Warnings: Discussion of character deaths, dark magic, lots of feels.

Summary: Severus survived the battle, and now it's up to Harry to bring him up to speed. Harry hopes they can start a friendship along the way.

Notes: I can't remember if having the students at Hogwarts during the final year cast Cruciatus at each other as punishment was in canon or another fanfic, so my apologies if I've stepped on someone's toes. It wasn't intentional.


CHAPTER 2

Making up for Lost Time

Severus opened his eyes to a wash of white. Merlin, had he really died? Was this … the veil? He swallowed—and realised instantly what a mistake that was. His throat felt as though it was on fire. Horror turned his blood cold. No—surely he wouldn't have to suffer such a grievous injury for all eternity?

And yet, perhaps it was just, considering all the pain he had caused in his life. A life cut brutally short—dear Merlin, he was only thirty-eight! But he had wasted the majority of his too-short years on darkness and deception and pain. He would never even know if it had been worth it, because he hadn't lived long enough to see the end of the war.

He closed his eyes and let the tears fall. What did it matter if he wept here? No one would judge him. No one would care.

"You're awake! And … oh shite. Snape, you're okay. It's okay."

A familiar voice spoke beside his head and a gentle hand wiped his tears away.

"Hey, ssh. I know you must be terrified, but you're going to be okay."

Severus snapped his eyes open again and struggled to gain his bearings. Slowly, a pair of nervous emerald eyes came into focus above his face.

"H-Ha…."

"Don't try to talk." Harry gave him a sad smile. "Your voice box is injured, so you need to rest your voice for at least one more day."

Rest his voice? But if he couldn't ask questions, how in the bloody hell was he to know what had happened to him?

Harry slipped his hand into Severus'. "Is this all right? I … I thought you might need some comfort. Er … just blink once for yes or twice for no."

Severus rolled his eyes and squeezed Harry's fingers. The young man chuckled.

"Guess that works too. Um, I'm guessing your throat's probably dry, sir, but you can't swallow right now, so Madame Pomfrey taught me a spell to help you get water when you woke up. But if you don't want me, I can ask her to help instead. Er, should I get her?"

So Severus was in the Hospital Wing. But how? He had thought for certain—there was no way he could have survived an attack like that, was there? And why wasn't the school out to kill him?

"Professor?"

Severus squeezed Harry's hand and hoped he understood.

"You trust me?"

He responded with another squeeze and a blink.

"Oh. That's … good." Harry smiled and tentatively pointed his wand at Severus' neck. "Aquafaubis."

A blue light shone on the tip of his wand and Severus sighed at the instant relief of cool water against his parched throat, just enough to coat the sides. It seemed to be traveling down his oesophagus on its own, so he simply lay still and let the magic work. Harry stared at his watch and held his wand steady.

"Finite Incantatem." Harry pocketed his wand. "She said not to let it run longer than thirty seconds or you might feel sick. Um, are you okay?"

Severus gave him a wry look.

Harry laughed. "Well, okay as in not going to vomit this moment."

Severus rolled his eyes again.

"I'll take that as an 'obviously, you dunderhead.'"

Severus huffed a silent laugh.

Harry grinned. "Good to know I can make you smile." He sighed and traced his thumb across Severus' knuckles. "Er, listen, sir, I know you're probably wondering how you pulled through, but … uh, I think it's best to save that question for a couple of days." The boy flushed. "Trust me, you're going to want your voice back for that conversation."

And Harry did not appear to be looking forward to it. Severus arched an eyebrow. What had the boy done?

Harry's flush deepened and he looked away. "Er … so anyway, you probably already guessed it but you're in a secret room at the hospital wing of Hogwarts. I cleared you with the staff here first—well, I guess they all heard me when I basically told Voldemort you were Dumbledore's man all along.

Severus blinked twice and shook his head slightly. It hurt like hell, so he grimaced and reckoned he'd best stick to the blinking system for now.

Harry frowned. "You weren't?"

One blink.

Harry shivered. "But your memories. I … you … you weren't his?"

Severus scowled and blinked twice ferociously.

"Well, thank Merlin for that. But then … who?"

Severus paused, then tentatively squeezed Harry's hand. "You," he mouthed.

A pink blush spread over the boy's cheeks. "M-me? Really?"

Severus didn't blink, but he did give the boy a hesitant smile.

"But … I don't understand. You told Dumbledore—Mum's Patronus … oh. You couldn't tell him the truth, could you, sir? He'd have used it against you."

Severus gave a slow blink.

"Damn." Harry flopped into his chair and winced. "Ow."

