Battle Scars

The Headmaster of Hogwarts, Harry Potter was busy doing one of the things he loved best…

Teasing Severus Snape.

"Really Severus, do you honesty expect me to believe that your objections to Gryffindor's new keeper have anything to do with Miss Delgado's safety? Especially when I know that you have a 10 galleon bet with Minerva riding on the outcome of the Gryffindor-Slytherin match!"

Harry chuckled merrily as he watched the potions master squirm in his seat.

Then the man spoke.

"I can see that you remain as biased as ever towards your own house Harry. You're even worse than Albus was."

Growled Severus Snape irritably.

Harry laughed outright.

"Headmasters are, of course, completely unbiased and just."

Severus rolled his eyes before allowing Harry a small smirk.

"So… Now that's sorted. Was there anything else?"

Asked Hogwarts' youngest ever headmaster.

Minerva McGonagall, who'd been sitting silently, enjoying the exchange, now spoke up.

"How are you feeling Harry?"

She asked gently.

Harry's smile faded slightly.

"As well as can be expected. Really, I don't know why you both worry so…"

He soon realised that both Severus and Minerva were frowning at him so he held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay."

He sighed

"The pain is still there and I'm still not sleeping properly… But I can manage!"

Harry hated attention being drawn to his discomfort. It was so much easier to ignore the constant aches and twinges when he didn't have to talk about them.

"Would you be amenable to another batch of dreamless sleep?"

Asked Snape fixing his dark eyes on Harry's desk.

Harry smiled at him affectionately.

"I appreciate the sentiment Severus, but you understand my reluctance to accept your offer don't you?"

Snape nodded, still refusing to meet Harry's bright eyes.

Harry sat back in his chair with a resigned sigh.

"I will continue to manage… As I have already done until now."

McGonagall shifted in her seat and looked as though she really wanted to say something but would not allow it of herself.

"Minerva. I know that you are concerned about me, and I'm sorry that I can't do anything to assuage your concern. I think that it's about time we all accepted the inevitable."

"But Harry, I can't bear it. You seem so calm, but I know that inside you're just as scared as we are."

"I have resigned myself to death Minerva. I did so a long time ago."

"You are not an old man like Albus was Harry! You have so much to live for."

Harry took McGonagall's hand in his own, ignoring the protest of his aching fingers.

"I have given all that I have. I shall enjoy the peace that I have now, but I can give little more."

McGonagall grimaced, as if herself in pain, but she reluctantly nodded and gave Harry's frail hand a small squeeze.

Harry had to fight against a gasp at the pulse of pain that the simple action of affection caused, he thought that Snape might have noticed his discomfort because the professor frowned and stood to leave.

"Come Minerva,"

He said straightening his robe.

"Let's give the headmaster some space. I want to have another look at your proposed quidditch rota."

Harry smiled in gratitude at his old nemesis and watched as his two old professors left the office.

Once they had gone he allowed himself to slouch tiredly in his chair. He couldn't stem the need for 'keeping up appearances'. He'd been doing it throughout his whole life after all.

Fawkes the Phoenix flew over to him and perched on his desk nearby.

The astute bird had forsaken his preferred perch on Harry's shoulder when it had become obvious that the physical contact was causing his young friend considerable pain.

Harry smiled at Dumbledore's companion.

"I don't know why you turned to me of all people Fawkes, but I'm very thankful that you did."

It had surprised Harry immensely that Fawkes had come to him after Dumbledore's passing.

He'd awoken in his Hospital bed feeling worse than he'd ever felt before, and with a profound sense of emptiness.

Harry often wondered if he'd even have survived those first few nights if Fawkes hadn't been there.

He'd felt so guilty and alone.

He had seen Albus Dumbledore die, shortly followed by his deadly enemy Tom Riddle.

It had all been too much to take…

"So, I get the pleasure of your company as well Dumbledore. I can't say I'm too despondent. In fact, it will save me time. Two birds with one curse, as it were."

Voldemort sneered twirling his wand between long skeletal fingers.

Harry felt Dumbledore's hand fall gently on his shoulder.

"You know what to do Harry."

Whispered the headmaster.

"Yes sir."

Harry replied, straightening himself up and drawing his own wand before the final confrontation began.

They both turned to face Voldemort who continued to smirk.

"Which of you will be first? The mentor or his protégé?"

Harry took a step away from Dumbledore. His heart was hammering in his chest as he approached the dark lord.

"Evil dictators first Tom."

Growled the Man-Who-Lived, summoning every ounce of composure.

"A comedian Potter? Well, I'll have to see to that… Crucio! Let's hear your jokes now"

Harry felt the searing pain rip through his frame. He managed a silent prayer that this wasn't going to go spectacularly wrong before dark spots crept into his vision.

The curse was lifted and Harry felt himself being hauled to his feet by Dumbledore's strong arm.

Blinking a couple of times he saw Voldemort's disgustingly calm and nonchalant figure up ahead.

"Go to hell Riddle."

