SATURDAY, 25 JULY
Another glorious summer day dawned on the spell damage ward of St. Mungo's Hospital. Snape awoke feeling uncomfortably warm and with something heavy weighing him down. He looked down at himself only to be greeted with the sight of a head of badly tangled black hair propped on chest and sharp knees digging into the side of his thigh.
And I thought this situation could not get more ridiculous. I am not a goddamned stuffed bear!
Severus sat up, all but shoving the boy away. Harry slid heavily to the mattress and Severus pushed at him until he was laid properly back in his own space. The boy whined softly in his sleep, the only complaint he seemed capable off.
A few minutes later, the boy was shivering, curling further in on himself pathetically. Severus tossed the blanket haphazardly over him, rolling his eyes heavenward. If he could not leave soon, he might very well kill himself.
A healer strode across the room toward him. Smethwyck came behind her.
"Well, it shouldn't be too much longer, I think," she told him.
Smethwyk didn't bother with a greeting but merely took his wand out and gave both Severus and Harry a quick once-over.
"The thread is indeed nearly gone. Should be dissipated entirely by the end of the day, I would guess. I'll drop in this evening and if everything is clear, you can leave, Mr Snape."
Thank Heaven for small mercies , Severus thought. He gave the healer a nod as the man turned to leave. His companion was not following him, though.
"Your son will have to stay through the end of the week at the very least, I'm afraid."
Severus quirked an eyebrow at her. What business of his was it how long the boy stayed? Harry had been living with the Weasleys since he'd left Hogwarts, as far as he knew. At seventeen, he was considered an adult by wizarding law, in any case. He'd be eighteen at the end of the week, and even the Muggles would not regard him as requiring a guardian.
And yet he found himself replying to the witch. "And after that?"
"After that we will lift the charm keeping him asleep and he can go home, but will still need to be more or less confined to bed rest for another week or so. He absolutely should not be allowed to perform any magic, with or without a wand. His innate magic is healing and renewing itself quite well. He's a strong lad, but any real expenditure of magical energy could delay his recovery.
"One of his friends mentioned earlier that he intended to apply for the Auror training program, should the Ministry allow him to do so without exam results, and I'd hate for him to have to delay his plans for another year over something like this."
Severus rubbed at his forehead, trying not get a headache. The healer merely smiled at him and left.
Of course he wants to be an Auror. What else could he possibly desire? He could spend the rest of his life gleefully hounding after every misbegotten dark wizard and sweeping in to rescue every lost soul in the whole of the United Kingdom and perhaps beyond. He'd be ecstatic .
And not a single bloody N.E.W.T. course or exam result to his name. They'd let him in, of course. They'd be fools not to. The P.R. disaster of denying the Boy Who Lived, Blessed Slayer of Voldemort a place in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement... There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that they wouldn't snap him up the moment he asked, consequences be damned. He wondered if they'd even bother to train him properly, or just toss him out into the field on his reputation alone.
Severus glanced down at his son, sleeping fitfully beside him. Severus in truth knew him to be reasonably competent, whatever he'd called the boy in years past, but as he sat there watching him, he could not stop the thought that he looked far younger than his nearly eighteen years, and awfully small.
Can I still keep him alive, Lily? Will you forgive me when I fail?
FRIDAY, 31 JULY
Harry was asleep. He knew he was asleep, and yet he was simultaneously half-aware of his surroundings, somehow. He tried to pull himself fully into the waking world, but could not make his body move. It was terribly frustrating. Fragments of dreams came and went, strange shadows moving about him, vague threats at the edge of his mind.
He groaned, pushing against the strange paralysis that gripped him, forcing himself to move, but managed only mere inches.
Something came close to him, but not a dream's shadow this time. Some one , rather. He was not frightened, now. The presence was familiar and comforting, and felt very much like himself, somehow. He tried to move toward it, forcing his spine to bend somewhat but otherwise failing to engage his stubborn muscles.
He moved, finally, but not under his own power this time. Someone was pulling him closer. He turned his face against the warmth, settling against the steady sound of a heartbeat, and fell back into the warm depths of deep sleep.
"Well, it certainly took you long enough to show up, I know we've sent at least three owls this week. We'll be waking him this evening and if he checks out alright, he can go home."
Severus was sitting in a chair next to Harry's bed as the healer admonished him for not responding after they'd sent him the first letter on Tuesday. They clearly seemed to think he had a far different sort of relationship with Harry than what the reality of it was.