Severus frowned and looked him over. Was the boy hurt?

"Yeah," Harry said with a groan, rubbing his back. "You're not the only one they put through the wringer two days ago."

Severus blinked, but it was out of sheer confusion. He'd been asleep for over a day? And come to think of it ….

He beckoned Harry close and touched his scar with a gentle fingertip. "H-how?"

Harry shook his head. "Be silent, Professor. Please. Madame Pomfrey said if you don't rest your voice, you might damage it permanently."

Severus blanched and blinked once.

"Good. I … are you asking how I lived?"

He gave Harry another blink.

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Well, to be honest, I'm not sure myself. I did what you told me. Once I … I'd seen your memories, I made sure you'd be taken care of, and then I … I slipped away under my cloak. The battle was quiet then. They had called a retreat to give us time to g-gather our … our dead."

He covered his face with a shaking hand and held back a sob by what appeared to be sheer force of will.

"S-sorry. You probably don't want me blubbering in here."

Severus held Harry's hand tighter and gave him with what he hoped was an empathetic expression. He hadn't used it in a while, so he supposed it was likely out of practise.

Harry took in a shuddering breath. "I … I'll get back to that in a moment. You probably want to know anyway, don't you?"

Severus blinked once.

"Right. That's … that's going to be r-really hard, but I'll try."

Severus could do nothing but sweep his thumb over Harry's knuckles and try to reassure the boy through his touch that he would support him as best as he was able.

Harry gave him a sad smile. "Thanks. It … it's nice to know you really do care."

Severus rubbed Harry's knuckles and gave him a slight nod. Even that much hurt.

Harry must have seen Severus grimace. "Are you in pain at all? Other than your throat—it's just going to hurt for a while, I'm afraid. Her venom was horrid, even with … um … we'll talk about that part later though. So … pain?"

Severus blinked twice. It was nothing he couldn't bear.

"Oh, good. Madame Pomfrey said your potions wouldn't wear off for another hour or so, but I just wanted to make sure."

Severus raised an eyebrow. The boy was stalling then. He tapped the back of Harry's hand with his thumb and wished he had a more efficient means of communication.

Harry seemed to understand anyway. He winced and lowered his head to stare at their joined hands.

"Right. Well, um, back to the battle. I managed to sneak away, but before I left, I told Neville to kill the snake. I … I didn't think I'd be able to come back to do it myself, you know."

Severus rubbed Harry's fingers and blinked once.

"Yeah. Well, after talking to Neville, I pretended I had something to do to prepare for fighting Riddle and got away again. He was worried, you know. Riddle had given us an hour armistice, but really he wanted me to turn myself in. Time was almost up then, but I got away from Neville in the end, and then … I did it. I went to turn myself in to the Death Eaters. I …."

He trailed off and laid his head on Severus' hand, shaking hard. "It was the most terrible thing—I've faced basilisks and Death Eaters and dragons, but walking stone-cold to my own death … no hope of survival … no way to escape—I was petrified."

The boy trembled with silent tears, and Severus freed his hand long enough to pet Harry's hair. He only had the strength for two passes, but it was enough to soothe the boy. Harry sat up with a brittle smile and took Severus' hand again.

"T-thanks." He blew out a harsh breath and picked up the threads of his tale once more. "I don't think I'd have been able to do it, if I hadn't had the … the …." He frowned and looked to the doorway. "The thing Dumbledore got himself cursed for. Er, just the … rock part of it. Did you know what it really was?"

Severus frowned and blinked slowly. Merlin, he hoped Harry hadn't gotten himself hooked on that thing. It was a danger to the mind.

"I thought you might," Harry said with a wry smile. "You were always ten steps ahead of everyone else. Well, except the meddling old coot himself."

Severus had to work to suppress a snort at hearing Albus referred to in such a manner. Generally, he insisted on respect for the old man, but how many times had he said the exact same thing himself? And if anyone had earned the right to tell Albus to piss off, he and Harry had. No one had done more for the old codger's plan than they had. No one else had given their very lives for it, to be sure. Oh, people had died, certainly, and their sacrifice was indeed noble, but no one had lived and breathed and died for the war but Albus, Harry, and Severus.

Well, and the ex-Dark Lord, but that was his own fault.

"Well, anyway," Harry continued, "I had it with me—the, er … the rock. And I used it to … talk to those who … who had gone before me. They walked with me through the forest and stayed with me until the end." He shuddered. "You've no idea how glad I was that you weren't among them."

Severus squeezed Harry's hand. He was glad too.

