Harry fades in and out of consciousness a few times. He wakes once when he feels a sharp pain in his nose, but then falls fitfully back to sleep. He wakes a little bit later because his stomach growls uncomfortably. He considers getting up but all of his limbs are tense and sore and he can barely move.
Most surprising to Harry is the fact that Draco hasn't come to get him up yet. Maybe he feels bad, Harry thinks, he's letting me sleep it off.
Finally, Harry's eyes fully open and he doesn't have the instant urge to close them again.
Blinking wearily he tries to get a grip on where he is. It's not his bedroom, and he doesn't have his glasses on.
He looks to his left, there's a sleeping form in a chair pulled up close to the side of the bed. Harry can just barely discern that it must be Snape.
Oh. I forgot. The end of the night comes rushing back to Harry. Everything after the... rape... had been forgotten until just now.
Harry sits up, quickly, then groans in pain. There's a sharp stabbing in his ribcage that makes him huff and desperately try to catch his breath.
Snape rouses with a start and quickly passes Harry his glasses from the nightstand.
Harry tries to reach for the glasses but moving his arm makes a bolt of pain shoot through his ribs again and he falls back against the pillows. He breathes heavily again, sweat beads on his forehead.
Snape stands over Harry and gently puts his glasses on his nose. Snape then presses the back of his hand against Harry's forehead.
"Potter, are you awake?" Snape sits back in the chair and pulls it even closer to the bed.
Harry's eyes are squeezed shut as he breathes through the pain and nods. "Yea-yeah." He gasps and clutches at the ribs that hurt.
Finally, Harry opens his eyes and looks up at Snape. The man has deep bags under his eyes, and his hair is unkempt; tied hastily at the nape of his neck. Most shocking of all, he's wearing a white tee shirt and red lounge pants. Harry can momentarily forget about the pain in his ribs at the shock of realizing that Professor Snape does, in fact, own pajamas.
"Does it hurt here?" Snape puts his hand very gently over Harry's own. "I couldn't ascertain any internal injuries you might have, let me take care of this."
Harry nods and takes his hand away. Snape incants something and touches his wand to the ribs. Harry hates the feeling of ribs being snapped back into place, and he hates even more that he's starting to get used to it.
It takes a few minutes for Harry's breathing to return to normal. "Thanks," he finally forces out.
"We should really take you to St. Mungo's, the bruising on your back- I don't know what else could be wrong."
Harry shakes his head. "I'm alright, nothing else feels out of place at least."
They make eye contact, Snape has a deep sadness in his eyes. "Do you care to tell me why you showed up at my door at midnight, covered in blood?"
Harry squeezes his eyes shut again. He pulls his glasses off to rub at his eyes but flinches when his hand brushes over his nose, it hurts.
"Be careful, Mr. Potter, I was able to heal the break, but I am not a medi-wizard, it's still bruised." He warns and Harry nods. He realizes Snape must have fixed his glasses too when he slides them back on his nose.
They don't say anything, Snape is just studying Harry while Harry looks around the room. He knows that Snape asked him a question, he just doesn't know how to answer it. Snape doesn't pry.
Snape's bedroom is plain but well-decorated. It's all dark wood with a surprising amount of red. The duvet that Harry is currently half under is almost a Gryffindor red, but the sheets are a silvery Slytherin gray.
Finally, Snape stands up and goes to the tall armoire against the wall. He pulls another pair of pajama pants out. "I didn't want to remove your pants, but they're probably beyond saving. Put these on, you'll be more comfortable."
Harry takes the offered clothing and Snape steps out of the room.
The doors of the Armoire are large mirrors set into beautifully engraved wood. He struggles to stand in front of them. His blue jeans are still on. They have a substantial amount of blood. Harry feels immeasurable guilt for being in Snape's bed so dirty.
There's dark purple bruising on his left ribs, but it's not a huge bruise. Both of his eyes are starting to turn black, but they're not swelled, for which Harry is grateful. His nose is red, but it looks like the break had just given him the black eyes. His lower lip is slightly swollen, just where his tooth had broken it open.
The worst of the damage, at least cosmetically, is the thin red line that runs down his sternum from being burned when Draco's wand singed his shirt apart. There are five or six small blisters, but it looks as though Snape has put some kind of ointment on them and they don't hurt terribly bad.
