He awoke in a room he knew. Not a hospital room, but a cozy family bedroom, with quilts, a wardrobe, muggle lamps, and posters of 80's pop culture. A teenage boy's room. Blue hexagonal patterns on the blanket, jogged his memory. He knew this room. He knew the wood paneling, the mirror on the dresser that reflected him in bed, those boxes stored in a corner, this ceiling texture, this worn carpet, all of it. Though he had only been here for a short time during his search for Snape, it was a welcomed sight. This was Ashe's home.
He pushed himself up to take it all in. His injured arm was in a cast and sling, which made things awkward, but he suspected he could heal himself once he cleared his head to try. His arm looked like it was already mending just fine, thanks to some medical attention already given to him.
Just then, the man he'd rescued from Snape's red crystal prison, backed into the room. Ash used his back to push the door open, as his hands carried a tray.
"I thought I heard you waking up. It's too soon to give you anymore pain medication, so I thought I'd get some food into you. That way, if you need more hydrocodone, you'll have a full stomach."
Harry wiped his eyes. "Ash, mate. What happened? What am I doing here?"
Ash grinned as he arranged the tray on a stand and pushed it up to the bed. The stand swiveled, and the tray was able to swing out on Harry's lap.
"My place is a safe-house. I'm off the wizard grid," Ash said cockily. "This place is as good as any. They tell me there's all kinds of magic and security measures around it now. My job is to nurse you two back to health. Gave myself a leave of absence, and I intend to do just that."
Harry stared at him. It must've been weeks since he'd seen him and Ash seemed particularly lively in his apron and rolled ups sleeves of his cardigan. He had energy in his steps and a hum in his voice when he wasn't talking. He poured tea for Harry. "I know you can't eat all this, just do what you can. It'll make Reuse happy."
It was a long moment before Harry trusted himself to speak. Seeing Ash, immediately inundated Harry with the loss of Snape. It must've shown.
"Hey, what'd I say?" Ash asked. "What's with that face?"
Harry couldn't tell him. Had no one told him? "What have they told you about Snape?"
Ash sat down on the bed, looking curious. "Snape? Nothing, what's up with Snape?"
Harry sighed and searched within himself to find the strength. He bit his lips, then said, "He's dead. He didn't make it. I can't believe they dropped me off here, asking this of you, without telling you."
Ash's mouth hung open and he blinked in confusion. "Uh, what makes you think Snape is dead?"
Harry understood. "Oh, there's no body. There's not going to be any evidence. I saw him die."
He died saving me again, he thought.
He wasn't ready to go into the details, but he supposed he'd have to if Ash needed real answers. He waited for Ash's lighthearted expression to turn to sobering grief, but it just wasn't happening. Was that odd expression shock?
Ash finally looked a little concerned, but stood up and backed towards the door. "I'm confused, Harry. If Snape is dead, then who's this?" He opened Harry's door, and across from it, the opposite bedroom door was already open. The wizard lying in there, in green pajamas, eyes closed, arms folded atop royal blue bed sheets, and black hair falling away from his face in a manner so unique to him, was indeed Snape. Harry sat forward, knocking into the tray. He sent it spinning and Ash caught it before it flew off the bed table. He also caught Harry who leapt out of bed.
"Not so fast." It was good that Harry was up, but he needed to take it slow. "Your people patched you up pretty good, but they said no using that arm for another forty-eight hours."
It was as if Harry never heard him and pushed past to Snape's room. There was no greater sight, no greater mystery, than that amazing man laying on his back. He ran to Snape's side and stopped short of touching him. "Snape!"
How had he survived? That whole place broke apart, filled with gases, and had been covered by that weird flow of liquid heat and blue fire. He was tempted to shake him, but Ash stopped him.
"Don't try to wake him. Your people say that he was hit by a curse meant to kill him. They got to him in time, but he's being prevented from waking up too soon. They say he'd be in exquisite pain if he woke up at this stage, so wizards will be treating him over the next few days and gradually bring him out of it slowly. So he won't go into shock. He'll be fully awake in a week. Let him rest."
Harry nodded quickly. "I see." A week without answers? "Did they say how he survived?"
Ash shook his head. "Afraid not. I don't think they know. He… appeared at an apparation juncture, whatever that is. That's all I know. They found him."
Did that mean Lucius was alive as well? Not that he cared, but it crossed his mind. It would be too good to be true, to be lucky enough to have gotten rid of him forever. None of that shit mattered now. They were all alive, his daughter, Draco, Snape. He was literally staring a ninth chance to get his shit together. So he had that conversation to look forward to with Snape. Snape is alive and that was everything at the moment.
Not seeing a chair, Harry didn't want to disturb Snape, so he dropped to his knees instead of sitting on the bedside.
Ash felt awkward standing there, unable to find suitable words for Harry's emotional reunion. The kid was acting so worshipful. He remembered how Snape had put this boy's mutilated body back together with magic he couldn't possibly understand. He recalled Harry's lecture, playing mental movies through his wand that put Snape in the front and center as an adored hero. He felt like he was intruding and backed away with something tugging at his heart.
