, amazingly, managed to look Severus in the eye.
"I promise you that when I made that offer, I didn't have any ulterior motives. Or...feelings. At least, that I knew about. I didn't realize that there was anything more going on than a kind of unusual friendship, until I started fighting with Ginny about you all the time over at the Burrow. I would never have lied to you, to try and get you to let me..." here, painfully earnest words seemed to fail the young man.
Severus nodded, once, accepting this. Harry had never been a very convincing liar.
Harry let out a puff of held breath. "Good. So, if we leave uh, that part of our daily routine out of it, there's no reason we can't go back to-"
"-No."
Harry looked like he'd been slapped. "No? You don't want to be-"
"Shh. We can remain friends. But I don't think it's wise for us to resume the closeness of sharing quarters. You need some space from me until the situation becomes less...confused."
Harry's chin jutted forward. "I'm not 'confused', Professor."
"Of course you are." Severus replied.
"No, I'm not. At all. You're well within your rights to not want me to be your carer anymore, if that's your preference, but do it because you're uncomfortable and that's what you want, not under some misguided belief that you're helping me. Because it won't change anything about how I feel." His eyes were sparkling green and defiant.
Lord save Severus from teenagers who thought they were in love.
"Think logically." He goaded. "There is nothing suitable about myself as an appropriate partner for you. We are not well-matched physically, in terms of our sexual preferences, personalities, or even our interests. I have never read Quidditch Throughout the Ages and I rather doubt you've read Machiavelli's Prince."
"Is that your favourite book?" Harry cocked his head.
"One of them." Severus replied. "My intent is to illustrate one small example of the many ways we are incompatible, thus rendering your feelings irrational."
Harry actually laughed. "Feelings are irrational, Sir. You'll have to do better than that."
Severus rolled his eyes. "Why do you persist in addressing me with honorifics only when they are least contextually appropriate?"
"Because you respond better to respect than affection, Professor." Harry gave a wry smile. "I'm guessing because respect can be earned and then demanded, whereas affection either develops or it doesn't, and has no rules at all. You wouldn't like that."
Severus blinked, wrongfooted by not only Harry's revealing understanding of Severus' nature, but his confidence in his knowledge.
Harry gave an easy shrug. "Look, you don't owe me anything at all. I'm not going to try anything with you, ever, I swear it. I know where your feelings lie-have done from the outset. But you're not allowed to tell me what I feel. This isn't a crush. It comes from here," he touched his chest, "not further down. And I never fancied a bloke before this, so don't go on about teenage hormones or whatever your next tack was."
"War trauma?" Severus raised a sardonic brow.
Harry snorted. "I should send you to live at the Burrow. You'd fit right in." He sighed. "Love and respect are not a delusion, or a bloody result of damage, alright?" He stared Severus in the eye as though he were the one being wayward. "So, what about this? You stop worrying about me, given that I am a big boy, who according to some people, saved the world three-and-a-bit months ago, and you decide whether or not you want to move back into the dungeons based on your own preferences."
Severus began to exclaim, but Harry held up a hand. "Pomfrey isn't nearly as busy here anymore-almost all her patients have gone home or been transferred to St Mungos, so I bet she'd be willing to do a daily house call for your unguent if I asked her. Then we'd just be two friends and colleagues, living together, until you're alright to live on your own. What do you say?"
Severus found Harry's approach suspiciously adult. He'd have thought Granger had a hand in it, except the time lapse between incident and resolution made Harry's reaching out to her unlikely.
Could Severus in good conscience take this offer? Was it wrong of him to take Harry's statements of personal responsibility at face value? If he were honest with himself, he knew he'd already begun lamenting the loss of the friendship, which he'd assumed would atrophy once Harry realised Severus knew his awkward secret. The sense of loss had been profound.
But Harry had surprised him-again. Their fledgling friendship was, apparently, sturdier than melodramatic revelations of love.
Severus had never been prepared to stake his friendship with Lily on a similar revelation.
"Professor?" Harry looked worried. Severus supposed he'd been staring intently into space a moment too long.
"We'll have to get the blasted wheelchair down the stairs again." He complained.
Harry grinned.
xxxx
That evening, a tired and crotchety Severus was struggling to sleep. Outside his door, in the sitting room, Harry was snoring.
The boy had irritated him all evening by going to touch him, then flinching back, as though wary of intruding upon Severus' personal space.
In light of just how much of Severus' body Harry had intruded upon, he found the sudden shy dance ridiculous.
Here, in the dark, he let himself think what he had refused to allow himself to dwell on since the upheavals of the afternoon: it was rather...flattering...that someone thought themselves in love with him-someone considered universally desirable, no less.
Even if that someone was deluded.
Even if they were a completely unsuitable young man.
So very few had ever loved him. Albus, Lily, his mother. And none of them had ever put his needs before their own-all three had, at one time or another, chosen to love another person over him.
But Harry had shrugged off an entire clan of Weasleys-his surrogate family-for the pleasure of Severus Snape's company!
The thought made him smile, though he knew it shouldn't. Harry wasn't some prize to be won. He was a young man who had obviously been taken care of too little, in the ways that mattered, if he could latch on to Severus' dubious watch over his childhood as inspiration for romance.
In that, he supposed, they were alike.
It would be unconscionable to encourage Harry's feelings. Severus had come to believe-as no doubt the world already did-that Harry Potter deserved better than Severus Snape.
Moreover, he did not love Harry in return.
But if he were the kind of man who could enter into romance lightly, to experiment, he could see how quiet evenings, talking and reading in front of a fire, laughing and teasing, could be desirable. Harry serving up a meal as Severus poured some wine, discussing their best and worst students. Or even seeing that half-smile Harry always found for him upon returning home from a lousy afternoon at the Ministry.
Idealised nonsense, of course. Severus preferred women, and Harry quite probably did too, when he was in his right mind, so there could never be anything truly physical between them.
When that was ruled out, the impulses left over were merely the desires borne of close friendship.