She thinks you're his bloody father , you idiot.
He adjusted his grip on the restless boy, who responded by pushing his head into Severus's chest almost to the point of being painful, the sharp line of his nose pressing against Severus like he could somehow burrow inside like a rabbit if he just tried hard enough.
The table next to Harry's bed was piled high with birthday cards and gifts. The Weasley clan had dropped by earlier in the day, no doubt. "Born as the seventh month dies." Well, if he'd lost track of the date, he was no longer unaware. Not that Harry was particularly in any position to appreciate his friends' well-wishes at the moment. He probably had planned on doing something this day that did not involve clinging to Severus Snape in the middle of some fevered dream on the spell damage ward of St. Mungo's.
"I don't know if Smethwyck bothered to mention this to you earlier, but the spell we used on the two of you has a, er, side-effect, of sorts, on the magical signatures of the participants."
"Which is...?" Severus had no patience for people who did not know how to simply say what they meant and the witch hesitated again at his short tone.
"The spell requires an existing similarity to work at all, but afterward, apparently, the similarity is increased, to the point of the two signatures being nearly indistinguishable. I suspect his, er... sudden clinginess... may be as much his magic recognizing yours as part of itself, as anything else. You could probably use his wand as well as your own now, for example."
Severus closed his eyes and forced himself to breath normally. It was a bizarre concept, and vaguely disturbing. His wand had been in the boy's satchel in a pocket next to Harry's own holly wand, and he had found and retrieved his familiar blackthorn companion before leaving on Saturday, giving no special thought to the matter.
"You just seemed a bit, er, rattled, by his behavior, so I figured I'd mention it. Smethwyck said something earlier about individually keyed wards and magical contracts being affected as well. I don't know why he hasn't talked to you about it yet. For the most part it's not really a big deal for most practical considerations, but it's not the kind of thing that should be completely disregarded either."
Oh, goody , he'd have to re-ward everything he owned if he didn't want Potter able to get into it all. "Not a big deal" my arse, he thought.
Or maybe it doesn't really matter? What do you think he's going to do , exactly? "He doesn't bite."
Severus scowled, this time at himself. Why was he getting so absurdly maudlin all of a sudden? Nearly dying twice in so many weeks had clearly unhinged his mind. He settled for shrugging at the healer, who looked at him for a few more moments, then left.
Severus shifted his sleeping burden enough to get his blackthorn wand out of its sleeve pocket. With a flick, he summoned Harry's satchel from its place under the table piled with his gifts, catching the strap deftly with the pinky and ring fingers of the same hand holding his wand. He stashed his own wand behind an ear like he'd so often barked at students not to do, and balanced the bag on the bed. He rummaged through it until he found the inner pocket holding that famous eleven inch Holly wand with its Phoenix feather that had been a twin of Voldemort's.
He lifted the wand out and gripped it like he would his own. It did not feel entirely like his own, he could sense the different personality within it, but the same familiar warmth spread from his hand to suffuse his body, his magic stirring up within him, preparing itself.
"Wingardium Leviosa"
The bag lifted from the bed, floating at his direction with ease. He curved the wand, and directed the object several feet to the side. There was none of the resistance, none of the sluggishness he'd experienced in the past when using a wand that was not his own. Curious...
Footsteps approached from behind and he lowered the bag to the floor, then released the spell entirely.
"Is there a reason you are playing about with Harry's wand, Severus, or are you just that bored?"
Minerva came to stand at his side, looking down at him with a somewhat pinched expression.
"One of the healers mentioned something to me about that ridiculous spell they used. I was just finding out if there was any validity to the notion."
Minerva's annoyance was replaced with something more like curiosity.
"Well?"
Severus shifted uncomfortably where he sat and Harry pushed against him again in response. He refused to pay any mind to it.
"She wasn't exaggerating. His wand may as well be my own, as far as I can tell. I suspect he could use mine similarly, although obviously he is not in a condition to test the theory and won't be for some time yet."
"What have you tried so far?"
"Just a simple levitation, but there was absolutely no resistance, as I would have expected."
"Hm."
Minerva pulled a coin purse from a pocket and removed the coins before setting it down near Severus.
"See if you can make something of that, then."
Severus smiled and raised an eyebrow at her, meeting the Transfiguration professor's challenge.
