Disclaimer: credit to JKR

You Could

By WittchWay

Harry Potter had been awake a long time before he actually realized it. He had been lying there, in bed, watching the morning light dance across the ceiling. Watching the flicker of sun and shadows, specks of dust floating in the air, mesmerized by the way they swirled and moved, freely, peacefully, without encumbrance. …mindless, numb.

He hadn't even realized his eyes were open until the sun was fully upon him filling the room with its yellowish gleam and reflection, the brightness of the morning hurting his eyes, causing him to blink several times in quick session.

It was only then he realized he was awake and had been for a while staring at the high infirmary ceiling of Hogwarts. His mind had been empty till that moment lost in the light and shadows of the room, it was the realization of being awake that caused the sudden tightening in his chest, he gasped as the last twenty-four hours came crashing down upon him… Being bound to Snape, Magic and power, an endless swirl of faces and people, handshaking, picture taking, talking and whispers…. And then the chase through a dark forest, hexes and spells, the surge of darkness from his parents murderer, the cruel words he had taunted him with, and then his own anger at being used by Dumbledore, by Snape and then finally the death of the Dark Lord. (No he didn't think of it as murder on his part.)

Harry snapped his eyes shut wishing his mind would fog back over and he could peacefully return to the mindlessness of watching the shadows creep across the ceiling. He lay there waiting for his eyes to cross and time to pass but at alas the numbness didn't' come… he was awake and his mind was racing, no matter how he tried to force it back to normal it simply wouldn't go.

He would give anything to fall into a dreamless sleep and stay there for eternality. It would be better then facing the next few days, better then facing Snape. Better then facing the school and professors and the wizarding community. He had fulfilled his end of the prophecy. He had killed, he had lived and the other was dead. Overall life should now return to a fearless normalcy for the wizarding world.

He knew it wouldn't.

Things were never that simple.

He still had the matter of the bond hanging over his head. Not that the bond mattered anymore. Yes, he still had his yearly duty to Snape. But the results after the bond had not turned out the way he had hoped. None of it had turned out the way he had wanted since the moment he found out about the bond. Truthfully if any of it had gone his way he would have been suspicious.

Harry sighed, raising a trembling hand up to brush the fringe out of his eyes, afterwards letting a tired finger trace the outline of his scared forehead. He could feel the blistered bump in the shape of a lightening bolt, the scar tingled slightly at his touch, more from the pain of the blister then any real sense of magic. He had a distinct impression he would never again feel the tinge of pain like he had when Voldemort was alive. He knew for sure that part of his life was over and would remain so.

It was the next part of his life that was in question. Not so much the part of becoming an Auror because he knew now that wasn't for him. Yes, The thought of becoming an Auror had been appealing while Voldemort and his followers had been on the loose, had been his duty as the-boy-who-lived and expected of him but with Voldemorts destruction there seemed no sense in that anymore. He now yearned for a nice normal, calm job. No dark Lords, no death eaters, no duels in dark forests…something simple.

The only questions now lie in his relationship with Snape.

But… he knew the answer to that.

There was no relationship.

Another something that had not turned out as he had wanted.

The man had made that perfectly clear before he had defeated Voldemort. He made it perfectly clear when Voldemort had been taunting him just hours ago… or had it been days. He wasn't quite sure but whenever it had been he had his answers. His bond with his mother had been sacrificed in the name of war. And that war was over.

He was not needed at the castle any longer, at least by Snape. Snape had his life as the new headmaster, he had his future all planned out and it clearly did not include him.

He wasn't going to force Snape to welcome him. He was not going to force anyone into accepting him. He would do his yearly duty as the bond demands but he was going use this time to live his life.

Harry knew this was his time, he was going to live his life like he had been trying to tell everyone he wanted to before the bond, the life no one had listened to. He could be what ever he wanted, live where he wanted, become the person he was meant to be if it hadn't been for the strange circumstances that always seemed to invade his life.

But even as the thoughts took root in his mind he knew they were wrong. It wasn't what he truly wanted. But then nothing ever happed for him that way. But he knew he had to cast away those feelings and leave before he opened himself up for more pain and hurt.

With all the determination he possessed he knew he had to get out of this bed and away from the castle before anyone noticed he was gone Or before he was coerced into staying by the professors or before Snape determined they needed to still gain control of their magic. He didn't' think he could be around the man and keep his sanity. Knowing he couldn't touch, taste, love… it would be too much. It would only suck him back into false hopes and he couldn't let himself be that vulnerable again… not ever. He deserved better…. At least he hopes he did.

Suddenly the door to his left squeaked noisily across the room, quickly followed by what were distinctively Madam Pomfrey's shoes on the stone floor. Harry shut his eyes abruptly incase she stopped to see if he was awake, but the click of her shoes moved passed just as fast without a break in their pace. Her office door opened and shut and the room was once again silent.

