Beneath the surface

by Memelovescaps

Notes:

Hello dear reader!
I've had this sitting in my laptop for a few months now, the story isn't finished but I have about 110,000 words written as of July 2024. So, I thought I'd start posting, I can't wait for you to read! Let me know what you think, I enjoy reading your comments and insights!
ENJOY!

Chapter 1: Finding Snape

Harry looked up at the ceiling of his Gryffindor dorm. It felt strange, he hadn't been there in almost a year. He stretched in his bed, it was so small that his feet dangled on the footboard. It made him think of all the years he'd spent the night in that same bed, everything that bed had seen, all his growth of the last seven years of his life.

He sat up on the bed, looking around. The dorm was empty, and the sunlight coming from the windows told him it must be quite late into the afternoon. He'd probably spent the entire day sleeping, his body exhausted from the ordeal.

It had taken him a while for him to get to sleep, everything he'd lived in the last twenty-four hours still fresh in his mind.

He jumped from the bed, desirous to see how everyone was fairing. His thoughts went straight to the Weasley family. Last night the entire Wizarding World had taken a big hit. They won, yes, and Voldemort was no more. But at what cost? Many had died, mostly students at Hogwarts, people who had just barely started to live. And Fred. Harry shook his head, not wanting to go down that path.

He went straight to the bathroom, finding that his regular shampoo and gel were there, and he smiled. That must've been Kreacher's doing, the Black house elf who had come back to Hogwarts to help at the battle. Not only help, Harry remembered, but to lead the house-elves from the kitchen. Harry sighed, Kreacher deserved something for his loyalty and bravery, but right now he was too tired to think.

He showered quickly and went downstairs, wondering where he could find his friends. He left the Gryffindor tower, greeting the Fat Lady as he left. As he descended the marble stairs towards the Entrance Hall, his legs automatically skipping when they started moving, he started to see the extent to which Hogwarts had really been under siege. Half of the pictures and frames were destroyed or gone, and there was rubble and big rocks sprawled everywhere. Harry looked left and right, thankfully the bodies had been recuperated but the evidence of the battle was still intact.

Once he was close to the Entrance Hall he looked down. The door of the Great Hall was still in its place, though there were dark marks of curses that had impacted the ancient wood. Here, the bustling was more evident, people coming up and down, walking in or out of the Great Hall in small groups.

Harry steeled his nerves and clenched his fists, willing himself to calm down, before he descended the last set of stairs and looked to his right. The house tables were still against the walls, leaving a big part of the space free in the middle for people to walk in and out easily. Harry watched from the door people conversing with each other. The conversations were hushed; as if no one dared to speak louder than the others.

"'Arry!" said a gruff voice coming from his left.

Harry saw Hagrid, the half-giant, looking at him with a big smile on his face. He was carrying a broom big enough for two men to use, and he was attempting to move the rubble away from the floor.

"'Arry, what are ye doin' 'ere? I thought you was sleepin'!"

"I was, but I've slept long enough, I think," Harry replied, walking over to him, "how is everyone?"

"Well, as well as one can 'xpect," Hagrid said as he left the broom and sat down on the table, making the wood creak under his weight, "if ye're lookin' for Ron, Hermione and the others, they've just gon' outside."

"Thanks, Hagrid, I was looking for them," Harry said.

He then touched Hagrid on his knee, squeezing it.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he said in a whisper, feeling his throat get clogged for some reason.

Hagrid only nodded.

"Me too, 'Arry... me too," Hagrid said, and his voice seemed to break. He blinked, clearing his throat, and he gestured outside with his head, "com' on, go find 'em."

Harry left the Great Hall and walked outside, stepping outside of the castle for the first time since everything had happened.

He started to walk away from the castle, locating the tree where they liked to spend the rare spring and autumn days they could take advantage of the good weather. He quickly located a group of red-heads, and seeing as there was another brown bush with them, headed towards them.

"Hey, guys," Harry said, finding it a bit awkward to talk to them now. After everything.

"Harry!" Hermione said.

