CHAPTER 3 - THE AWAKENING

After lunchtime, which was also a solitary affair, Harry decided to pay Hagrid a visit. He walked through the Clock Tower entrance towards the Wooden Bridge as he remembered spending time there over the years. His lips curved into a sad smile as he remembered the conversations he'd had on that bridge, walking the Bridge with slow steps. When he got outside he skipped over the Stone Circle and walked the unsteady path he'd walked a thousand times towards Hagrid's.

Hagrid saw him coming from afar and walked outside to greet him.

"'Arry!" he exclaimed, smiling, "So 'appy you came by, come in!"

"Hey, Hagrid," Harry said when he arrived in front of the half-giant, "how are you doing?"

"Fine, fine, can't complain," Hagrid said as he walked inside and took a copper kettle from the counter, "tea?"

"Yes, please," Harry said, and then he winced slightly, "although not those rock cakes, I've just had lunch and I'm quite full."

Hagrid looked a bit crestfallen for a second, but he seemed to forget it quickly. He smiled at Harry, his lips hidden behind the abundant beard but his sparkling eyes didn't lie.

"So 'appy to see you, yes!" he exclaimed, patting Harry on the back but he did it with so much strength that Harry's back complained, "Oh sorry. You know me, 'arry!"

"How are the reparations going, Hagrid? Do you need a hand?" Harry asked once the kettle was on and they were both sat down on the table.

"I hear you 'ave your 'ands full yourself with Gryffindor tower," Hagrid said with a smirk, "na, don't worry 'bout me, I'm fine."

Harry then nodded, he wanted to help Hagrid but between the Gryffindor tower and Snape, he didn't know where he'd get the time if he'd accepted his help.

"I saw Professor Snape the other day, ye didn't tell me 'e was alive and that ye'd rescued 'im!" Hagrid said as he served tea for two, "how did ye ev'n do it?"

"I don't know, I didn't know he was alive. I wanted to retrieve him and give him a proper burial. You know, with Dumbledore," Harry said, "but then, I found him alive… I couldn't let him die, Hagrid, I couldn't."

Hagrid nodded, his eyes blinking rapidly at the mention of Dumbledore. He cleared his throat and swallowed.

"Ye know I hated 'im the most, 'Arry, after… well, after that," Hagrid admitted, "seeing 'im take 'is place, and believing for a year… ne, I never wanted to believe that."

"I know, you don't have to feel guilty for believing he was a Death Eater. He fooled us all, including Vold... You-Know-Who" Harry said. He changed the name at the last second, remembering how the name made Hagrid tremble.

"'is face I will never forget, sprawled on the floor," Hagrid said, and his voice sounded choked. "But what I will never, ever forget… is carrying ye from the forest."

Harry then remembered, as a foggy memory returning to his mind. It had been Hagrid who, thinking Harry had died at the hands of Voldemort, carried him from the Forbidden Forest to the castle.

"Hagrid… I didn't think…"

"They minutes were the most horrible of my entire life," and Harry could see, plain as day, tears rolling down Hagrid's cheeks until they disappeared into his bushy beard. "It will give me nightmares for a lifetime…"

"I'm so sorry, Hagrid," Harry said, leaning on the table. He needed to offer something, anything, as comfort.

Harry placed a hand on Hagrid's arm, which was resting on the table, and squeezed. Hagrid looked at him, blinking as he sniffled, as if he wanted to dispel all the tears.

"I'm sorry I exposed you like that, it was something you should've never had to do. To carry my body," Harry continued, his voice soft and low, "but when you have nightmares, think about it this way. You were taking me home."

Hagrid looked at him, blinking, as Harry leaned closer.

"You were the one that opened my eyes to the world, to our world. And it was only fitting that it was you taking me back home. And not a filthy Death Eater."

That managed a choked laugh from Hagrid, and just like that, he seemed to recover from his emotional outburst.

His eyes, though, were still glistening a while after that, until the conversation went into less emotional territories.

"So, what are you doing these days? Only rebuilding the Gryffindor tower?"

"No, I also read, sleep, and visit Snape," Harry said, "I'm in charge of looking after him and replacing his bandages every day."

"Ye, Professor Snape?" Hagrid said, arching an eyebrow, "Why on earth?"

