"He came. He left. Nothing else had changed. I had not changed. The world hadn't changed. Yet nothing would be the same. All that remains is dream-making and strange remembrance."
― André Aciman, Call Me by Your Name
Harry sat at the sturdy chair in the infirmary, his head down as he stared at the small glass bottle between his fingers, its shiny contents like melted silver, flickering every time light from the nearby window touched the surface of the glass.
His mind was completely blank, a calm before the storm he was sure of it, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He was tired, so very tired, and the only thing he wanted was to just go to bed and sleep through the next year.
But he couldn't do that, at least not yet, he thought as he glanced at the person lying in the bed next to him.
Severus.
Harry smiled a sad smile as his eyes drifting over the man's form, a heavy sense of guilt bursting in his chest at the sorry sight the man made.
He was thin, thinner than Harry had ever seen him which was saying a lot because the man had already been closed to malnourished on his best days.
His cheeks were sallow, his bones protruding beneath his pale skin, making him resemble a skeleton more than a living and breathing human being. And he was alive, Harry thought, thank Merlin he was.
He closed his eyes as he thought back to that horrible night, three days ago, the memory of Severus laying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, bleeding profusely from the wound in his neck making him lose his breath.
Nothing that happened before or after, not even his walk toward the forest to meet his death could compare with the way it felt to watch the man you loved, even though you knew you shouldn't, even though you hated yourself for loving him, die in your arms.
Because Harry did. He loved him with every fiber of his being, something he realized as soon as he saw him again. It had been a year since that night at the Astronomy tower, since the last time Harry had seen him, and he had foolishly thought that he was over him. He wasn't.
And as the man died in his hands, or so Harry thought, he made his peace with it. He made peace with the fact that he loved a monster.
But then Snape gave him his memories and once again, much like three years before, Harry's world turned on its axis, as he stepped into the Pensieve.
He wasn't in love with a monster. No. Severus Snape was a lot of things, but a monster was not one of them.
So once all was said and done, Voldemort lying in a crumble beneath his feet, Harry turned around and ran, uncaring for the voices calling his name. He ran as fast as his legs could take him, completely out of breath as he stumbled through the tunnel and into the shack.
He needed to get him home, he thought as he stepped through the decrypt room since just the thought of the man who had saved them all lying dead on that dirty floor made him want to scream.
But once he was there the sight that greeted him made him stumble over his feet, barely managing not to fall on his face. His chest. His chest was moving.
Severus was alive.
And so, ten minutes later saw Harry bursting into the Great Hall with Severus in his arms, shouting for help.
It must have been a funny sight, Harry thought as he shifted in the chair, trying to make himself more comfortable; Harry Potter, carrying the dreaded Headmaster Snape in his arms as if the man was some damsel in distress.
He could only imagine the look on Snape's face if he had been conscious to see it.
Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey answered his pleas even if she looked more confused than ever at the sight of Harry's worry. She levitated the man to the infirmary, or at least what was left of it, casting diagnostic charms and summoning potions left and right.
She proclaimed him out of immediate danger after an intense hour and a half, making Harry drop back into the chair as relief flew through him.
The Aurors came a few hours later, headed by Kingsley with McGonagall accompanying them, and Harry felt grateful that he had not listened to Hermione when she tried to convince him to leave and go to bed.
They were there to arrest Snape, and it took Harry taking his wand out and threatening to vanish them as he did Voldemort before they finally agreed to listen to him. Of course, one private viewing of certain memories was enough for everyone to back off. He even watched in amazement as Minerva's eyes misted over when she looked at Snape after exiting the Pensieve, her head shaking as she mumbled about resurrecting Dumbledore just for a chance to kill the blasted fool herself.
That had been three days ago, and Harry still hadn't moved away from Severus's side, too afraid of leaving the man alone, even though everyone had assured him that he would be well taken care of.
But he was starting to think that maybe he was overreacting, especially since he wasn't really known for his love for Snape, so his relentless vigil of the Potions Master was starting to look suspicious.
He knew Hermione knew or at least suspected his feelings since she stopped trying to convince him to move and just started bringing him food every few hours and books to read while he waited, a strange look in her eyes, something like pity but not quite every time she looked at him.
He sighed and stood up from the chair, taking a few steps to the bed next to Severus's before practically falling into it, already half-asleep.
He wasn't worried about Madam Pomfrey, since the matron had long given up on trying to throw him out of her infirmary.
He turned to his side, curling up under the soft blankets, his gaze upon the unconscious man across from him as his eyes slowly closed, falling into a deep sleep after mere seconds.