This he can deal with. He won't lie and say it's been any worse than this, but from the front, Harry can almost pretend that it isn't so bad.
Slowly he peels his jeans off of his legs. The blood seeped through in some places pulls at his leg hair.
There's a knock at the door and Harry jumps with a small yelp that he doesn't mean to let out.
"Sorry, I just wanted to tell you that you can shower, it's the door by the dresser." Snape's voice comes clearly through the door.
Harry has blood matted in his hair, so he decides he probably should.
He stands in front of the mirror in only his black briefs. Harry turns, slowly, until his back is to it, then cranes his head over his shoulder.
In his mid back is a bruise, about the size of a goofball, but darker and more aggressive than the one on his front. He can see the beginnings of the bruises on his butt peeking over the waistband of his underwear and has to quickly look away.
Harry's eyes fill with tears. He wants to shower, but taking his underwear off, seeing it, would make it real.
Harry lets out a pained sob and squats down, wrapping his arms around his knees. He buries his head into his knees.
Another knock at the door. "Potter?"
Harry opens his mouth to respond but another cry comes out of him instead.
"Harry, can I come in?"
He nods, then realizes Snape can't see him. "Yes," he finally forces out.
Snape finds Harry in front of the dresser, crouched down in a ball. He immediately sinks to Harry's level, getting down on his knees in front of the man. Snape isn't sure why he asked to come in. He doesn't know what to do. He's a potions professor, and there isn't a student at Hogwarts who would call him emotionally intelligent. He knows that Harry needs to go to St. Mungo's, this is way over Snape's head.
But here Harry is, crying in his bedroom. Harry had come to him last night, so Snape will try his best, even if he's completely out of his element.
Snape sits next to Harry and doesn't say anything, just sits with him as the boy cries. He catches sight of Harry's back in the mirror. He saw the bruise in the middle last night since Harry had come with no shirt, but he hadn't seen the bruises that start on his lower back.
Snape's mouth goes dry and he sucks his lips into his mouth for a moment, fretting. He'd considered this last night but hoped that he wasn't right. The best-case scenario was that Harry got into the world's worst bar fight at the Leaky Cauldron. The worst case was, well, whatever this is.
"'time 'sit?" Hary finally mumbles. Snape is glad he's finally spoken up, his legs are starting to go numb from sitting on the floor. He notices that Harry's knees are red and scuffed.
"The time? It's just after nine in the morning."
Harry looks around for a moment, slightly panicked. Draco doesn't know where I am. "I have to go home," he finally says.
"You're in bad shape, I don't think it would be wise to leave just yet. Is there someone I could call for you?" Snape offers. Snape knows that Harry is married to his godson, but something spurs him not to say the name
Someone... to call? Would Draco even come to get me? Does he care?
"Draco doesn't know where I am," Harry sighs and finally uncurls himself. He leans back against the dresser. The carved wood digs into his back uncomfortably, but he doesn't move.
"Should I send an owl? I could Floo to your home?" Snape offers.
Harry looks at Snape with piercing green eyes. He doesn't know, Harry thinks. How would he know? How would it be anyone's first thought that Draco would do this to me? The silence between them is palpable.
"Draco..." Harry trails off. Should he say it? He doesn't know. What happens if I say it? Does Snape take me to St. Mungo's and contact the Aurors? Ron? "Sir, I can't go to St. Mungo's, and I can't go to the Aurors." He says, making it clear to Snape.
"Okay?" Snape responds, confused by the sudden topic change.
"Draco, he, um," Harry doesn't know what to say. He takes a deep breath, then another, then another quicker after that one. "He-" Harry can't get the words out.
Snape closes his eyes and squeezes them, a pained expression crosses his face. "I understand, why don't you take a shower, and we'll figure out where to go from there."
Harry nods and is able to stand up again. He pointedly avoids looking in the mirror and brings Snape's lounge pants with him into the bathroom.
The door closes and Snape finally has a few minutes to decompress the night. He'd gotten barely any sleep and only just drifted off an hour or so before Harry woke up for good.
Why me? Snape thinks to himself as he hears the water turn on. Snape knows that Lucius' London residence is not too many blocks from here, but doesn't Potter have anyone else he could have gone to? Nevertheless, though their interactions have been short, Snape does like Harry, clearly enough to take care of him.