"I overheard McGonagall and Pomfrey discussing removing Snape from here and taking him to St Mungo's, and I may have… overreacted a bit," Harry said, feeling his ears burn. "So, in order to convince McGonagall to let him stay here to recover, she made me promise I'd help Pomfrey in his recovery."

"And 'ow are you fairing so far?"

"Very well, given that he's asleep," Harry said, shrugging, "we'll see when he awakes and he finds out a Potter was healing his neck wound and washing his hair…"

"Come on, 'Arry, I always told ye. Snape is not that bad," Hagrid said amused, shaking his head.

"Oh I know that now… he was only awful with me," Harry said with a small smile, "but I'm grateful for him. Otherwise, I would've never been able to do what I did. It was thanks to him."

"Yes, that blasted Snape, always two steps in front of everyone!" Hagrid said with a laugh, "Well, I'm glad ye see 'im differently now."

"I do. But I'm afraid he won't, once he wakes up… if at all," Harry said.

"Of course he'll wake up, if Poppy says so, it'll be so," Hagrid said with conviction.

After a while, and with a few rock cakes in his pockets at the insistence of Hagrid, Harry finally left the hut and walked his way up towards the castle again. He arrived at the common room and left the rock cakes on the table. He knew he wouldn't be eating those or he'll end up without a few of his teeth and he'd rather keep those, thank you very much.

He knew he had work to do, but he just didn't feel like it, not now. He had a lot on his mind.

He was about to grab a book from the table and lie on the couch, feeling stuffed after the food and tea. However, something clicked on him, something that made him not want to stay at the Gryffindor tower. So, turning back around and leaving the tower he retraced his steps; until he was in front of the Hospital Wing door.

He looked at it, puzzled, wondering why he had such a strong desire to be here. But once he pushed the door open, once his eyes fell on the sleeping man at the far end of the room, something inside of him made him jolt. He smiled, treading silently on the stone floor.

He pulled the chair at the foot of the bed, sitting down beside Snape's bed, observing him. His hair was now dry and shiny, and it sprawled elegantly on the pillow, the dark colour a stark contrast to the crisp white sheets. His breathing was deep, his mouth closed but not tense, and he looked peaceful. Harry's lips drew a small smile, happy that at least Snape was resting and recovering.

There was, however, a nagging thought in the back of his mind, which he tried to pay no attention to. Snape was, if anything, incredibly private and proud. He didn't know how he would take that, first, Harry was alive. And two, that he had been looking after him while he was in a coma, seeing him practically naked and tending to his wounds. Harry ran a hand through his hair, leaving it messier, as he thought.

"I hope you don't hate me now for this," Harry whispered to him, "I really hope you understand that… I needed to do this. For you."

For some reason, tears prickled in Harry's eyes.

He closed them shut and willed them to go back, confused as to why they'd come in the first place.

What was happening to him?

But they were as stubborn as Harry himself, and they started to roll down his cheeks. He tried to take a deep breath but it only sounded ragged in his ears and he lowered his head.

Everything was crashing down on him at once.

The war, Dumbledore, the Horrocruxes, the argument with Ron, his visit to his parents' grave at Godric's Hollow, the battle, Remus and Tonks, Fred, Snape, Voldemort… It was just too much.

He shook his head, willing to dispel the thoughts, to make them go away.

But it crashed over him like a turbulent wave, hitting him hard. His heart pounded against his ribcage, with the blood flow ringing in his ears and when he looked down, the edges were blurry. He tried to blink and more tears welled up, escaping his control as they streamed down his cheeks. He could see, he could smell the putrid scent of blood and rotten flesh, he could smell the burning, he could see the effects of curses on countless dead bodies…

"No, no, stop, STOP!" he shook his head again and again, desperately pulling at his hair, and clenching his teeth.

He tried to regain control of his breathing, of his mind, willing it to stop its whirlwind of emotions, but he was grasping at straws. He hadn't realized how weakened his mind was, but in his state, he couldn't occlude his mind, his emotions too overflowing to control. In a frantic attempt to find comfort and grounding, his gaze fell on Snape.