He lifted the holly wand and drew it over the purse in a complicated path, wordlessly. A miniature potted cactus with a single yellow blossom tipped to the side on the mattress, spilling a bit of sand. He smirked at Minerva. "Well, perhaps red would have been more attractive."
Minerva picked up the small earthenware pot, brushed the loose sand back into it and set it out of the way on the table with Harry's birthday presents.
"Indeed. I did not know you were quite that proficient in nonverbal transfiguration, Severus. That wand likes you, I think."
"It has merely mistaken me for its own master."
He flicked the pale holly wand to summon the satchel again, and returned the wand to its pocket. He removed his own dark blackthorn wand from its perch behind his ear and sent the bag floating back underneath the side table. He looked down where Harry was pressed against his chest.
"If you wouldn't mind, please firecall the Weasley residence and inform them that Harry will likely be released this evening and they will need to come and collect him."
Minerva looked over the two of them.
"I am sure he won't fall to pieces if you let him go for fifteen minutes, Severus. You know it's really rather touching—"
"Minerva, do not make more of this than what it is, which is very little. He does not even know what he is doing at the moment, or I am certain he would be utterly mortified. He was distressed before I arrived, this has calmed him, for whatever reason, and I do not want that blasted healer coming over here and giving me another lecture. She said something about his magic recognizing mine as part of itself, or some such rot, although given what I have observed with his wand, I suspect she may not be completely barking. At any rate, Wilkins, or whatever her name is... she seems to be under the misapprehension that the boy will be leaving with me tonight, so if you would please get in touch with the Weasleys?"
"The healer is named Watkins, not Wilkins. And I don't see any reason why you couldn't take Harry home, although I suppose you have some excuse handy."
"Watkins said that he will need to be closely watched for another week or two, and confined to bed rest. I am sure Molly Weasley will be thrilled to play nursemaid to him for a while. I have put the house in Cokeworth to rights again but it is hardly a suitable place for him to convalesce. He will be far happier with his friends, I assure you."
"Oh, of course, Severus, you are merely concerned with his happiness and absolutely nothing else, I have no doubt! Well, if you insist, I will go downstairs to the floos and let them know. Before I do, however, have you given any further thought to returning to Hogwarts? You only have two weeks left before we have to make a final decision."
Severus hesitated. He was still rather ambivalent on the whole subject. He needed to work, he needed to support himself. She hadn't been wrong, before – spending his time churning out the sort of potions that sold well enough to profit from was indeed a drudgery, although he'd now be able to do it without difficulty beyond enduring the sheer monotony of it.
Wolfsbane, of course, commanded a high price, usually subsidized by the Ministry for those victims of lycanthropy who could not afford it (which was a majority of them, as they could rarely find employment), but it could not be produced in mass and he could manage only three or four cauldrons' worth at a time without losing control of them and ruining the brew.
"Well, Severus, you are running out of time, for this year at least. If you can't stomach the thought of teaching again, and will not return to the position of Headmaster either, what exactly do you intend to do? Sit in that depressing house every day all by yourself?"
"I'll survive," he told her, not entirely sure of it himself. Or if he even wanted to.
"You'll survive. Well, of course you will survive. But there is a significant difference between 'surviving' and 'living,' Severus. I think you've forgotten this, if you ever learned it to begin with. But Voldemort is dead and the war is over. You, my dear one, are still here. Perhaps it's time for you to recognize that."
He barely restrained himself from snapping at her, aware of other ears around the ward, despite the curtains.
"Well, Severus, do let me know soon. I will go speak to Molly and Arthur about retrieving your son from you, as you apparently still consider him an unwanted burden."
Her last comment stung, somehow, but he pushed the feeling away and scowled at her retreating back.
Harry sat on the edge of the bed, dreadfully tired despite having been unconscious for days. He was happy to be wearing his own clothing once again, at least, although it had been something of a struggle to stay upright long enough to get himself dressed.
Mr and Mrs Weasley were in conversation with Watkins just out of hearing. She'd already informed him, in no uncertain terms, that he should not even so much as touch his wand for another week, which somewhat dampened his mood.
He reached over and picked up one of the cards on the table. Neville had sent him a birthday card covered in pictures of moving golden snitches, darting randomly about the exterior of the card and, once he opened it, all flying over the edge of the card to swarm around the message and signature. He picked up the box of sugar quills that had come with it and pulled one out to chew on the end of it. Not exactly how he'd planned to spend his eighteenth birthday, on the whole.