Snape hasn't really kept up with the savior of the wizarding world since the Prophet calmed down in publishing articles about him. Why is that? Snape doesn't know. The last headline he remembers reading was Harry and Draco's wedding. He tries to think past that but... Nothing.
While the shower runs Snape makes himself busy. His home isn't glamorous, but he doesn't need anything exceptional when he spends nine months of the year at Hogwarts. Hogwarts... Minerva never heard back from Potter about the DADA position. Snape had been surprised when Minerva offered it, he just assumed Potter had become an Auror, like Ron Weasley.
In fact, I seem to distinctly remember Potter was an Auror. Snape doesn't know what to make of that.
He shifts his attention to making some sort of breakfast. Harry is shockingly thin, the lack of sustenance is probably why the bruising had come out so bad.
Snape isn't the world's best cook but he manages eggs and toast, probably both made with too much butter for a healthy person, but he wants Harry to get all he can.
He sets the plates on the small table in his kitchen and then waits.
The food starts to grow cold as Harry takes longer in the shower. Thirty minutes pass, then forty.
Snape starts to think about the fact that he has a very damaged celebrity in his house who nobody knows the whereabouts of. He frets a little bit, worried about Harry in the shower. Snape wonders if he should just force the man to the hospital.
Finally, the water turns off and Snape lets out a sigh of relief. He didn't know what he thought was wrong, but he was starting to get bothered.
Still, though, Harry doesn't come out of the room.
An hour after getting into the shower, breakfast long cold, Harry finally emerges from Snape's bedroom. He has the pajama pants string tied probably as tight as it goes. Snape's favorite black towel around his shoulders, cocooning his body from view.
"I'm sorry, professor, do you have a shirt I could borrow?" Harry asks. He looks a little younger now, with wet, curly black hair plastered to his face. Snape forgets how old Harry is, 19 or 20, he's not sure.
"Of course," Snape says, simply, and walks to the bedroom. He opens his dresser and pulls out a light sweater, Harry is shivering.
Harry quickly pulls the shirt on, trying to get covered as soon as possible.
Snape notices next that Harry has stripped the bed. He raises an eyebrow at the pile of bed linens. Harry looks sheepish. "I was going to clean them but I didn't know where you keep your cleaning supplies. I'm sorry I got them dirty."
Even more confused, Snape waves his wand and the linens are clean and reset on the bed. "Don't apologize, I'm just glad you're alright."
"I forgot my wand," Harry adds hastily.
It seems like there's something more to the story, but Snape doesn't press it.
"I made food," Snape says, unsure what else to say.
"You made food for me?" Harry looks up at him, drowning in the man's large sweater and pants. He looks sweet, if not for the double black eyes. The fact that Snape made food for Harry seems to make the younger man very happy.
Snape just nods and casts a warming spell on both of their plates. "I could brew something, for the bruises, if you want." Snape offers.
Harry cringes at that a little as he sits down. Snape curses himself for saying the wrong thing. Harry shakes his head. "That's alright, thank you, though, sir."
It's off-putting how polite Harry is being. Stripping my bed? Thank you? I don't think he called me sir so much when he was my student.
Harry eats slowly, seeming to savor every bite. Snape eats while brewing them both a cup of tea. It's almost eleven now. Snape's glad it's a Saturday, he doesn't have anywhere to be today, though he does have some brewing that he should probably get done. It's August 1st, he has to start fulfilling Madame Pomfrey's orders for the new school year. A month seems like a lot of time, but Pomfrey likes to take advantage of his services.
Snape places the tea in front of Harry who looks up at him with wonder in his eyes. Harry puts his hand over his mouth, still chewing, and says "fank yew," through a bite.
When they're both done with their food and sitting at the small table, Snape doesn't know how to break through the silence. There are things they need to talk about, but Snape doesn't want to traumatize him all over again.
"Potter, I was wondering, what your plan might be." He leaves it at that.
The cogs in Harry's mind turn for a few minutes as he thinks. Harry's eyes look distant and unfocused as he processes. "I, well, maybe, sir, I could stay here for the rest of the day? And maybe one more night? I'll sleep on the couch." He offers.
"Of course, my home is open to you, as long as you need."