And as soon as Hermione's arms wrapped around him, all awkwardness disappeared. Harry squeezed Hermione in his arms, finding relief in seeing that she was okay, that no harm had befallen her.

As soon as Hermione pulled away, Harry locked eyes with Ron. And he could do little else but lunge towards him and wrap him in the biggest hug he could manage. The hug was for everything, for the Horrocruxes hunt, for the arguments, for the grief and pain and loss, and for everything they had lived together.

Harry then looked around. His arms wrapped around Ginny as he looked upon Neville, Luna and, surprisingly, George. Harry looked up at him, and George tried to smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"I know what you're thinking Harry, but you did what you had to do," George said, "and he went with a bang, as he always wanted."

Harry nodded, pressing his lips together, feeling his eyes mist. He swallowed and took one step closer to George, grabbing his forearm and squeezing.

"You were both very brave. I know he's proud of you," Harry said.

He truly didn't know what else to say, but it seemed his words had worked because George's eyes misted and he nodded slowly.

Harry then looked around, his eyes falling onto the Whomping Willow.

And then, he thought of someone.

Someone whose body was probably still there, abandoned. Someone who, without a shadow of a doubt, deserved to be buried with all the honours of a hero.

"I've got to recover Snape," he said, his eyes fixed on the Willow.

Harry felt Hermione's gaze on him.

"I know you saw much more than what you told Him-Voldemort," Hermione said, and Harry nodded at Hermione's usage of the name again, "but was it true?"

Harry nodded again.

"I can't tell you a lot of what I saw… I don't feel comfortable disclosing that, even if he's dead. I may, someday," Harry said, "but… I need to recover him and bury him. With Dumbledore, I think."

"Mate, I get that he could've changed and had worked for our cause in the end, but with Dumbledore? Isn't that a bit much?" Ron asked.

But Luna intervened.

"I knew there was something strange about the Headmaster," Luna said, and Harry noticed she still gave him the title, "I will come with you, Harry, if you need help."

"Thanks, Luna, but erm… I'd rather do this alone if you don't mind," Harry said, "it is… something personal, as it were."

At Luna's nod, Harry began to walk to the Whomping Willow, being hit by a thousand different memories. His twelve-year-old self and Ron crashing into the tree with Mr Weasley's old Ford Anglia. His thirteen-year-old self being hit again and again as Padfoot took Ron inside the hidden cave. Harry shook his head.

Compartmentalize!

He grabbed his wand and whispered a Wingardium Leviosa to a nearby twig. As usual, it pressed the button and the tree stopped moving. He rushed inside, his noise capturing the stale smell of blood and humidity. He started to crawl through the narrow hidden passage to the Shrieking Shack, the same path he'd taken a few hours before.

He already knew what he'd find, but still, the atmosphere was eerie and sombre.

When he arrived he crawled out of the passage into a room. The first thing he noticed was the big puddle of blood on the floor, along with several splotches on the walls.

And then, he saw him. Snape's body, sprawled on the floor, his eyes closed as Harry had closed them. The wound made Harry revolt and he had to look away for a moment to steel himself. The skin around the puncture marks on his neck had turned a sickly shade of mottled green and yellow. The fang punctures were deep, still dripping dark, coagulated blood. The flesh surrounding the wound was marred by angry, inflamed tissue, giving off an acrid, metallic stench that permeated the air.

His posture was sprawled on the floor as he had fallen after Nagini had attacked him, as it had been a few hours prior when he'd died in Harry's arms.

But was it?

No, Harry knew Snape's hands were not by the side of his body when he'd left him there. Feeling his heart beat faster, he crouched beside the body. And his heart all but stopped when he heard what seemed a laboured breathing.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Snape was alive!

But how?

Harry started to rummage through Snape's inner pockets when he saw something shiny out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed the vial and read the cursive and perfectly legible handwriting he'd read in red ink in his papers for the last six years of his education: antivenin.

"I can't bloody believe it!" Harry exclaimed.

And then, he realized with concern that he had no time to lose. Antivenin or not, Snape had lost a massive amount of blood and needed medical attention now.