He couldn't explain it, but he found himself drawn to him. His hand reached for his at the same time as a pained hiss escaped his mouth, his jaw so clenched that it began to hurt. But as soon as his hand grabbed Snape's bony, elongated one, something inside of him clicked.

It was as if something was suddenly right in the world, something he had been missing for a while and he hadn't realized it was missing. He clutched at the hand and a sense of safety washed over him, making his tears roll down faster in relief. He was safe. He was here, at home, at Hogwarts, and Snape was with him.

It took a while, but finally, Harry felt he could breathe again, his frantic breaths gradually easing. His heart was beginning to slow, the overwhelming thoughts receding.

He finally took a deep breath and looked at the unconscious man before him. He swallowed.

"You are the only one who understands…" Harry whispered, still holding onto Snape's hand, "Thank you, Snape…"

Harry's eyes flickered to the peacefully sleeping man, his emotions still raw, but having found a new way of calming down.

And it was odd and then again, it wasn't, that it was Snape's presence.

After a couple of days, Harry had found a new routine. He'd wake up and have breakfast at the Gryffindor common room. He didn't see the point in going to the Great Hall if he was alone anyway. For the first time, Harry had the room all to himself, and so he took full advantage of sprawling on each chair, armchair and couch. His favourite spot was the small coffee table in front of the fireplace, which would be roaring with fire when he got down from the dorm. He liked to sprawl on the carpet, his back propped with some cushions and his legs under the table, his feet warming up to the fire. It was the end of May, so the crude winter had finally left the Scottish Highlands, but in the early hours of the morning, it was still chilly.

After eating he would go straight to the Hospital Wing to visit Snape, and while Pomfrey tended to other patients, he'd clean his wound and replace the bandages. The wound was healing nicely, according to her, and the bandages didn't come out bloodied anymore. They didn't have pus either, so that was good, it meant no infection. Harry would put on the salve on the wound, and a few drops of essence of dittany on the blisters around his legs and back. It was a bit complicated to do so without turning him around, but by levitating him a few inches, Harry could apply the essence of dittany and then rub the solution around the blisters. After that, he'd perform some cleaning charms and make sure his bladder was empty, taking care of those less desirable bodily fluids. It also felt strange to see Snape with stubble, so one morning he had even shaved his face, and he looked much more like himself.

Usually, by that time Pomfrey was already done with her other patients, and she would cast charms that made the potions travel to his stomach one by one.

"Good job, Potter, Severus is recovering quite well. He should be waking up in a couple of days or three," Pomfrey said to him that morning, after three weeks of looking after Snape. Harry smiled, proud of his job.

He'd leave him levitating for a while so his blisters would dry out and he wouldn't develop more, and then he would go back to the Gryffindor tower.

At first, the rebuilding of the tower was hard to get his head around since there were a lot of aspects to take into account. Over the last week or so, however, he'd had steady progress, starting from the lower floors and building his way up. Thankfully, the dorms below the common room hadn't been too affected, just full of rubble and dust, but nothing major. As he worked his way up the dorms, he saw that their state was getting worse, and the dorms on the top floor were almost destroyed completely. So far, he had the lower floors, the common room and the first-floor dorm fixed up and ready to go. He was proud of his progress.

Besides, he did a lot of the rebuilding without magic, which also helped him in keeping his mind occupied. Moving the biggest parts of rubble and debris had to be done with magic, of course, as well as rebuilding the stone walls. But once that was done, Harry liked to do all the cleaning and tidying up by hand.

By the time lunchtime came around, Harry was both exhausted and ravenous. But because of the increasingly good weather, he'd usually visit the kitchens for a bit of lunch to go and he'd go outside. Even if it was raining, he'd sit on the steps of the clock tower entrance or under the courtyard, and enjoy the fresh air.

After that, he was done with the refurbishment work for the day, and he'd go straight to the Hospital Wing.

"Hello, Snape," he'd say to him as he sat down on the chair and checked his bandages. In the last week or so, he'd also taken to prop him up under some pillows, so his body would be a bit more reclining instead of lying down.

And then, every day would be different.

After the strange overwhelming episode, in which Harry had held onto Snape's hand and had unexpectedly found comfort in him, Harry was even more drawn to him.

He knew he only needed to visit him in the morning and in the evening to change his bandages and reapply the salve on his neck, but… for some reason that Harry couldn't explain, he was drawn to him.