"So … I walked into the clearing—oh, by the way, I left the … the thing behind. Dropped it and kicked some dirt over it. I won't be going back for it or telling anyone where or what it is."

Severus gave him an approving look and a blink, relief coursing through him. He should have known Harry would have been too intelligent to fall prey to such a trap.

"Yeah. It's too dangerous to keep." Harry sighed. "And I'd have too much temptation. So many I've loved …."

Severus rubbed Harry's fingers until he could move on.

Harry cleared his throat, though his voice was still thick when he spoke again. "Well, once I'd hid the stone, I walked straight into the clearing. I let him hit me with the killing curse. Only … instead of dying, I woke up at some kind of white version of Kings Cross Station."

Severus' eyebrows flew up his forehead. 'King's Cross Station? What on earth?'

Harry snorted. "Yeah, that's exactly what I thought."

Severus gave his silent laugh again.

"The really strange thing was—Dumbledore was there. He told me lots of things, mainly that he was proud of me. And that I could go back if I wanted to or … go on. He told me a lot of things I didn't really understand. But when it came down to it, I knew my friends were on the other side, still fighting the bastard. I knew if I didn't come back and finish him, if I died—well, they'd spent years thinking I was the only one who could finish him. If I hadn't come back, the others mightn't have had the courage to try. So … it left me with one choice really."

He leaned back in his chair and ruffled his hair. "When I woke up, I realised Riddle had been knocked out at the same time, but was coming to. I stayed still and pretended to be dead. The next thing I know, Narcissa Malfoy is hovering over me, checking my pulse. She whispered to me, asking if Draco was alive, and I told her I'd saved his life. So she saved mine. She pretended I was dead too."

Severus clutched his hand. Lucius Malfoy had always been too self-involved to save, but Narcissa and Draco had never been beyond help. It was … good to know Harry had seen it. He gave the boy a questioning, nervous look he hoped Harry would understand.

"The Malfoys?"

Severus squeezed his hand. The boy was quicker than he'd given him credit for.

"Yeah, they're okay. Well, I imagine Lucius is getting cosy with the inside of Azkaban, but Narcissa and Draco should be all right."

Severus sighed—carefully, so as not to hurt his throat—and rubbed Harry's hand in thanks.

"You're welcome. Anyway, when he thought I was dead, Riddle ordered Hagrid to carry me back to the castle. Gods, the poor man was a mess, but somehow we made it back. And while Neville distracted Riddle by offing his snake—oh that was bloody brilliant, by the way. Neville challenged Riddle head-on—I almost fainted again from shock. I mean, this is Neville we're talking about.

"But he was brilliant. Riddle forced him into the Sorting Hat and set it on fire, and I was terrified I'd have to watch my friend burn to death, but Nev just kind of …." Harry did a little shimmy to demonstrate. "—Wriggled loose and pulled the bloody Sword of Gryffindor out of the hat!" Harry snickered. "Bet that traitor Griphook is having kittens right about now."

Severus gave him a bemused look.

"That's definitely a story for later," said a sheepish Harry. "Not my proudest moment, so you'll want to yell at me. Although, this time it was Hermione who came up with the absolutely brilliant idea of riding a ruddy dragon—oh. Er … oops?"

Severus gave him a dark look that promised pain and much yelling as soon as he was up to it.

"M-moving on," Harry said with a nervous laugh, "er, as soon as Neville got the sword, he sliced right through Nagini like she was made of butter. It was bloody amazing."

Severus gave him a bitter smile. Longbottom had shown his mettle over the past year—by fighting back against Severus and the Carrows. Severus would never look at the boy the same way again. Nor would Neville ever fear him. He was glad of that, but he only wished it hadn't come at so high a price.

Harry rubbed Severus' hand and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Severus' breath caught at the touch.

"He … Neville knows about you now," Harry said in a soft voice. "The DA—as soon as the battle was over, I gathered them up and told them of your true alliances. Between Neville and I, we worked it out that your 'punishments' were really battle training and a way to keep them protected while appearing to be the enemy. Making the Gryffindors cast the Cruciatus at each other as a means of punishment—that was a stroke of genius, sir. The Carrows thought you were torturing them, but you and I both know those curses don't work unless you mean them."

Severus smiled sadly and swept his thumb along Harry's palm.

"Anyway, once I explained that to them, they started to see that you were doing the best you could with what you had to protect them. I can't say all of them will be … thrilled to see you again, but they understand. They know you didn't want to hurt them and tried to avoid it as much as you possibly could."