He had awoken not even an hour ago, held awkwardly in the arms of the very man he'd lent his magic to, but Snape had said nothing at all. He'd let go of Harry almost immediately, standing and backing away from him as though he were something dangerous.
Well, he hadn't really expected gushing gratitude, but some sort of acknowledgment would have been nice, or at least not whatever the hell that reaction had been. Harry looked across the room where the man was hunched over by himself in a chair, staring intently at his own boots, by the looks of it.
Harry set Neville's card back on the table and dug through the bag of tricks from Ron and George. He recognized the extra-strength dungbombs, the fanged frisbee and the multiple varieties of Whiz-Bang fireworks. In the bottom of the bag were a few items of a more... experimental nature. Some he'd seen Ron and George working on before, recognizing the yellowish-brown powder that had produced a large volume of noxious, eye-watering smoke when added to water, chasing him out of the back room of Wheezes many weeks ago, but some of them he would have to ask about before he attempted to handle.
He put the bag aside gently and picked up a wrapped parcel that was clearly a rather thick book. The card tucked under the string was from Hermione, unsurprisingly. She must have finally returned from Australia with her parents while he'd been out of it, then. He ripped the shimmering paper off, revealing the title - A Dance of Shadow and Light: A Guide to New Developments and Advanced Theory and Technique in the Defensive Magical Arts .
He set the heavy book down on the mattress and caught sight of a tiny pot with a small, round prickly cactus bearing a single, tiny yellow flower. Picking it up, he could find no tag or label on it. Perhaps Luna had sent it? He held it up to the lingering evening sunlight streaming in from the windows, smiling at the oddly cheerful little thing.
He looked up and found Snape looking back at him from across the room, his head tilted at an odd angle with an expression he had never seen on the man's face before. If it had been on anybody else, he might have called it thoughtful, or almost a bit sad.
He was distracted before he had time to consider the incongruity. Mr Weasley stepped away from his wife and the healer Watkins, who continued their discussion without him. He came over to Harry with a broad grin on his face and pulled out the scroll that had been sticking out of his back pocket all evening with a flourish, holding it out to Harry.
"I've brought just one more present for you, and I think you'll like this one!"
Harry took the thick roll of parchment from him and unrolled the stack, smoothing it out on his lap for a minute until it stopped trying to curl back up.
Ministry of Magic
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Official Application for Entrance to the Auror Training Program
Autumn 1998
The first page consisted of a dense block of instructions and explanations, cautioning applicants to fill out each portion in its entirety and truthfully, and to read each section carefully.
At the bottom of the page was a bullet list of documents that would need to be attached with the submittal, including a recent head shot, a certified copy of an Apparition license, sealed copies of applicable N.E.W.T.s exam results and a sealed transcript or other documentation proving an adequate magical education ('See Attached List for Recognized Institutions and Courses').
Harry frowned up at Mr. Weasley, who simply continued to grin at him, rocking on his heels slightly.
Thinking he must have missed something, Harry scanned down the page again, then flipped to the next sheet. He found a notation in red script at the very end and suddenly started breathing again.
Applicants able to provide proof of active participation against the forces of the individual widely known as 'Lord Voldemort' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' in the Battle of Hogwarts, occurring at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the Second of May of this year, may waive the requirement for N.E.W.T.s results. Written statements by witnesses present may require additional verification by the Ministry.
A full transcript of all completed magical education courses must still be submitted and will be evaluated on an individual basis. Applicants submitting under this provision will be required to accept additional tutoring in any skills or subjects deemed deficient by the Ministry as a condition of their acceptance and continued participation in the program. Failure to complete required tutoring will result in dismissal.
All exhaustion forgotten, Harry launched himself at Mr Weasley, nearly knocking the man off his feet and hugging him tightly while fighting back tears. Mr Weasley laughed, returning the hug.
"I thought that might cheer you up, Harry. Ron's planning on applying as well, told me last night. We'll get to work on your Apparition license as soon as you're up to it."
Harry finally let go of him as Mrs Weasley came over to them, pulling him into a hug next. Over her shoulder, he saw Snape still sitting alone, watching him from a distance, looking almost like a lost child. Feeling generous in his moment of joy, Harry held the Auror application up, grinning at the man while waving it in the air like a flag of victory.