Harry released a breath he hadn't been aware he had been holding. He did not want to be disturbed, he wanted to get the hell out of here and quick, all he needed was his wand and a single change of clothes everything else could wait, Hedwig would follow instinctively, she always did. Harry waited another moment to make sure no one was following Pomfrey and when none came he sat up swinging his legs over the edge of the bed all in one swift movement and instantly regretted it. His head swam with dizziness, a strange sensation of pitching forward over took him. Fearing he would actually fall forward he grabbed the covers of the bed and leaned back against his pillows to stop the spinning sensation, his eyes tightly shut.

Trying to gain his bearings he sat back up keeping his eyes shut. The dizziness seemed to pass if he moved slowly and in small stages. He swung his legs back over the bed, exhaling he creaked one eye open, sensing his balance returning he opened the other. He sat there a moment on the edge of his bed gripping the bed covers, breathing deeply. Scared the falling sensation would over take him again and he would actually fall he kept his movement to a minimum. Wiping the sweat from his forehead he slipped on the waiting slippers and waited for the nausea to pass.

When it did he reached over and opened the side drawer looking for his clothes or wand. Seeing neither he cursed, he would have to go to his rooms to get them, the rooms he shared with Snape. His chances of leaving unnoticed were dwindling. Harry wrapped the top bed cover around him cape style and stood up on shaky legs.

He instantly shut his eyes to stop the room from spinning and shuffled forward, his legs weren't quite as strong as he would have liked and it was going to make the long trek to the headmasters office slow but he was hoping upon hope that he could gather his things and leave the castle without being spotted.

The problem was not to be spotted by the students. As he had no idea what time it was let alone what day it was he was going to have to be extra careful not to get caught. He didn't think he could stomach the thought of being questioned about his future plans, about Snape or Voldemort.

Harry made it to the infirmary door with little incident and turned to look back over the room. He felt a strange case of nostalgia come over him, smiling, he looked back at his bed. Madam Pomfrey always gave him the same one. The best bed in his opinion. The bed he had spent countless times in, after quidditch matches, strange hexes and charms, potion accidents, transfiguration mishaps… he knew once he walked out this door it was going to be a long time before he returned to the castle.

The other side of the castle

Severus Snape woke with a headache, his eyes dry and bloodshot. His mouth felt heavy and gritty as if he had been on a drinking binge though he hadn't been. In the past few days he had barely slept more than a couple of hours here and there. And usually only doing so at Madam Pomfrey nagging. It wasn't that he wasn't tired, that he was, beyond tired really. He felt as if he could sleep the month through and still be tired. It was Potter…always Potter.

Lying in the infirmary, unmoving and still. Dark circles around his eyes, the scar on his forehead blistered and bleeding. Pomfrey had had to send off to St. Mungo's for a stronger healing Potion. The ones she usually kept in stock had failed to stop the bleeding, though they would probably been good enough for a normal student's injury and Potter was anything but.

Snape rolled over on his side pulling the bedding with him and burrowed down farther into the warmth. He shut his eyes and reopened them reaching his hand under the covers and pulled out the book he had rolled over onto. Tossing it onto Potter side with a sigh he shut his eyes again.

He hated that book, hated what the book stood for. He wasn't actually reading the book, the damn thing wasn't meant for reading. It was one of those books you buy in the gift shop of whatever hospital your family was in, it was meant to help pass the time, but it only became a crutch with time. He had bought it years ago when his mother lay dying, though the old hag hadn't died that day or even that hospital visit. He had carried it with him every time he was called to sit by a bedside. Book open on his lap to a numberless page, to a nameless chapter. He never got past the first page, his thoughts always drifted, to the person in the bed, to his life with that person. Not always good, yet not always bad and he had carried on his little ritual and dug out the book when Potter had showed no signed of waking up.

Snape flopped on to his back with a louder sigh, his arms flung out at his side, he stretched his arms up over his head arching his back and with a loud crack rolled out of bed.

He sat on the edge of what he thought of as his side of the bed and looked over the room, it was primarily red and gold. It was a nice color and less horrid then he would like to admit. It wasn't as calming as his Slytherin green and silver was but it was warm and welcoming in away.

Potters school trunk was pushed into one corner, the rest of his and Potters clothes hung in the small wardrobe off to the right of him. Neither of them had a large wardrobe, Potters clothes consisted mainly of Weasley jumpers and Aurors robes, several pair of muggle jeans and trainers. His was black robes, shirts, pants, boots. Yes he had other color of robes but they never seemed appropriate, he sure as hell wasn't' going to wear the purple robes with stars on them the Dumbledore preferred.

This room was minimally furnished. The bed, a nightstand on each side, the wardrobe and the fireplace completed the room. Not even a chair for lounging.

Snape stood and made his way to the wardrobe, stripping where he stood and fished out fresh clothing. He tossed them onto the bed and turned back to the small closet. Their bond robes hung fresh and newly pressed in the center of the closet. One right next to the other. He was sure it was the house elves doing. He hadn't even remembered taking off the robe though he must have sometime in the last several days. It had been splattered with blood and dirt, sweat stained and ripped. Potters had been likewise.