Severus' throat tightened—Merlin, that hurt—and tears formed under his lashes. He held them back by sheer force of will, wishing he had been able to do more. Gods, he had hurt children. Tortured them. And … and Harry was saying he had done right by them?

No. If those children never had to see him again, it would be too soon.

"It's all right, sir," Harry murmured. "It's all right. I know you feel terrible about it, but you did the best you could. They lived, and without you at the head of the school, I don't think they would have."

Severus gave him a thin smile. Living wasn't the same as thriving, and Harry knew that better than anyone.

"Well, I guess I should get back to the story anyway. So, once Neville killed the snake, it was pandemonium. After that, everyone found their bollocks and decided to challenge Riddle too. Bellatrix went after Ginny, but Mrs. Weasley went after her. And it was brilliant! She can duel like mad—why did no one tell me?" He sighed and let his shoulders slump. "The bitch got away in the end, though. I really thought Mrs. Weasley had her."

Severus gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. Bellatrix had been one of the most lethal Death Eaters, all the more dangerous because one never knew what to expect from her. Still, the aurors would find her eventually. Harry had done his part.

Harry shook himself and went on. "Well, when I saw Mum Weasley fighting for her life, I'd had enough of playing dead. So I got up and demanded Riddle face me. He ran his mouth first, as always, but you should've seen him when I let him know he had no more 'spare bits' scattered about and this time, we met each other as mortals. Well, I couldn't quite say it like that, not with so many Death Eaters watching—Merlin forbid one of them had caught on."

Severus shuddered. Merlin forbid indeed.

"Yeah, could you imagine Bellatrix with a split soul? She's mad as is!" Harry shivered. "No thank you. One Riddle is bad enough. So, like I said, I couldn't risk saying anything about souls or artefacts or anything in case the others worked it out, but Dumbledore had told me in the train station that the only way to heal a soul from a horcrux split was to feel honest-to-goodness remorse. When I advised Riddle to try for some, I thought his eyes would pop out."

Severus gave Harry a wicked grin.

"Thought you'd like that," Harry said with a laugh. "See, it's not only snakes who can be cunning!"

Severus gave his silent laugh in response.

"It didn't work, though." Harry shook his head. "After seeing what's left of his soul in the train station, I … I had half-hoped he would try. But the man was beyond saving. Instead, he assumed I couldn't have possibly found all of his 'treasures' and brushed it aside. So then, I threatened him with wandlore."

Severus frowned. Wandlore?

"You know how he thought you were the master of … of the deadliest hallow and that you had to die for it?"

Severus gave Harry a slight nod. The Elder Wand. Hadn't he been its master?

"Well, it turns out, all you have to do is disarm someone. And Malfoy had disarmed Dumbledore before you … before …."

Severus winced.

"Sorry, sir. I know you didn't want to."

Overcome by grief, Severus laced his fingers with Harry's and held the boy's hand tight. Harry laid his free hand atop of Severus' and traced the man's knuckles, sending a slight shiver down his spine. How could such a simple touch feel like lightning?

At least it pulled him out of his grief long enough to motion Harry on.

Harry nodded, but kept holding Severus' hand with both of his. "Well, since Malfoy had disarmed Dumbledore, he became the master of the wand. But I disarmed him on my way to destroy the Ravenclaw 'treasure' and that made me the master of the wand. I told Voldemort that. And the idiot still tried to kill me with my own wand. I disarmed him—and both spells hit Riddle, killing him and sending both wands back to me."

Harry shook his head. "I got rid of that too, once I'd fixed my own wand with it. I never wanted that kind of power."

Severus gave him a warm smile and wished he had the capability to hug Harry, to tell him how proud he was of him.

Well, maybe he'd risk a little damage to his voice. Harry deserved to know.

"W-well done," he whispered.

Harry blinked hard and hugged Severus on his own. "Thank you. I … I tried."

Severus could not move, could not embrace Harry while he was so weak, so he pressed a light kiss to the boy's cheek where it was brushing his face. Harry gasped and went rigid, and Severus winced.

"Oh." Harry relaxed and hugged Severus tighter, still being gentle with him. "I didn't expect that, but thank you."

Severus sighed and turned into Harry's cheek. It felt safe, warm, and damned good to be so held. If anyone deserved a thank you, it was Harry.

Harry moved back and wiped his eyes. "I … I guess a part of me always wanted that."

Severus frowned. Wanted what?

"Your acceptance. I never understood why your hatred hurt so much when I was used to being treated like scum, but it did." A couple of tears slipped past his control and Harry jerked his hand across his face. "I … it feels … I needed to feel that. I needed … damn it." He turned away and buried his face in his hand. "S-sorry, sir."