"And then I'll go back," Harry says. It sounds like Harry is talking to himself, resolving himself, but Snape is aghast nonetheless.
"What? You don't mean that," he counters.
Harry looks up at Snape confused, almost innocent. His brows are furrowed and sad. "I've got to go back. Draco just needs time to cool off." He explains.
"No," Snape says instantly. He feels protective of Harry. He was nervous that Harry had decided to show up on his doorstep out of everyone in London, but he feels a desire to keep the boy safe. He's just so small and broken. "You can't go back."
Harry hangs his head and doesn't say anything.
"I'm sorry," Harry says.
"For what?"
"I don't know. I'm just sorry." Harry's voice sounds wet, but he just sniffles once and bites back the tears.
It's silent for another few minutes.
"I have some brewing I need to do today, would you like to assist me?"
Harry lights up a little bit. He doesn't manage a full smile, but it's a start.
They spend the next few hours in amicable companionship. Harry isn't a terrible potions assistant and is catching on fast. He opens up when Snape asks him about the potion he'd been told to brew and Snape is impressed with the amount of knowledge Harry has gained on ingredients just in the past week, even if he hasn't been able to brew.
Snape isn't the biggest fan of having other people around when he's brewing. He doesn't have many friends. Mainly just Minverva. He isn't entirely sure if Poppy is his friend or just puts up with him when she needs potions.
The last real friend he had was Lily, of course, and it's not lost on Snape that he has her son in his brewing room right now and is getting along with him.
More than that, Snape is enjoying Harry's company.
Once the man is able to focus his attention on something other than the incident, he is a good conversationalist.
They brew together for almost the entire day, Snape directing Harry to grab ingredients and chop or dice things just as he'd done the other day. Hary is eager to help and seems to be proud of himself when they fill the last bottle.
"Who are these potions for?" Harry asks.
"Madame Pomfrey, I supply most of Hogwart's potions."
"Has Professor McGonagall found a new DADA professor?" Harry is sitting on the couch now, relaxing. Potions making can be strenuous and Harry got barely any sleep last night.
Snape shakes his head. "Not yet." He isn't sure whether to mention the offer from Minerva or not, so he holds his tongue.
Harry nods and has a faraway look in his eyes.
"Sir?" Harry asks, after a few moments.
"You don't have to call me that, anymore, you know." Is all Snape responds with.
Harry shakes his head quickly as the thought distresses him. "No, I... prefer to." He doesn't elaborate. "When I leave tomorrow, you're not going to..." Harry trails off again. Snape tries to be patient. "Well, you're not going to make me do anything, right?"
Snape puzzles his brows at Harry.
"No. I may urge you to make a certain choice, but, I can't stop you from doing anything." Snape's voice is sad, but to cut through the air of tension he adds, "You are Harry Potter, I'm not sure I can make you do much of anything."
Harry smiles again, but it's his saddest smile yet. "Yeah." He says, quietly.
"I'm really sorry, professor, but I'm very tired, do you think that maybe we could finish up here soon?"
Snape nods immediately and sets to work cleaning his cauldron, Harry helps clean as much as he can but it's much more efficient with Snape's magic.
They go back upstairs finally. It's late evening but still light outside. Harry sits down on the couch with a small noise, probably from hitting one of his bruises.
Snape pulls a potion out of one of his cupboards and hands it to Harry who looks at it questioningly. "It's a nutrition potion. I want you to at least have something in your body."
"I thought you weren't supposed to replace meals with these," Harry says, even as he drinks it and shudders at the slightly bitter taste.
"That's in normal cases."
Harry sets the bottle on the kitchen counter and looks at the couch.
"You'll sleep in my bed again," Snape curses himself because the way he said it makes Harry's eyes widen, very slightly. "Alone, I mean, I'll sleep on the couch."
Harry shakes his head quickly. "No, no, I've already put you out so much. The couch is fine for me."
"Harry," Snape says the boy's first name for the second time today which makes Harry immediately look up at him. "Please, take the bed."
He seems to understand and nods.
Snape is also glad that Harry takes the bedroom because he's not sure he could manage to go to sleep at 7 in the evening.
As soon as Harry shuts the bedroom door, Snape grabs his decanter of fire whiskey, a crystal glass, and takes a seat on his couch. Perhaps with the help of a substance, he can attempt to process the past 24 hours.