Harry cast a Mobilicorpus, making sure Snape's body didn't suffer like the last time Lupin had used the same spell on him four years ago. After that, Harry began to crawl back through the passage, as fast as his body allowed him to squeeze through.

When he was outside he rushed towards the castle, Snape's body levitating just a few steps in front of him. He walked the steps two at a time, not really knowing how he didn't trip and fall of how fast he was running. When he arrived at the Hospital Wing corridor, his chest heaving and burning from the effort, he opened the door.

"Madame Pomfrey!" He shouted, "Madame, come quick!"

"Potter, is that you? What's all this racket?" Madame Pomfrey came from behind one of the curtains, probably attending one of her patients.

"Ma'am, he's alive!"

"Alive? Who is alive?" she asked, her eyebrows arching upwards.

Harry then pointed with his head at Snape's form, still levitating beside him.

"Headmaster Snape!" he exclaimed.

The next few minutes were a whirlwind of different things happening at the same time, in which he just observed and let the matron work on her newest patient. She voiced healing charms and spells as she murmured to herself, and Harry could just make out one thing: Snape was still alive.

While Pomfrey worked, Harry was fighting his own personal battle. Why did he want Snape to survive, now that he had found him still alive and clutching at his life, was beyond his understanding. But there was something, something about having found the truth about Snape and who he'd been, the truth about his past with Harry's mother, and the grief of having lost her…

Harry didn't know exactly what, but there was something inside of him that didn't, couldn't let Snape die. Even if he'd been a bastard to him, even if they'd spent the last seven years of their lives loathing each other.

Even then.

He'd gone to the Shrieking Shack willing to recover Snape's body and bury him with Dumbledore, to give him the honours of a fallen hero. And now he was here. Harry shook his head, still amazed at Snape's resourcefulness, even on his deathbed.

After about half an hour of exhausting work, Madame Pomfrey finally let herself sit down on the chair beside Snape's bed. She breathed out, looking out of the window for a second as she draped a cloth around her forehead, and darted her eyes around the room.

"It's done. I've done all I've been able to for him," she explained, "but he's in an induced coma for now."

Harry looked at her.

"Can you explain?"

"He's lost a lot of blood and his system needs to expel the venom, besides the fact that his body needs to rest to recover. The best way is in a coma," Madame Pomfrey explained.

"How long can that take?"

Pomfrey only shrugged and rubbed her forehead tiredly.

"Only time will tell. A few weeks, for sure," Pomfrey said, "let him rest, Potter. For now, he's out of danger."

Harry knew that was his dismissal, but still, he couldn't bring himself to leave. His eyes fell on Snape's pale pallor, his raven hair scattered on the pillow, and the white bandages on his neck covering the gruesome wound left by Nagini.

"You can come back later if you want to see him," Pomfrey said, "though why you're suddenly so concerned about Severus, I surely don't know."

"He's… he wasn't what I thought he was, that's all," Harry admitted, more to himself than to her, "and I'm glad he isn't dead. Even if it is for going back to tormenting me."

Madame gave him a small smile.

"I'm sure he'll be glad you said that," she said before turning around and disappearing behind the curtains, giving Snape some privacy.

Harry gave one last look to Snape and then walked out of the Hospital Wing and to the kitchens. Snape had to rest, he was hungry, and Kreacher deserved a visit.

Harry was glad to visit the house elves in the kitchen, who showered him with food and drinks, and reassured Kreacher that he was, indeed, okay. Kreacher asked Harry when they would be going back to Grimmauld, but Harry had no answer for that. He soon returned to his friends, filled with a bag of sandwiches and bottles of pumpkin juice, to explain the good news of Snape's survival.

Harry found them all sitting in the deserted Gryffindor common room. No one, not even the Fat Lady batted an eye when Luna had entered the common room surrounded by her friends, it seemed that House rivalry was put on hold for now. Harry sat down in an armchair and took a sip of his pumpkin juice, feeling quite full after he visited the kitchens.

"Where's George?" Harry asked, noticing the red-headed was gone.

"He's gone home with my parents. And I'm going home soon, too," Ron said, letting his body fall on the armrest of the sofa where Hermione, Neville and Luna were sitting.

