A/N: Same disclaimers apply
May 3, 1999
1:30am
As soon as Harry popped into the darkness, he saw a window, warm with the light of a candle. He readjusted the overnight bag on his shoulder and hesitated before going up to the front door. He tried to calm himself by thinking over and over that it had to be Snape inside the house – no one else would have known where the sword had been – except Ron and Hermione, and they thought Harry was dead. He lifted his hand to knock softly on the door.
"Come in, Potter," a muffled voice found Harry through the oak door.
Harry slowly pushed the door open and surveyed the room before he stepped inside. He was reminded of his vision from just before his fourth year, where he'd seen Voldemort sitting in an armchair facing the fire in a dark room. Snape – he presumed – sat in such a chair, facing the fire. Harry could see the tail end of a blanket on the floor, though he could feel the heat from the fire from where he stood.
"For goodness' sake, Potter, come in and close the door. You're letting in the chill," Snape's voice snapped Harry out of his distraction and he stepped over the threshold and let the door close behind him.
Harry made his way cautiously toward the fire, one hand gripped tightly onto his rucksack and the other holding fast to his wand. He was silent as he finally came close enough to the chair to see Snape's face, which looked gaunt and shadowed in the light of the fire. Harry could see the flames reflected in the black eyes of the man. The blanket was pulled up tightly around his neck, so Harry couldn't see what he knew were the bite marks from Nagini. His eyes narrowed fractionally.
"I imagine you have questions," Snape looked Harry in the eyes.
Harry nodded once, his jaw set.
"Well sit down," Snape eyes looked pointedly behind Harry and Harry turned around to see a second armchair, angled in front of the fire like Snape's.
Harry let his bag slide to the floor and he backed up to the seat and lowered himself slowly, wand still in hand.
Snape looked irritated. "Oh, for the love of…surely even you, Potter, must know that I am in no position to accost you in any way. This location is unplottable. There is no need to hold your wand in such a death grip."
Harry's eyes flickered down to his wand and then back up to Snape's face. He adjusted himself so he could slide his wand into his pocket, and then looked expectantly at Snape.
"Well?" Snape began, "Questions?"
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"When?" Snape rolled his eyes, apparently annoyed by the vagueness of the question.
"After I left you," Harry clarified. "I thought you were dead."
"Of course you did," Snape looked like he wanted to shake his head, but restrained himself because of what Harry assumed must be the snake bite. "You'd have never left if you thought there was any way to save me. And you had work to do."
Harry almost snorted. "Work," he managed to get out.
"I assume the Dark Lord is dead?" Snape raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "He's gone."
Snape stared at him for what seemed like quite a long time before quietly responding, "Well done."
"D'you want to know what happened?" Harry asked.
"Not yet," Snape, again, looked like it was difficult to restrain himself from shaking his head. "I have not answered your question."
Harry tucked his leg up underneath him and settled into the chair.
"Once you left, I took the potions I needed and called for your house elf."
"Kreacher?" Harry's eyes widened in surprised.
Snape gave him a condescending glare, "Do you have another house elf of which I am unaware?"
"Sorry," Harry apologized.
"I called the elf and had him apparate me to Grimmauld Place, where I stayed for a short while until I had sufficient strength to apparate myself here."
"You live here?" Harry took a quick look around.
Snape sighed. Harry could see his eyes roll even though they were closed, "For the time being."
"Where are we?" Harry asked.
"Somewhere safe," Snape told him. "And that is all you need to know."
"How long are you going to stay here?" Harry wondered.
"I should be well-enough recovered in a few days and shall move at that time."
"Move where?" Harry shifted forward slightly.
"Somewhere no one will be able to find me."
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Snape cut him off.
"Ever."
"So you're going to let everyone think you're dead," Harry seemed perturbed.
"Yes," Snape confirmed.
"Everyone but me," Harry pointed out.
"Yes," Snape shifted a hand beneath the blanket. "Although I sincerely doubt that if you told anyone of my survival that they would believe you, seeing as how I will be unable to be found."
"I wasn't going to tell anyone," Harry was insulted. "But why let me know?"
"You wanted to know," Snape looked like he wanted to shrug.
"I wanted to know," Harry repeated.
"You probably went back to the shack after the fighting was over and saw that I was gone. You must have called Kreacher and asked him to find me, at which point I instructed Kreacher to tell you that I had been to Grimmauld."
"You instructed…" Harry interrupted, but was stopped by a glare.
"You then must have specifically asked to know where I was, at which point Kreacher gave you the coordinates. You clearly wanted to know what had happened to me. I assumed you would not stop until your curiosity had been satisfied. I merely saved you from decades of unrest."
"You," Harry looked at Snape in disbelief. "You expect me to believe that you did this because you didn't want me to have any sleepless nights over your whereabouts?"
Snape was silent.
"Forgive me if I have a hard time believing that, Professor."
Snape harrumphed, "And you deserved to know."
Harry's brows contracted in confusion.
Snape sighed resignedly, "If you had done what you needed to do to defeat the Dark Lord, you deserved to have something in return. Knowing my fate was inconsequential. I chose to indulge you."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "So my knowing you're alive is a reward for defeating Voldemort."
"If you want to call it that," Snape said passively.
"But why do you want everyone else to think you're dead?" Harry asked.
"Even you, Potter, should be able to work that out for yourself," Snape looked like he wanted to swat Harry over the head. "I would be in for a miserable existence were I to go back to the life that awaits me."
"Why?" Harry was genuinely puzzled.
Snape closed his eyes in a move of practiced patience. "Because," he ground out, "half the world would want me dead for killing Albus and the other half would want me dead for abandoning the Dark Lord. I would spend the rest of my days shunned and hunted. Forgive me if I don't relish the thought of that for the next 100 years."