Severus just wrapped his fingers around the hand he could reach and held Harry until he calmed.

"T-thanks for that." Harry took a deep breath and sat beside Severus again. "Well, that's how the battle went, I guess. It's not much of an answer as to why I didn't die in the forest, but then, I don't have much of one myself. Maybe we can talk to Professor Dumbledore's portrait once you're recovered and see if he'll be any more forthcoming."

Severus snorted and immediately wished he hadn't. Shite, it was like swallowing lava. Tears leaked from his eyes and his fists clenched with agony. Harry winced in sympathy.

"Hurts?"

Severus blinked once and pressed Harry's hand. 'Hurts' was an understatement, to be sure.

Harry looked at his watch and cringed. "Merlin, I've been talking to you for almost an hour. I'll get Madame Pomfrey and your potions. She said they'll make you sleepy though, so we'll talk more later, okay? You need rest to heal."

Severus squeezed Harry's fingers and gave him a pained smile. He mouthed, "Thank you."

Harry smiled and patted his hand before he walked away.


Later that evening, the boy returned, much to Severus' relief. He was going mad in here with nothing but the same four walls and the sound of his own thoughts to keep him company. And not even pleasant thoughts. More like nightmares. He was miserable by the time Harry reappeared.

Then boy came smiling and bearing a stack of magazines and—oh, thank Merlin—Severus' own bathrobe, and his terrible mood dissipated.

Severus' eyes narrowed. Wait a moment. How exactly had Harry gotten into his quarters?

Harry gave him a sheepish smile. "Er … the Headmaster's office doesn't lock to me any longer. I'm not sure why—it still keeps everyone else out. Anyway I just went in to pick up these things for you. I tried not to disturb anything but what I was bringing to you. Your newest potions journals and your nightclothes, I mean. I know I hate hospital robes, and I figured you probably do too." He gave Severus a frightened look. "I just wanted to help. Is it … was I wrong?"

Severus sighed and lifted his hand towards Harry. The boy sighed in relief and took hold of his fingers.

"Thanks. I'll just let you change then. Er … with a spell, you know." Harry flushed. "But, um, Madame Pomfrey said you have to leave the top three buttons on the shirt open, okay? Otherwise it might hurt your neck again."

Severus gave him a curt nod and, with a flick of his wand, which he had retrieved from the nightstand earlier, the hospital robes flowed from his body and folded themselves neatly on the side table. Another flick, and his pyjamas and robe melded themselves into place with three buttons open, as suggested.

Harry boggled. "Dear gods!" His voice was high pitched and wobbly. "Warn a man next time, will you? I'd have turned around if you'd asked."

Severus raised an eyebrow. Just how was he to warn anyone when he couldn't speak? He had thought his wand would have been warning enough.

Harry gave a weak laugh. "You could've … I dunno …." He made a spinning gesture with his hand.

Severus smirked and beckoned the boy instead. Still blushing, Harry folded himself into the chair next to Severus' bed.

"Thank you," Severus mouthed. He really did hate hospital robes, and he had been going 'stir-crazy,' so to speak. Harry's forethought and care was welcome, if he did go about giving it like a bull in a china shop. Breaking into his quarters to get his bathrobe. Merlin.

Harry beamed and offered Severus the topmost journal, but Severus shook his head. He would rather have answers than more essays on various potioneering techniques. Merlin help him, none of the other potions masters had a clue anyway.

"You want to talk, huh?"

Severus nodded.

"All right, I guess." Harry shuddered. "I suppose you want the list then?"

Severus squeezed Harry's hand, then, through a series of aborted attempts, fruitless gestures, and an eventual attempt at telepathic Legilimency—which succeeded, to his surprise— he managed to communicate to Harry that he wanted to sit.

Damn. If he'd known he'd be able to talk to Harry through Legilimency, even in short bursts, he'd have used that method sooner. He had thought it an extremely rare phenomenon. Maybe once he was feeling better, he'd research it more.

Before making any move to help him to sit, Harry laid a hand on Severus' shoulder and gave him a nervous look. "Um, sir, if you want to sit, I would … I'd have to hold you up. Is that … okay?"

Severus closed his eyes. Okay? The only time he had ever felt whole was when Harry had held him in the shack, and then he had been moments away from death. The idea of feeling his embrace while he was mostly able to participate was … gods. It was heady. Even though it would only last long enough for Harry to rearrange the pillows, the idea left him giddy inside.