His voice had been devout of its regular jovial tone ever since the night before. Harry could understand why all too well.

"I'm going as well. I'll spend a few days with Ron at the Burrow, and then I'll try to find my parents and reverse the Memory charm," Hermione added.

"I thought Memory charms could only be broken through torture," Neville said, and this was perhaps, the first time his face didn't paint a grimace in mentioning the word 'torture'.

Hermione nodded.

"It normally is, but I didn't exactly make them forget the memories. Just altered them with what, I hoped at the time, was a very powerful charm. I just couldn't bring myself to…" she shook her head; as if dispelling her thoughts, "we might have to visit St Mungo's at some point…"

Hermione trailed off, everyone understood her concern. Ron gently wrapped one arm around her shoulder, pressing her against his side. Harry smiled, happy that his friends had finally taken that step together.

"I will come for the funeral," Harry announced, "but… I think I will return here afterwards. I have no home to speak of, Hogwarts is my only home… and I want to help restore it."

As Harry was saying it, he didn't even know if it was possible. McGonagall as Deputy Headmistress and right now, acting Headmistress, may want the student body to leave the castle. But he'll find out later; they surely needed help with restoring the castle to its former glory.

Ginny was looking at Harry intently, her piercing brown gaze boring into him. He dared to look and felt something strange twisting inside of him. Something that curled even more when Ginny sat on the armrest of the armchair, mimicking his brother's stance, and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders.

Hermione seemed happy and glad to be pressed against Ron's side as he absentmindedly rubbed her arm, but Harry… he wasn't feeling everything he had felt just before his hunt for the Horrocruxes began. The beast roaring inside his chest was now subdued, and he fought the urge to pull Ginny away as she rested her side on him.

"Harry?" Luna said, her eyes gleaming, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm… just exhausted, I suppose. My mind feels like it's trying to be everywhere at once. I think I need some time alone," Harry said as he got up from the armchair, letting Ginny's arm fall and avoiding Hermione and Luna's keen eyes, "I'll see you guys later."

A part of Harry felt like he was escaping the common room, and he felt heat creeping up his cheeks. But he couldn't unsee the not-obvious way Ginny had wrapped her arm around him, just as Ron had done with Hermione as if… as if nothing had happened.

Harry started to realize he wasn't the same that had left Hogwarts less than a year before. He just wasn't. He descended the stairs and walked without a clear destination in mind, his mind conjuring moments in which he had desired to kiss Ginny, and the moments he had finally kissed her.

And now he felt… strange. He couldn't define what he felt, but it wasn't the roaring beast he had felt a year ago. He blamed it on the exhaustion and how recent the battle was, he supposed he needed to rest and process everything.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized where he was.

His feet had taken him directly to the Hospital Wing.

Harry cast a Tempus charm, and it told him it was nearing dinner time. He wasn't really hungry after eating the sandwiches from the kitchen, and so he pushed the door open. This time he didn't scream for Madame Pomfrey and he walked inside, closing the door gently behind him.

He looked around, all the beds were occupied, some of them had the curtains drawn while others hadn't bothered. Harry winced when his eyes fell on all the students, all with pale faces and looking younger than they should, with various wounds of shapes and sizes. It seemed that, after the frantic first hours after the battle, rest and silence now dominated the room.

Finally, Harry's eyes fell on the last bed, the one nearest the window. The curtain was drawn, but Harry knew who was hiding there. He headed for it and slowly, trying not to make any noise, he slipped through the curtain that gave a bit of privacy to the Headmaster.

Harry repressed the urge to gasp when he saw the state Snape was in. The wound had bled through the bandages, which were now covered in a crimson colour, and beads of sweat adorned his forehead. It seemed that, even in an induced coma, his sleep was not restful. He debated whether to call Madame Pomfrey so she could check and reapply the bandages when the matron appeared from behind him.

"Potter," she said, her eyebrow rising, "here again?"

"Madame… his wound, it…" Harry said, pointing at the wound on Snape's neck.

Madame sighed.