"I think I'll give you a moment with him," he told Harry. He'd almost used the word, 'privacy,' as Harry's reaction inspired a level of intimacy that was perfectly reasonable under the life and death circumstances between him and Snape. Harry had every right to show such reverence and gratefulness to be alive, to his former teacher. But something stopped him. It was the way Harry scooted on his knees, closer to the bed. It was the strangled effort he used to swallow emotion that wet and matted his lashes. It was his inability to speak for a few seconds, as his voice cracked and the most broken, "Thank you," Ash had ever heard, came out. Harry kept saying it.
Ash couldn't know what all he'd been through in the last few days, but he knew about the trial. He still collected wizarding media, in hopes of keeping up with Harry and Snape when he'd lost contact with them. And he collected the papers and magazines because it was a view onto an exciting world that he wasn't willing to part with, heartbreak or not. If Snape opened his eyes and miraculously said everything it took to make him forgive and fly into his arms without question, Ash would. No matter how angry Snape made him, a difficult Snape was better than none at all, he admitted to himself. But by the look of Harry's devotion, he suspected that this kid might put a kink in that fantasy. And yeah, it was just a fantasy.
He told himself that he didn't have to have any romantic involvement with Snape in order to appreciate having him in his life, but the sight of Harry pouring his love over that prone figure, made him feel the lie that it was. He wanted what Harry had with Snape. An intimate, significant, place in his heart and in his life. Why else would he volunteer to take these two in and help nurse them back to health? His oath as a doctor had nothing to do with it. He wanted to be a part of Snape's life, and if that meant embracing Harry, then he was okay with that. You can't always pick your family, and there's nothing wrong with Harry, though he does get into trouble a lot. But so does Snape, for that matter. But Snape is only protecting Harry, his mind circled on the thought.
So you've fallen for a mother and her grown, troubled son, he equated. He didn't mean any disrespect to Snape, but the analogy helped him settle his mind and make peace with the fact that he'd always loved troubled women and didn't mind a bit of family drama. He was willing to let Snape have his difficult son and be content with being needed whenever his support was needed.
But Harry's moment lasted much longer than a moment, and by the time Ash looked in on them again, Harry seemed less like a son and more like a man in love. It was getting dark out and Ash had earlier switched a lamp on in Snape's room, or Harry would've remained kneeling in the dark. This time, Harry's elbows pressed into the mattress as he held Snape's hand.
After Ash did the dishes, he decided to stop looking in on them for the evening. "If you need anything, just holler for me. I'm around."
Harry smiled and said thanks, before putting Snape back in his dominant focus. Ash closed the door behind him, shaking his head uneasily. What had he gotten himself into again with these two? Didn't matter. Both added an element of magic, mystery, and fascination to his life that he needed. He was hooked.
Inside the room, by the bed, Harry recalled the effort to take Snape's hand. Ash only saw him holding it. He couldn't see that Harry had had to summon his courage to do something he knew his former teacher would never permit. Now that Snape couldn't fight back, couldn't deny him, was his chance to do the most daring thing he could imagine to insist upon Snape that his love for him was a strong as any family bond and that it wasn't going anywhere. How to demonstrate what he felt? Tears weren't enough. So he had reached out and snaked his hand over Snape's, not stopping until their fingers were intertwined by the manipulation of Harry's hand. It felt sacrilege and right all at the same time. Sacrilege, because Snape couldn't defend himself, couldn't draw back, outraged at Harry's display of tenderness and presumptuous pity. But right, because it was all Harry wanted to do. Snape's hands were large and heavy, with warmth returning to the smooth skin. If Snape couldn't put his arms around him, then this was another way to be nestled in that accepting embrace. They had been through so much, apart and yet together on the same path, they deserved this hug, even if it was only just through their hands.
"You're not going to get away from my hug now, sir. Now's my chance to honor you, before you push me away again. And while I have you, I'm not taking my eyes off of you." He squeezed those thick fingers. "This means that you're in my heart and I'm in yours, and there's no getting you out. It's forever. What you've done for me, for my family, I owe you everything and I want to be in your life long enough to make up for everything. Even if it's impossible and I can't. I still want to try."
He suddenly laughed at all he couldn't say. "I'm not leaving your side, old man. Deal with it. And yeah, I'm emotional, I'm crying, I'm snotty. If you had your way, you'd blast me a lovely hygienic six meters away from you at all times. Thank God you're helpless right now. This might be the only chance I ever get to do this."
He didn't just mean the hand holding. He leaned forward and lowered his head onto Snape's chest. Still holding his head, he absorbed the presence, weight, breadth, textures, warmth, and scent of him. He tried to take in all of Snape that he could, in complete reverence for all this wizard meant to him. He whispered, "Thank you," again and again.
In that gratitude, he closed the chapter on one part of his life and opened a new one. Now that Iece and Draco were safe, and Snape was present, he committed his new life to befriending his former teacher. This wizard had done the most for him, and had the most done to him.
Harry reconstructed his new life's mission on the spot. "Draco will take good care of Iece. I can relax in that. While they heal, we can heal. You and I. I will do my best to make it all up to you. I'm not leaving your side until I do."
He stayed like that, with his head on Snape, feeling his chest rise and fall.
*Till next time, my beautiful, lovely, awesome readers! Thank you, thank you, thank you. :-) *