"Oh." The rationale seemed to dawn on Harry. "Well, my life is going to be difficult, too, but you don't see me hiding out."
"Your life?" Snape's voice conveyed his irritation. "How, pray tell, is your life going to be anything but perfect until you die?"
"I know you still don't believe this about me, sir, but I hate everything that goes along with my destiny and Voldemort. I don't want to become the Ministry's poster boy for fighting evil. I don't want to be an Auror anymore, but no one will hire me for me, all anyone will ever see is The Boy Who Lived."
"And the man that defeated the Dark Lord."
"Man?" Harry was taken aback.
"Surely it has not escaped your notice that you are no longer a child? I would have thought killing the Dark Lord would have alerted you to that fact."
"I didn't kill him," Harry stated flatly.
"What do you mean, you didn't kill him? I thought you said he was gone," Snape's voice had a slight edge of panic to it.
"He is. He's dead. But I didn't kill him. I destroyed all his Horcruxes and then someone else killed him. Not even sure who it was; I didn't stick around to ask."
"Well, where were you when he was being killed? No," Snape put up a hand to forestall Harry. "You tell me everything that happened after I last saw you."
Harry told him the events that transpired from the time he left the shack to the time he knocked on Snape's front door. Snape didn't interrupt him once – didn't even have any particular expression during the entire story.
"So," Snape began once Harry had finished. "Everyone thinks you're dead as well."
"Yeah," Harry rubbed the back of his neck in a sign of discomfort. "I suppose."
"And how long are you proposing letting everyone think this?"
Harry raised his shoulders as he replied, "I dunno. Hadn't really thought about it. I was more concerned with finding you, to be honest."
"Of course you were," Snape muttered. "Well," he cleared his throat, "Now you know. You can go back to your life and know that I am, indeed, alive."
"Go back?" Harry's brow furrowed. "I don't want to go back. Didn't you hear me before? I don't want that life."
"Don't be ridiculous. You have scores of people that want you. Alive. What about," he paused, his hand shifting again under the blanket, as if it wanted to wave through the air, "Granger? Weasley? And the girl?"
"The girl?" Harry asked.
"Weasley," Snape clarified. "The youngest; the girl."
"Oh," Harry sighed, his hand going back to his neck. "Well, Ron and Hermione have each other, you know? Yeah, they'll be sad – they'll miss me, but…they'll move on. And…and Ginny…she – uh, we – she'll move on, too."
"Oh, don't give me that tripe, Potter. I've seen the way you look at her. It's positively nauseating."
"No, I – I do care about her, but…I'm not sure I care enough. I can't – I can't imagine living the life I know is waiting for me. I understand what you mean, sir, about not wanting to live that way the rest of your life. I know you don't believe it, but it will be the same for me. All the Death Eaters will try to hunt me down and kill me for causing Voldemort's downfall, and everyone else will hound me as a celebrity. I'll never have a moment's peace. And I care more about avoiding that than I do about Ginny." He paused, as if he realized how that sounded. "I know I'm selfish, Professor, but I feel like I deserve some peace, after all I've done – all I've gone through. Maybe I'll go back some day, but for now – for now I just want some time to myself."
Snape looked at Harry with intensity, as if he were trying to figure out a complex puzzle. "What are you planning on doing, then? You must know you can't use Grimmauld."
"I know. I probably won't ever go back there, anyway. I don't know what I'm going to do. I haven't the faintest idea how to disappear." Harry stared at his hands in his lap for a long moment, then jerked his head back up. "I could stay with you!" he nearly shouted, causing Snape to jump.
"Absolutely not!" Snape vehemently opposed.
"Why not, sir? We're both supposed to be dead. You know a lot more about secrecy than I do. I'll stay with you until I'm ready to go back, and then I'll leave you alone."
"No." Snape's eyes darkened.
Harry's mouth dropped open, and then he abruptly shut it. "Oh. Right. You hate me. I'll, erm, think of something else."
Snape rolled his eyes and sighed. "You hate me. I do not hate you. You may be the most insufferable person who has ever lived, but I do not hate you. You have too much of your mother in you for me to hate you," he finished softly.
"I don't hate you," Harry cocked his head to the side. "Not after those memories. You can have them back now."
Snape sucked in a breath.
"I mean, if you want them, that is," Harry amended.
"Not…at this time," Snape replied. "Although I shall let you know if I change my mind."
"Then I can stay with you?" Harry's eyes brightened hopefully.
Snape's lips pursed into a thin line. He let out a low oath before responding, "We will probably kill each other in a few days' time."
"S'ok," Harry said cheekily. "We're already dead anyway."
"Well then, you have some work to do," Snape said meaningfully.
"Right," Harry replied, getting ready to stand up. "I'll have to go back to Grimmauld and get my things."
"Well," Snape agreed, "there is that, but I was referring to a body. If you truly want people to believe you are dead and not just living out of the public eye, you'll have to transfigure a body so they have something to find and bury."
"See," Harry smiled genuinely, "That's why you're so much better at this than I am – I'd've never thought of that. What about you? Will I have to do one for you, too? Or did you already do it?"
Snape rolled his eyes. "In my condition? Must you be so daft? And no, I do not need one. Your friends saw me die as well. Their testimony will be sufficient. No one will need to recover my body."
"People saw my dead body," Harry told him defiantly. "There won't be any shortage of witnesses for that."
"Yes, but you are cared for far more than I am," Snape pointed out. "They will demand a public mourning for their savior. You need a body."
"All right," Harry acquiesced. "But I'll need your help. I'm sure I've got to do much more than just transfigure a stick to look something like me."
"Well," Snape nearly smiled, "at least you're not a complete idiot."