My God! You lot are a right bunch of nit picking sons of….i'm joking, im joking holds up hands.

Anyway, quite a few peoples reviews were tilted along the lines of 'Magic stupid!', and I though I should explain myself. Yes I'm perfectly aware that as wizards they can use magic, I'm even aware that it's a magic castle that could probably put itself out. But then where would all the fun be. Please remember that Harry can't actually remember anything from the last seven years, he's in a bit of turmoil at the moment, and besides, if he'd stopped for a second to think of a really cool spell that would put out the fire then it would have been a bloody short chapter.

I'm trying to write things from a more human pint of view, too many fics depend on magic to carry through the story but I depend on my characters, I want to create situations to put them in so that they can realise the nature of their relationships.

And besides, who here has been in a fire? Because I can tell you for damn sure that the first thing you think of is getting out, and getting the people you love out. You don't have time to stop and think about things, about how can I possibly counter this all encompassing torrent of flames. Also, I'm pretty sure that the rules for the muggle world would apply a lot to the wizarding one as well. You don't go into fires, you let the experts sort it out, I'm pretty sure that albus would have been making sure that everyone kept to this rule (apart from sev and harry, coz they're idiots).

Okay, rant over, and by the way, ive had some fantastic reviews, even you nitpickers, you are all so bloody fantastic that if you were in the room, well, we'd all be kinda cosy coz I've had a few, but I'd give each and every one of you a hug and a jelly bean (just one, I don't have too many to go around!)

It was strange, Harry considered, how St Mungo's was very much like an ordinary hospital. It had the same smell, the same kind of staff who seemed perpetually stressed out and with not enough time to devote fully to one person. They still used machines to monitor people, although they must have used magic somehow, Harry knew that from the amount of times Hermione had told him that no electrical item can work within a magical field. That and the fact that Dean had once tried to use his gameboy in the dorms to no avail.

It had been three days, three long and painful days while he was hooked up to some sort of ventilator that infused a potion into the air he brethed so that his lungs would heal. He'd been told they'd done their best, but there was some irreparable damage that could effect him in later lift, apparently the alveoli in his lungs had glossed due to the extreme heat and as a result he had a lesser surface area for oxygen to be absorbed. Harry was just thankful to be alive.

He'd been visited many times over the past couple of days, both Albus and Minerva had been by, telling him about the castle. Apparently damage to the actual structure was minimal, only broken windows and beams, but it was the content that took the brunt. It seemed that most of Ravenclaw tower and the surrounding corridors had taken all the damage. The cause was somewhat dubious, Albus had talked to all the students who had been present the night of the party, and most could recall setting off some of the indoor fireworks, but the explosives in question had been bought from a back street dealer in hogsmead, and instead of getting the usual wet start, no heat versions that they were described as being, the poor students got the real deal.

A couple of students had to be taken in for smoke inhalation but had been released quickly, some of their parents had come along to find Harry and thank him for his efforts, many getting quite tearful and offering him rewards, all of which he politely refused. Right now, he was just grateful to be allowed out of bed, but he wasn't allowed to go far, and he always found that no matter where he went there was always a pair of eyes watching him.

He'd come across this room about half an hour ago, it's curtains drawn and the air a little warm. It's occupant was asleep, and appeared as though he would be for some time. He lay on his front, propped by pillows a little to one side making it easier to breathe. Such a position left his back exposed, although right now it was covered, layers of white bandages crisscrossed over the raw expanse, blood still seeping through. A machine beeped quietly in the corner as it measured out a dose of something and pushed it along a thin tube that ran between the bars on the bed, around the loop taped to his wrist and under the skin.

Harry stood in the doorframe and watched Severus breath, following the deep methodical pattern himself. He couldn't help the twisting, gnawing feeling in his gut as he let his eyes trace the damage. Most of the minor damage had been taken care of, the light burns would have been healed in amoment just like his had been. But the deeper, more lasting damage required much more. They relied on a persons ability to heal, there was only so much magic that could be forced onto one's body before it has effects of it's own. Harry had cornered a nurse earlier as she passed, and she had explained that they'd had to put him in a forced coma as it would allow him a better chance at a full recovery. She placed a hand consolingly on his arm and told him not to worry, but it hadn't helped. Instead he kept his vigil, losing track of the minutes that ticked by.

Eventually a nurse came by to remind him that, while he was allowed to be out of bed, he should really be resting right now. Harry conceded, his legs did feel a little weak and his chest still ached a bit from the rapid healing. So he allowed himself to be tucked into bed, and the nurse asked if he would like anything to drink. Harry asked for a glass of water and drank it slowly when it came. He curled up on his side, looking out the window at the crowded London skyline and allowed his thoughts to run along on their miserable tracks.