Giddy? Dear gods. What was wrong with him? Maybe it was only because he had come so close to death. That kind of experience was bound to change him, right?

With a sigh, Severus gave Harry a careful nod and a small smile.

Harry's voice was a little shaky. "I … I'm not sure you understand completely. Madame Pomfrey explained to me earlier that you weren't to sit up without help. You see, your neck isn't healed, Professor. It … the venom weakened your muscles. So, um, I can cast a spell to keep your neck steady, but since it's no guarantee …."

He looked down and ruffled up his hair. "If you want to sit up, you would … you'd have to let me support you. I'd have to hold you … the entire time." He dragged his toe across the floor and flushed to his ears. "And you would have to make damn sure you keep your head back against me. Um, otherwise, you might tear your wounds open again because your neck isn't strong enough to hold your head up yet without support."

Heat flushed Severus' face. He would have to spend the entire conversation propped up against Harry? Leaning back against him and held in his arms? Merlin. He had to admit, a part of him longed for that kind of sustained contact, but his emotions were so strange lately. Would he be able to endure it without making a fool of himself?

Harry took his hesitation as refusal and gave him a sad smile. "Yeah, I thought as much. I could maybe fix your pillows a bit so you're at least not lying flat. Would that do?"

Severus sighed and looked into Harry's eyes. [Sit with me, Harry.]

Harry flushed bright red and gave him a shy smile. "R-really? Merlin."

Severus lifted an arm towards him. At least he'd gotten that much strength back, if his neck was apparently still weak.

Harry flushed all over and smiled hesitantly. "Oh. All right. Give me a moment to …."

He flicked his wand and muttered an incantation, and stiff bandaging wrapped around Severus' neck and held his head steady. It was uncomfortable, but not so miserable as lying on his back for days at a stretch.

"There. Those aren't perfect, sir, so try not to test them too much, okay?"

Harry lay beside him and flushed bright red. He trembled a little as he slid an arm carefully behind Severus' shoulders and guided the older man's head to rest against his shoulder. Once the boy had him in position, he sat carefully, supporting Severus against his body and cradling his head in a strong hand. He settled Severus so he lay back against Harry's chest, with his head supported by the wall and Harry's shoulders.

"Now, will that do?"

Severus gently turned Harry's face so the boy was looking at him. It put them in too-close proximity, but how else was he to communicate with his back to the boy?

[I need to see you to speak.]

Harry blushed and gave him a wry smile. "A-all right. Just don't slip, okay? Much closer and you'll be kissing me."

Severus' ears flamed, and across from him, Harry looked shocked at himself.

"Oh Merlin." Harry buried his crimson face in a shaking hand. "F-forget I said that. Really forget it."

Severus couldn't quite hold back a silent laugh. 'Merlin indeed, Harry.'

Severus just patted Harry's chest and waited until the man felt brave enough to look at him sans-hand again.

[Tell me who died.]

It was blunt and brutal, but Severus only had enough power to communicate like this a few words at a time.

Harry winced. "I … I don't know everyone yet, but …." He took a shuddering breath. "Over fifty. The Light forces lost … lost twenty."

Severus closed his eyes in grief, letting Harry's soft, breaking voice wash over him. He was glad for Harry's embrace right now, however necessary. He needed the warmth, and so did Harry.

"Of those I know …." Harry's breath hitched, and Severus slipped his hand into the young man's, holding it tight. "Lavender Brown. Colin Creevey. F-Fred Weasley. Tonks. And … and R-Remus." Harry sobbed and turned his face into Severus' hair. "They named me his godfather—Teddy. How am I to … I don't know the first thing about babies. And gods, he'll have to g-grow up without his parents like I did … and … I just, I …."

Severus turned so he could wrap his arm around Harry and held him as he wept.

"S-sorry," Harry gasped out. "I just … I loved them so much."

Severus closed his eyes and held on to Harry, offering him shelter and taking it for himself. He hoped it helped Harry to have his support in dark times—for once.


When Harry came in the next day, Snape was awake again and reading one of the journals Harry had nicked from the man's chambers. Merlin, but he did look better in his midnight blue pyjamas than those godsawful hospital robes. Harry hoped he felt better too.

A blush heated his face. Snape might feel better—right up until the time Harry told him how he'd managed to survive. Then Harry would be lucky if the man didn't throw him out on his ear—in pieces.

Still, even if Snape went back to hating him again—and Harry really hoped he didn't—it was worth it. He'd saved the man's life at least, so no matter what consequences he had to face for his actions, at least he'd know Snape was alive.