Harry chocked, blood ran from the side of his mouth from where he'd bitten his tongue and he stumbled slightly but the determination in his voice was clear.

Voldemort glared at him and levelled his wand.

"You die first Potter… Avada Kedavra!"

There was a moment as that green light rushed towards him, that Harry thought he could hear his mother screaming, but there was no time to dwell on it. The curse struck Harry's chest and sent icy electrical shocks straight to his heart.

Harry gasped and staggered backwards but he could feel the edge being taken off the curse by Dumbledore.

He hoped that the headmaster hadn't taken too much of the curse onto himself when the older wizard fell, but he remembered what he had to do.

Fixing his wand on the dark lord he summoned his remaining strength to cast the spell.

"Spiritus Mori!"

As soon as the spell hit Voldemort's body there was a blast, an explosion of magic, and it sent both Harry and Dumbledore flying…

And then there had been blackness…

"Potter!"

Harry jumped and quickly shook the vision from his mind as he straightened his posture, drawing composure about himself like a shield.

"Severus, was there something else?"

"What are you talking about? I've come to fetch you for dinner."

Harry blinked twice almost unable to believe that he'd let time slip away from him like that.

"Yes, yes. I'll be along shortly."

He muttered waving a hand dismissively in Snape's direction.

When the potions master did not appear to be moving Harry raised an eyebrow in question.

Snape was regarding him coolly.

"Oh, alright then. What is it Severus?"

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead in defeat.

"Harry, you may be an actor of the highest calibre, but I know that you're suffering. I think that you ought to take a break."

Harry remained silent shaking his head slowly from side to side.

"There is no shame in accepting that you need to rest… With what you're dealing with, the obvious pain you're in."

Harry winced and looked up.

"Is it really so obvious?"

He whispered, feeling the iron grip on his control start to slip.

"To me it is."

Harry was sure that he'd never heard Severus Snape speak so softly.

"I can't do it Severus. You can't possibly imagine. It's all I can do. I need this… Being Hogwarts headmaster is the only thing that's kept me sane."

Snape snorted at this but Harry's frown only deepened.

"I can't help thinking that if I let myself relax, even just for a moment…"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Harry could almost feel the Potion Master's penetrating gaze upon him.

He jumped as the other man suddenly embraced him.

"I'm sorry."

Whispered Snape, his voice was almost unrecognisable.

"Even I did not realise."

Harry felt himself slump. He leant heavily on a man who'd been a much-needed source of constancy in his life.

"It's always there Severus. Lurking, like a spectre in the shadows behind me. I can almost feel it… It's… like the rattling breath of a dementor. Always drawing at me, stretching me. And sooner or later I'm going to snap."

Strong arms encased him as he poured out his soul.

He vaguely smelt the fumes of potions clinging to the sleeves but the thought barely registered.

"You don't need to battle this alone Harry."

The soft voice still sounded almost foreign to Harry, but he felt too weak to question it, he clung on to the softly spoken words as a lifeline, anchoring him.

"I've always been here for you… I will be, right to the end. If you'll only let me."

Slowly, very slowly, the moment passed.

Harry gently shifted in the strange embrace.

"Severus."

He rasped, momentarily despairing at the weakness of his voice.

The Potions master recoiled very quickly, stepping back from Harry.

"It's dinner time headmaster. We ought to be leaving."

"Will you lend me your arm Severus. An ill man like me needs all the support he can get, and I know no-one else I'd rather take it from."

Said Harry softly, fixing Snape with his most piercing stare.

When Snape's eyes caught the double meaning of the phrase in Harry's quietly desperate gaze he nearly missed catching the hitch in his breath.

"Of course Harry."

He replied, offering the headmaster his arm.

With a genuine smile on his face Harry took the proffered arm and shakily stood.

"To dinner then, and the shocked faces of the whole school."

He said with a smirk.

Snape snorted.

"Indeed. And we may even be felicitous enough to witness a repeat of Minerva's pumpkin fountain antics… If we are very fortunate."

As it was Minerva McGonagall was less surprised than they'd imagined. Oh, there were certainly a few mutterings, particularly amongst the older students who had heard more about the legendary Potter-Snape feud of years gone by. But on the whole, and particularly amongst the staff, Headmaster Potter and Professor Snape were actually known to be on good terms.

Harry could not resist maintaining his composure and continuing to bury his discomfort to levels that it was barely noticeable to prying eyes. He would not give Voldemort the satisfaction of breaking him, even from beyond the grave.

He was proud of how steady he could hold his cutlery and how efficiently he completed the meal.

He could absolutely ignore the eagle-eyes of Transfiguration and Potions professors and he could even manage a wink for little Gregory Abbott, the 1st year Hufflepuff who seemed always to be staring at him with awe.

He was secretly quite fond of Gregory, the small boy reminded him so much of Colin Creevey that the nostalgia strongly rebuffed any offence at the boy's apparent hero-worship.

He had made sure to ask the fairly new head of Hufflepuff, Leonora Merrywhistle, to keep an eye on the boy and ensure that the obsession wasn't affecting his progress after all.