"Yes… he's gone through three sets of bandages today alone. It seems that his body is using the wound itself to get rid of the venom as well, so I need to change the bandage often to prevent infection," she explained, "and he may have a bit of a fever too…"

Harry nodded, a bit more relieved now that it seemed Pomfrey was aware of the blood.

"It's almost time for dinner," Pomfrey said, and Harry didn't want to hear the slight accusation in her voice.

"I know. But I'm not hungry, I just ate some sandwiches the house elves prepared for me," he explained, "would you allow me to stay here a while?"

The matron looked at him with narrowed eyes, it seemed she was trying to discern his reason for staying. But after a split second, she shrugged.

"As long as you don't bother my patients, they all need to rest," Pomfrey said, "I'll cast a charm to tell me if something happens, Potter. I'd better not hear it while I'm eating."

"You won't, Ma'am, I promise. Thank you," Harry said as he nodded.

He then sat on the only chair beside Snape's bed. Pomfrey looked at him a bit longer and then conjured a bowl of cool water and a cloth. She then left, closing the door of the Hospital Wing behind her.

Harry then looked at Snape, this time he really looked.

The first time he'd been much too anguished and scared to truly pay attention to his condition besides the gushing wound on his neck. But now he could see his sickly pallor. His eyes were sunken with dark bags under them, the raven black hair with a few more streaks of grey than Harry remembered, even if Snape was not even in his forties yet.

The thing that surprised Harry more, though, was that Pomfrey had changed Snape out of his black robes, stained with blood and dirt, and had put a hospital gown on him. It was strange and shocking; as if that much bright colour didn't belong to Snape.

Harry snorted, wondering what Snape would think if he saw himself wearing such an awful hospital gown, with its white and beige colours, so far away from the dark black he usually wore.

"What I would give to hear you right now, Snape," Harry muttered under his breath, smirking.

And then he grabbed the cloth, wrung it of excess water and placed it on Snape's forehead. Snape didn't react, and Harry hoped he could bring some relief to the man who was obviously still in pain.

Pain.

Harry had never thought that pain would've been a constant in Snape's life. He never thought of the man with other than loathing and contempt, not even when in his first year, he was faced with the truth that he had wanted to save him when it was Quirrell who had been trying to kill him all year long. Over the years, his hatred for the man grew, and since it was obviously reciprocated, Harry never had second thoughts about it. Snape was just hateful, that was just who he was.

But now, after seeing his memories… something had stirred in Harry. It wasn't pity, not exactly. But it was something akin to… understanding, perhaps.

Harry had compared himself to Voldemort often, with his hard childhood, and had reached the conclusion that, had it not been for his friends, Harry might have chosen a very different path altogether. But he had found a home at Hogwarts, he had found a safe haven where he could be himself, loved and accepted by people for who he was, rather than a celebrity.

Snape hadn't had that. He'd wanted to escape, to find the safe haven at Hogwarts he himself found, but it had become a place of torture at the hands of bullies like his father. And with the years, he had lost the only friend he ever had. Which, Harry thought, was possibly the thing that tipped him over the edge.

What did Voldemort offer him? Acceptance, belonging, respect. Snape was a genius, Harry had no doubt of that, he was inventing spells and improving recipes of Potions when he was barely fifteen. If he had lost everything, why not accept the hand of a man who offered him a place with him, who offered him everything he had desired?

Tom Riddle had told him once, he could be very persuasive. And Harry had never realized just how in danger Snape really had been of falling for his trap. Of course he would.

Not that that excused him, Harry realized. Snape had a cruel streak that nobody could deny, least of all him, even with this new knowledge he had of him. But he had seen enough of Snape's memories to know he had spent his entire adult life atoning for his mistakes. And, it also explained his bitterness with life. It didn't excuse him, but to Harry's eyes, it made him... more human, perhaps.

Harry sighed and leaned back on his chair, his eyes staring at Snape's face. His eyebrows were not furrowed, for once, and Harry realized just how changed he was when he was sleeping.

He stayed there a while deep in thought; until Pomfrey came back from dinner and then went back to the Gryffindor tower.