Snape gave him a half-smile as he came in and greeted him in a quiet voice. "Poppy has informed me that I am able to speak once more, so long as I do not overdo it. So, will you tell me how I am alive now?"

Harry winced. "Yeah, but just … just don't shout at me, all right? I might deserve it, but I don't want you to hurt yourself more because of me. Okay?"

Snape's dark eyes narrowed. "Harry. What did you do?"

Harry gave a nervous laugh and ruffled up his hair. "Saved your life?"

"How? And at what cost?"

Harry cringed. "Er … the last one, well, I don't know yet."

Snape reeled back. "You don't know?"

"Er … no. Not really." Harry sighed and sat beside the man, dropping the rucksack he'd brought along at his feet. "Look, you can read me the riot act in a minute and I'll let you—if anyone deserves to have a run at me, it's you. But just know, even if you hate me again, I won't regret it. It was the right thing to do, and I don't really care if it was stupid, so long as you're okay."

Snape groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That Gryffindor sense of honour will get you killed one day, you know?"

Harry snorted. "You're lecturing me about a Gryffindor sense of honour? Forgive me, sir, but if it wasn't for that incredible cunning of yours, I'd have thought you'd been missorted."

Snape gave him a half-hearted glare. "I, the archetypal Slytherin, am now a missort? Preposterous."

"Yes, you, the archetypal Slytherin with a heart of gold, honour for miles, and courage against nightmares that would set all but the bravest crying home to their mums. So yes, I could see it."

Severus gave a low chuckle. "I suppose I'll have to take that as a compliment."

Harry grinned. "It was meant as one." He sighed and gripped Severus' hand. "This time I need comfort. I'm scared I'll lose you all over again and I … I don't want to. I fought for you and … and I … is it all right?"

Snape squeezed his hand. "Very well." He sighed. "Just tell me how bad it is, Harry. I am fully aware that there is no possible way you could have brought me back from an injury like that with anything but dark magic. So?"

Harry grimaced. "All right. I … I remembered seeing a spell … on our treasure hunt, and when I realised you were almost dead and I had no other way to save you, I went for it. It worked. And I don't appear to be hurt or out of my mind or anything, so I don't know if maybe it's because you still had a heartbeat when I cast it, but at least for now, we seem to have avoided any negative repercussions."

"Harry. I can see that on my own. The incantation?"

Harry gulped. "O-Oblatus Salva Anima."

Severus frowned and translated. "Offering save soul. Hmm. Offering of what?"

Harry shrugged. "All I know is that the spellbook said that if I used it after your heart stopped, the consequences would be dire. So I made damn sure it was still beating before I cast it."

"Spellbook? What book, precisely? I have never heard of such a spell, and I have heard of many."

Harry blanched. "I was afraid you would ask that." His hands shaking, he cast a warding charm on the door and carefully extracted the evil book from his rucksack. "T-that one."

Severus paled at the book in his hands. "Harry … the dark aura of this is so thick, I can feel it curdling the air around me."

Harry nodded and wrapped his arms around his chest. "It's … it's the book about … about the treasures. How to m-make them, I mean."

Snape went white as a sheet. "You healed me with a spell from—oh dear Merlin." He opened the book and scanned through the contents. "Horcruxes, slave bindings, runic alterations, magic draining … oh gods. Harry, this isn't a book about the treasures. It's a book on soul magic."

Harry froze. "S-soul magic?"

"Yes. So it follows that, if you used a spell from this book, the cost may well affect your soul. That is why it is called the 'darkest arts.' No one but a madman would break his own soul apart to use monstrosities like these!"

Harry gasped and reeled into his knees, feeling sick. "I b-broke my soul?"

Severus sighed and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps not. Have you had any unusual dreams?"

"No worse than the typical nightmares."

"Anyone who had lived through what you have would have nightmares. There is nothing unusual in that. What about strange voices?"

Harry paled. "No. Nothing."

"Good. And urges you can't explain?"

Harry flushed. "Well, I … I have wanted to be close to you, but I get the feeling that's just because we were enemies so long, and now we're not. I want to get to know you. The real you. I want to know who saved my life so many times and why. I don't think that's abnormal."

Snape squeezed Harry's shoulder. "It isn't. I find myself feeling the same way." He moved back and closed his eyes. "The only other test I can contrive—have you felt any desire to hurt others? A dark healing spell might cause the opposite effect in its caster, perhaps."

Harry's stomach roiled. "Gods no. No, not at all. I want to help undo the damage I've already done, sir, not add more to it."