He vaguely remembered the last few days, carrying Potter back to the school on foot. He had been scared to apparate for fear of slpinching them both. They had been tired and drained of energy. No one had stopped them though McGonagall had given him a sad pitiful look. She alone had been running the school for the last few days, directing the students and Ministries inquires and delegating tasks and round up of death eaters through the Order, he suspected she had Dumbledore's help but as long as he didn't cross paths with the old man he didn't really care. He was still angry and disappointed on Potters behalf.

Snape ran his hand over the smooth fabric of the traditional robes, the magic in them seemed to hum with confidence and satisfaction. Most likely it was the completion of the bond. He pulled Potters robe out of the closet and held it to his nose smelling it. Rejected there was no scent. The house-elves had done their job unaware that an ex potion professor would be rubbing his face in his bonds robes at 6 in the morning. He dropped the material from his face staring at it, it had only smelled clean and fresh. Snape snorted at what had obviously become a moment of disillusioned weakness…had he really wanted to smell the boy so badly he was wishing for dirty clothes to get a whiff of the boy.

He really did need more sleep if he had been reduced to a hormonal teenage boy begging for scent of his lover. Snape tossed the offending robe over the foot of the bed, picking up his own clean clothes he marched to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Not ten minutes later Severus Snape emerged somewhat clean and ready for the day. His fresh robes hung loosely around him, the old ones discarded in the clothes bin. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his black socks and boots doing up the laces manually. He didn't care for the way its magical brother did the tying up.

Snape grunted picking up his wand from the nightstand and placed it in the hidden pocket in his robe, he rarely used his other wand anymore. It didn't feel right in his hands anymore, the weight of it was off, quite a shame in his opinion, it was a fine wand one he had since his school days.

Snape patted his pocket and started for the door when the red of Potters traditional class cloak caught his eye. Something on it didn't look right. Snape flicked his wand across the bed and the sheets and duvet sprang to life making itself presentable.

Snape picked up Potters cloak and laid it out on the bed. He pulled his own cloak out of the closet and lay it out on the bed next to Potters.

The red and green cloaks contrasted nicely next to each other, the colors opposite of the other, same symbols, same characteristics… Snape squinted, confused he traced his hand over the symbols, one then the other mirroring it with his other hand on his robe… Devil's snare, vines and stars, the back was filled each with a grim and cauldron…the last symbol was a book, Potters open with a heart centered on the pages, his a opened book with a heart in the center. Snape dragged his finger across his book it was a rich leather bound book, the heart was more pink then red while Potters heart was very red.

He touched his robe again tracing the patterned of stars that lead up to his symbols. He couldn't put his finger on it something was different, something was not as it had been. He touched the book on his cloak again, running his finger over the book then the heart.

He knelt down next to the bed so that he was closer to the cloaks, what was it? What was different? The books were open, the hearts were the same except his was more pinkish but it had always been that way had been since he received his own cloak nearly twenty years ago. The research book had basically said he was withholding of emotion and acceptance from a future lover. Of course he had never expected this whole business with the bond but the lack of emotion was expected on his part. He was an ex death eater spy, he didn't have time for silly emotion in his life, he had to be ready for anything thrown at him. He didn't trust easy, he was emotionally closed off, but it had kept him alive all these years, had kept him one step ahead.

Snape moved a finger over Potters cloak, tracing the book as he had his moments before. The feel of the cloak was different, it radiated a different energy. With his left hand still on his hearted cloak with the right he traced Potter red heart.

Snapes mind raced, the red…what did it mean… Potters heart lay open? Open like a book? … No that wasn't right…

Snape traced the heart again… it was right there at his finger tips he could feel it… Potter's red heart… waiting for love… accepting of love… trusting in love…

"Shit…" but the word had barely left his foul mouth when Potters cloak came to life, it glowed brightly, pulsating under his touch, Snape snatched his hand back, he stood swiftly and backed away.

The cloak levitated inches off the bed, the open book he had been touching moments before snapped shut, the red heart faded though the cover of the book leaving a pale pink outline of its former self. The cloak glisten and trembled for a moment and Snape swore he felt it wink at him and then dropped down to the bed, the golden glow was gone just as fast as it had appeared.

The only change was to the now closed book, a tiny heart shape lock appeared on the binding, locking the book shut along with all of its contents and love.

Snape stood silently staring at the cloak for along time. His heart pounding in his chest, his head hurting, he couldn't take his eyes off the cloak, off the lock… he had been locked out.

He didn't know what to make of that… it scared him, that he was sure of but he didn't know why. Had he truly expected Potter to wait forever? Had he expected the boy to simply stay even though he had refused to speak to him of such things?

With a trembling hand Snape picked up the cloak, he raised a hand but did not trace the book like he had intended to, instead he picked up his own cloak and stared at the still open book with a pink heart. But his cloak was also different now, a small gold key hung suspended in the center of his heart… a bit obvious but there it was.

He was the key.

Snape released a heavy sigh, twisting up his face. He hated stuff like this. "The talk"…there was always a talk and now he had to have it with Potter. Stupid boy….Stupid foolish Gryffindor…

Only there was no talk.

TBC

Review please….

Seemed like a nice cruel place to tell you this is the last chapter. Only an epilogue remains.