It did all seem to happening to him at the moment. But no matter how hard he tried to feel sorry for himself, an agonizing wave of guilt struck him, and the image of the occupant of that darkened room filled hi mind. Why did he come back for him? It was a question Harry had thought a thousand times over. Everybody knew, you don't go into a fire, not for anybody. Harry had known he was being stupid the moment he'd done it, but his head had been foggy and his damned batter nature had once again thrown his reason to the side and given it a good, swift kicking. If it hadn't been for his bravado then Severus wouldn't be lying in pain down the hall. If it hadn't been for his bravado then who knows how many students could have died.

Minerva had admonished him several times when she'd seen him, told him time and time again that during a school emergency the wards are dropped and the services called, that there was no need for him to risk his own life. But Harry had forgotten that, figured that when he'd joined the staff it would have been a routine thing to be told, but it was all gone. He wondered what other lifesaving knowledge he'd known, simple things and rules that had been so easily discarded from his mind. He was beginning to wonder if he was a bit of a liability to the staff and students of Hogwarts.

But still, Severus had come back for him.

Harry wasn't sure how that made him feel, in fact, Harry had an inkling of how that made him feel and the very concept of it terrified him. He couldn't even begin to describe the feelings he'd had when Severus appeared behind him in the fire, of course, he'd been relieved, but the utter fear that had raced through his veins at the sight of him disappearing through those flames left him questioning himself.

He was the man at the door, he knew it now, felt it in his bones. The knowledge of it had been creeping up on Harry, some weird disquieting emotion that played at the back of his mind whenever he would see the other man. How could he have possibly known what it had meant.

Harry curled up tighter into a ball. What the hell was he going to do? Clearly his 'former' self had spent enough time in Snape's company to develop these kind of feelings, but now, Harry had no knowledge of all those evenings spent talking and drinking, just these echoes lingering on the edge of thought. And what about Severus? Did he feel anything for Harry? Could that explain his self sacrificial actions in the castle. Had they talked about this, Severus hadn't mentioned anything to Harry, but why would he. Had they confesed all to each other. Harry sucked in a shuddering breath, feeling like he was on the edge of tears. What if Severus didn't feel the same. Was Harry doomed to walk the path of unrequited love, sure they were friends, best friends apparently, but could the boundaries ever be crossed.

And what would he do if his assumptions were right, what if Severus felt for Harry what Harry was so sure he felt for Severus, then what! Harry didn't know if he was comfortable with that idea. He essentially felt for someone who he had no knowledge of. It was an odd concept, as though he had some sort of responsibility.

There was a knock at the door and Harry peered over his shoulder to see who it was. Hermione peeked round the door, an assortment of balloons clattering in the doorway.

"Hey." She said softly, shutting the door quietly behind her. "I'm so sorry that I couldn't come any earlier, there were exams to invigilate and dissertation proposal meetings, I'm so sorry." She winced as though she expected Harry to shout at her.

"Don't worry about it." He smiled back, "Now, if I'd been dying then that would have been a different matter." He shifted around in the covers as he sat up. "Any word from Ron?"

Hermione lowered her eyes to the ground, shaking her head. "no, but it's not uncommon for treaties to go on like this, especially out in the unknown lands." Harry remembered the unknown lands, parts of the old USSR that were too far north for people to inhabit. He really felt for Ron at that moment.

"But anyway, how are you?" she asked, helping herself to a chair and tying the balloons to the end of his bed.

"They say I can go tomorrow, as soon as the doctors been round, whenever that is. Albus wants me to go back to the school, but I feel like I need a little time on my own to get my head round this, so I might just go to my house in London, get myself reacquainted with home."

"That sounds like a good idea, mind you, make sure you take it easy, I mean, you've been through quite a bit these past few weeks."

"Yes, I know." Harry rolled his eyes at her, like he hadn't heard it from everybody else! "I just really need some time."

Hermione looked at him, at the circles under his eyes and the tiredness on his face. "Harry?" he looked at her, eyes shot red. "Are you okay?" it wasn't one of those face value questions, which people ask to be polite. She really wanted to know.

"I don't know." He said and shook his head. "Everythings a bit of a mess at the moment, and I don't know what to do."

"Why? What's the matter?" She looked at him with concern.

"I don't know, I don't think I'm comfortable talking about it, because I don't even know how I feel about it myself."

Hermione gave a short laugh. "Oh, Harry! Please, how long have we been friends. You know you can tell me anything. I won't say a word, not even to Niall, Harry I promise." She looked sincere, and Harry had never doubted her trust before.