Snape sighed and patted Harry's shoulder. "Then I think it is safe to say our souls are at least relatively safe. Perhaps you are correct and the cost only applied if you used it on a person who had already passed beyond life. That might be dark enough on its own to garner such a spell a place in a book as evil as this one. I hope so at least. But please do tell me if you experience any strange symptoms in the future." He gave the book back to Harry. "Keep that well-hidden for now, but as soon as I am free to leave, I would like to … borrow that."

"Keep it if you want. It's vile." Harry gave him a wry smile. "Though I guess it did save your life, so I can't hate it too much."

"Hmm." Snape fixed Harry with a sharp look. "And now that we've determined that you are in no immediate danger of breaking apart." His glare turned icy-cold. "Did you learn nothing about using dark magic you are unfamiliar with the first time?"

Harry winced. "Yes. But I knew what this was supposed to do."

"Not the cost."

"I was prepared to pay it."

"That is even more ludicrous!" Snape grabbed Harry's chin. "Look at me. I am a used-up, dark, broken-down old man. Do not risk your life for me."

Harry glared back. "I can't make that promise, and I won't. And for gods sakes, you're, what, thirty-seven?"

"Thirty-eight," Snape snapped and dropped Harry's face.

"So? You're not even forty. You're a wizard, sir. You're still really young by our terms. And the rest of that is just bollocks to begin with."

"Language, Mister Potter. I am still headmaster." He sighed. "Though I … I do not wish to be. I never did."

"Then let it go, Professor. You've done your time at Hogwarts. Maybe now is your chance to see the world and find out what you should've been doing all along."

A spark of hope lit in Snape's dark eyes. "See the world. That does sound … I think I would like that." He gave Harry an assessing glance. "I think I am not the only one who has earned that right."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, maybe it's time, huh?" He settled next to Snape again. "I actually wanted to go on a trip this summer. Visit some of the places I've never been before I go to the academy."

"So it's to the aurors with you then?"

Harry nodded and squared his shoulders. "At the battle, I won by pure luck. I didn't know what to do to help you. I couldn't fight like the others. I really wasn't anything special at all. If not for my soul, for mum's soul, or whatever special thing was keeping me here, well, I'd have never have even made it out of the forest." He dragged his knees to his chest. "I don't want to live through that again, watching people die left and right and not knowing how to help them or how to fight off the attackers. So … yeah, I'm going to auror training. And, you know, I could really use a hand up in potions when I get back from that trip, that is … if you're interested."

Snape frowned. "You could have any private tutor you wished. Why would you ask me, when it is I who destroyed your chances in the subject to begin with?"

"Well, because I know you're the best." Harry squeezed his hand. "And because I'd like to think, when you're not actively hating me, maybe lessons with you wouldn't be so bad. I learned a lot from the Prince, didn't I?"

"Too much," said Snape with a dark look.

Harry laughed wryly. "True enough. But do you think you might want to? I'd pay you of course. And … well, I'd like the chance to get to know the real you. Where better to start than your favourite things?"

Snape sighed. "I must be mad, but I'll do it." His eyes softened. "I will not accept your pay, though. I … had I taught you properly the first time, there would be no need for tutoring."

Harry grinned. "Well, at least let me make you dinner or something."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I am to trust the cooking of a mediocre potions student?"

Harry snorted. "I've had a lot more practise with a range, sir."

Snape winced. "Your relatives. I would not be so cruel as to—"

"Oh, tosh. I like cooking. Well, when I'm allowed to eat it, that is."

Snape chuckled. "Oh, if I am to be subjected to your cooking catastrophes, I will take great pleasure in taking you down with me, so to speak."

Harry laughed. "It's a deal then." He smiled and rubbed Snape's fingers. "Thank you. Really. For everything, sir. Even when you had to hurt yourself to protect me, you did. And I'm honestly grateful."

Snape's eyes went wide and glinted in the light. If Harry hadn't known better, he thought he might have moved the man to tears. But Snape just blinked and gave him a sad smile.

"Mister Potter—Harry, I think you will be the only person to understand that."

Harry gave him a devilish grin. "Well, that's what saving the world is for, isn't it? I pulled all their sorry arses out of the fire, so now they've got to listen to me."

Snape couldn't quite hold back a bark of laughter. "The entire wizarding world cowed by an eighteen-year-old firebrand. Now that, Mister Potter, is something I would like to see."

Harry smiled. "You're going to. I promise, sir. You're going to."

Snape nodded and squeezed Harry's hand. "I am looking forward to it."