•
"If I could have him like this in my dreams every night of my life, I'd stake my entire life on dreams and be done with the rest."
― André Aciman, Call Me by Your Name
Harry slowly drifted back to consciousness; his mind sluggish as he stretched his back, groaning as loud cracks followed the movement. He sat up, running his hands over his face as he willed himself to fully wake up.
He turned around, setting his feet to the ground, the coldness of the stone floor helping him on his way to the world of the living, while he blindly searched for his glasses that he had left on the bedside table the previous night.
He stood up, yawning as he did so, before pulling on his sneakers and calling for a house-elf to bring him something to eat, more than a bit surprised to learn that he had slept through the whole morning and it was already time for lunch.
Maybe Hermione had been right, he really needed to catch some sleep.
He ate and then vanished the tray before snatching a book from his bedside table and taking a seat at his chair next to Severus.
He opened the book and started to read out loud, something he had started doing two days ago. He wasn't sure if the man could hear him, and even if he did, if it brought him a small amount of comfort. But Harry did it, nonetheless, thinking that maybe he could irritate the man with his voice enough for him to wake up, if only just to curse him for bothering him.
After four days, Harry would do anything, if it meant that Severus would wake up.
So, he read, getting lost in the book after a while, the book clutched in one of his hands while the other rested on the bed, almost touching Severus's but not quite.
He read a few chapters before he suddenly stopped, a small movement catching his eye. He looked up, startled as he saw Snape gazing at him steadily.
He was awake.
"So, this is hell.", Severus said, his voice coming out raspy and broken, making him frown, a frown that grew bigger as Harry smiled brilliantly in answer.
The book that was in Harry's hands dropped to the floor as he jumped out of the chair, shouting for Madam Pomfrey, his eyes never leaving the Potions Master even as he was moved out of the way when the matron ran over, fussing around Severus despite a glare the man threw at her for her troubles.
"You'll need extensive treatment during the next couple of months, but I'm expecting a full recovery.", Madam Pomfrey said after a while, a smile gracing her lips as she patted Severus's hand before she left them with a stern warning to Harry to not overexert her patient.
"Sit down, Potter before you fall down. You look like death.", the man said. Harry did as he asked, reclaiming his seat, squirming a bit as he felt the heavy gaze on him. It was at that moment that he realized that Snape knew.
Well, he'd known that already, but after everything, after all the madness during the last few days, that little fact had slipped his notice right until he found himself before the man.
Still, he swallowed his pride, unwilling to be ashamed for his feelings any longer. They were, what they were, and if Snape wanted to ridicule him for them, he could do nothing about it.
But even as he thought so, he knew deep down that Severus would never do such a thing.
"The Dark Lord...?"
"Dead, along with the Horcruxes. And don't worry about the Aurors, they've been dealt with. It's over Headmaster.", Harry hurried to say, watching as the tension in the man's shoulder slowly disappeared. Snape sighed, letting his head fall back to his pillow, one of his hands coming up to his face, partially hiding it from view.
Harry watched him for a few moments, wondering what was on the man's mind. He couldn't imagine how he would feel in Severus's place. Relieved, happy, free?
He had been fighting in this war for longer than Harry was alive, always in danger, looking over his shoulder, serving two masters for two decades, never able to just sit down and relax, never able to live.
But not anymore. Now he was free.
Harry looked down at his hands, the small glass bottle clutched tightly between his fingers as he thought about what came next. Like he said, the war was over, there were no more battles to wage, no more suffering and pain. He had been fighting Voldemort since he was eleven years, never truly believing that he would come out of it alive, so now that he had, he didn't know what to do.
He hadn't dared to plan during the years, since hope seemed like something foolish and forbidden, and now he found himself at the crossroad. Much like the man across from him.
"I'm sorry.", Harry said after a few moments, looking up to find Severus watching him already.
"I was wrong about you. We all were, but I should have known better. I'm only standing here because of you, and I want you to know that I'm grateful. I know that you don't think much of me, and yet you did so much in order to save me, and I'll never forget that. I'll never forget you."
Snape remained silent, his eyes unmoving as he stared at Harry, a slew of emotions swimming through those impossible eyes, and not for the first time Harry wished to be able to read his mind. Still, he remained silent, much like he did that night a year ago.
Harry looked away, feeling foolish and too young, as he took the bottle in his hand and set it on Snape's bedside table.
"She was a lucky woman, my mother, to be loved by a man like you.", Harry whispered before turning away and making his way out of the room, the heavy feeling of finality weighing upon his soul.