"It's awkward." He said, as though trying to dissuade her. But she just tilted her head to show she was listening. He breathed hard through his nose. "I think, I mean… I know now, who …I have feelings for." He looked at his hands twisted in the bed sheet, just saying those words aloud gave them new meaning, made it real. Whe he looked up Hermione was beaming at him.

"You remembered more?" she asked happily.

"No." Harry noticed her frown, "I know because…I see them, and I feel…Oh God, Hermione. It's just one huge mess." He rubbed his hands hard over his face.

She leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. "Harry, what is it?"

"I don't know what to do, I don't know how to handle this." He let out a growl.

"Harry, calm down," She soothed, "Tell me, what is it that's bothering you."

Harry calmed a little, forcing himself not to get worked up. He let his hands fall back down into the covers. "Severus." He whispered. There was a moment of silence.

"I don't follow." Hermione said, but Harry could tell by the look in her eye that she was formulating her own theories pretty quickly.

"It was him," he said softly, "He was the guy at the door, it was him that I was waiting for. I didn't even realise till the other day, when I was in that fire. And he was there, and my God Hermione, I have never been so frightened in my life, not for me, for him. I'm not even sure I understood it at the time, but when he left, and I couldn't see him coming back, I just…I can't even begin to describe it." He stared numbly at the pattern of the weave on the blanket. "And now he's here, because he came back for me, and the doctors won't even tell me if he'll make a full recovery."

"Harry, you didn't ask for him to come for you, so you can't blame yourself. And as for your feelings for him, to be honest Harry, I can't say I'm surprised." Harry looked at her questioningly. "I mean, you guys are, pretty much the same person." She shrugged, "I had always wondered, I asked you a couple times but you told me that you were just friends and you seemed genuinely just that. But Harry, if you're worrying about how he may feel for you then I don't think you have a problem, I mean, he went into a fire to get you!" she waved her hand at this apparent evidence.

"Because he's my friend," Harry retorted, "I'd do just the same for you or Ron, doesn't mean I love you."

"But Harry, this is Severus!" Hermione stressed, "He has friends, and then he has you." She looked at him in sympathy, which irked him a little.

"Even so," he changed the course, "I don't even know what to do about it. Sometimes, I'll see him and all I'll see is Snape, you know. I don't know this man, I mean I know him, but…ugh, it's just so strange. To see someone only a few weeks ago you hated, and who hated you, and then find that whenever you see them, your stomache does this stupid little pirouette and back flip combination that earns a good nine points from the self deprecation fairy." He tossed his covers aside and got out of bed, pacing to the window. "I can't even say what I feel. My old self knows how to feel, it knows our history together, I don't! I have no context to put this in, it's not gradual for me." He thudded his head against the window in frustration and glared at the street below at all the people walking past a busy hospital without even knowing it was there.

Hermione was at his side, leaning against the wall and looking at him. "I wish I could understand Harry, really I do. I can't even begin to consider how this must be for you, you've never mentioned any of this before, which makes me believe that you havn't said anything to him either, but Harry, this man cares for you, I can see it even if you can't. maybe you should talk to him, explain how you feel and see what he has to say, I don't know him as well as you, but even I know he's not going to be insensitive."

Harry rolled his head against the window, eyes closed and headache forming. How could he possibly talk to Severus about this, he'd be mortified, he'd probably tell Harry that the blow to the head was more serious than he thought.

But he came back for him.

And that one little thought made his stomach lurch a little higher, his heart beat a little faster. Maybe.

"Look, why don't you get back into bed," Hermione said, "Working yourself up like this can't do you any good. I've got the prophet in my bag, you can do appalingly at the crossword like you always do if you like?" she smiled at him, Harry smiled weakly back at her, still feeling lost but on steadier ground he got into bed, Hermione fetched him a glass of water and sheaved through the paper, picking out the right page and smoothing it out on table for Harry.

"Right," he said, taking the pencil handed to him, "three down, eleven letters, 'hero', starting which 'H'," He tapped the pencil to his chin for a moment before he noticed Hermion giggling. He frowned at her as she turned the paper her way and jotted down the letters, turning it back Harry noticed she written his name in the spaces allowed. "Oh ha ha." He muttered mutinously and set about with the rest of the crossword. It turned out it was the right answer.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

The next day Harry gathered the few things he had in preparation for going home, the headmaster had said he'd wanted to see him before he left, that he had something to give him. As long as he got here before the doctor did, Harry thought, because he wasn't planning on staying any longer than he needed do. He desperately needed to get away, from everyone and everything and just give himself time to think. He ran the comb through his hair again and perused his reflection in the small mirror above the sink in the corner of his room. He tossed it onto his bed as he sat down and pulled his slipper socks on. He'd never been one for actual slippers, and floors were cold, so he'd had to compromise somewhere.

He went in search of tea.

The door was till open, and the curtains were still drawn and Harry could just make out the soft sound of breathing. He hesitated, looking up the corridor and his route to hot drink satisfaction, and then back in the warm, dark room. He sighed heavily and sidled into the room.

His dressing had been changed and he seemed to be getting better. Harry stood quietly by the bed looking down at him, his mind and his heart at war. He pressed his eyes shut, feeling so desperately miserable. He swallowed hard and faught against the tears he refused to let fall. He wasn't going to let this get to him. He'd spent all last night thinking things over, none of the options coming to any fruition except one. That he would just have to carry on, get to know him again and see how things went from there. It was a crap plan, he was aware, but what else did he have to go on. The only way to stop this pull of sense and madness was to eliminate the side of him that still saw this man as his professor, to learn him all over again. At least then would this strange sense of betrayal to his past vanish.

He let his breath go and focused on watching him breathe, strands of his hair strring from where they had fallen across his face. Carefully Harry reached out and brushed them back, mixing them back in with the others. He felt his fingers linger, just savouring the feather light touch. He watched as Severus' eyes flickered but they didn't open.

"Harry?"

He turned his head slightly and saw Albus out of the corner of his eye. He said nothing. The headmaster joined him at his side. Neither said anything for a while, just watched and wondered. Eventually Albus spoke.

"I went to the ministry." He said quietly, Harry furrowed his brow, but kept his eyes on the bed. "I wanted to get you some things. I think that maybe they could help."

Finally Harry looked at him, and saw that he was holding a box. "It's all the evidence from the final battle." Albus explained, "Maybe it will bring something back."

Harry idly wondered whether it was something he wanted to remember, but decided that it couldn't hurt, it was also something that had peaked his curiosity over the past couple of weeks.

"Maybe I should show you in your room." The headmaster offered.

Harry nodded silently and followed the old man out, pausing slightly to look back just one more time.

Back in his room he watched as the headmaster carefully lifted the lid from the box, and took out the thick folder that lay on top. "This is just the write up, it's basically the transcript of events that were captured on these." He put the folder down on the bed and reached into the box, he pulled out what looked like a prism, a pyramid of dark crystal roughly two inches high. "These were used to film the assault so that the ministry would have evidence enough to convict any Death Eaters who managed to get away."

Harry took it carefully from the headmaster and gently turned it over in his hand. "Don't ask me how they work," Albus said genially, "I'm terrible with technology. All I know is that as soon as the aurors infiltrated the building they scattered these wherever they went, so as to gather as much footage as they could. The ones marked with red stickers mean that they contain evidence that was crucial to the trial, the others weren't as much help, but valuable none the less. There are instructions on how to activate them and view it's contents, its all here in the box, and these" he said, bringing out what looked like the auror badges that they wore. "These were used to record the first stage, when you went in first, there was no way of gaining any live footage so we had to rely on this for our cue and any damning evidence." He placed it back among the others that were there and turned to face Harry fully. "I know you want to have some time to yourself, but just remember that you can always come up to the castle, or call me any time, even if you just feel like a talk. I'm never too busy for someone who needs me." He smiled and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder who soaked up the comfort it gave. He thanked the headmaster and put the prism back in the box, replacing the folder and pushing the lid down firmly.

"Now, it's best Harry, if no one else saw that." Albus said, pointing to the box, "strictly speaking it's not supposed to leave the ministry in case some of it gets lost or stolen. But I explained to them the situation and considering they owe you the biggest favour, they agreed to lend it to me. So please be careful."

Harry said that he would and thanked the man again for visiting, which was precisely the moment that the doctor decided to come in. Albus wished him luck and told him he'd be on his way. Harry felt a little sadness at his parting, beginning to feel that he was truly on his own, that after this he would be going into the unknown. But that's what he wanted, wasn't it?

The doctor checked him over thoroughly and made a few more notes in his file, filled out a prescription for him to take home in case he was in any pain, but none the less decreed that he was fit to go. Harry thanked him and the nurses for their care and attention, making one of them blush. And he went about getting changed back into his own clothes and putting his things into a bag. After a brief visit to the pharmacy and a confusing experience with the lift he found himself back on the street and struggling to read the address he had scrawled on the back of an envelope. He wondered if he should get the train, but then realised he didn't know what stop to get off at. Eventually he got a taxi