He'd spent a long time thinking about it, why Snape's sole presence, even if he was unconscious, had helped so much in grounding him. After racking his brain for hours, trying to understand his own behaviour that sometimes caught him off guard, Harry had a theory. He deduced that, with the knowledge that Snape had saved him so often during his school years, his subconscious had already associated him with a safe place.

Even if the man himself was anything but safe.

Whatever the case was, though, Harry couldn't bring himself to leave the Hospital Wing. He'd spent the entire afternoon there, sometimes just sitting and watching him, some other times reading. Other times, he spoke to him.

It was weird, at first, and Harry felt stupid talking to an asleep man. However, he felt it helped him in easing his heart and soul, and he realized he had a lot of things bottled up. Things he hadn't talked about to anyone, things he hadn't even realized were an issue.

"Like these funeral and memorial things… I know I'm supposed to attend, as the Saviour of the world or whatever… but I just don't know what to do in them," Harry told him, on a sunny afternoon on the first days of June. "Fred's funeral was more than enough, and I don't want people looking at me for support or guidance. I don't… know how to deal with this…"

Harry sighed, leaning back against the chair and looking up at the ceiling.

"I wish Dumbledore was here, he sure would have one or two words of wisdom to give me…" Harry said his eyes falling on Snape's sleeping form. "But of course, I guess you wished he was here too… I'm so sorry you had to do all that, Snape. I truly am…"

He knew he was rambling so he let his head fall on the back of the chair and he closed his eyes. He breathed in and out, letting his thoughts simmer on the surface of his mind.

That was until he heard a noise coming from the vicinity of Snape's bed.

Harry's eyes stared at Snape, whose eyebrows were furrowed, and his head twitched uncomfortably. His hand twinged and grabbed the bedsheets.

"Snape?" Harry spoke, almost afraid to say the name.

Snape's eyes flew open, wide and alert. Those pools of darkness were open and were staring at Harry as if he had seen a ghost, his expression paling. His breathing was ragged and he groaned, a sound coming deep from his throat, which sounded raspy and hoarse.

"It's okay, it's alright," Harry said, leaning closer so Snape could look into his eyes, "you're okay, you're alive."

But Snape made another raspy sound, and his hands twitched. He was weak, so weak he could barely move, but there was an urgency in his eyes. He began to shake his head, his eyes closing as another scratchy sound blurted from his lips, hand weakly moving towards the vicinity of his neck.

But Harry's hand stopped him. With care, so as not to scare him further, he caught Snape's wrist, holding his hand in a gentle hold.

"Snape, open your eyes. Look at me," Harry said, willing him to listen.

It needed some more coaxing, but eventually, he did, his eyes opening and blinking, focusing on him.

"Do you know who I am?" Harry asked.

Snape took a few ragged breaths, his eyes not leaving his, until he finally nodded.

"Good, that's good," Harry sighed, relieved, "it's okay, everything's over."

Snape's hand was shaking in Harry's hold, and he held it a bit tighter, taking care to not hurt him. But then, Snape did something Harry wasn't expecting. In his weakened state, Snape pulled at Harry's hand insistently. He moaned, his lips twitching downward as he shook his head again.

"No, no, I'm not dead," Harry said, understanding suddenly crossing his mind, "and neither are you. It's over, He's gone. You're free."

At his words, Snape stopped moaning and shaking his head. He locked his eyes on Harry, and for the first time in his life, he saw a plead in those eyes. They were wide, desperate, and, Harry was shocked to see, misty. His lower lip quivered, tension etched into every line of his face, the lips parted as if he wanted to speak, to beg.

"I'm telling the truth, Snape. I wouldn't lie to you about something like this," Harry confirmed, offering a small smile, hoping it showed understanding, "it's over now. You're free."

Another moan, this time it sounded like a whimper, and Snape's gaze turned downward. His lower lip was still trembling and his entire body shuddered.

Harry didn't know what to do, it seemed like Snape was disoriented and overwhelmed. It was a lot to digest. His last image before closing his eyes had been Harry, as he had given him his memories. He nearly died believing Harry would learn he had to die at the hands of Voldemort for him to be destroyed. Someone else had to kill him, and Harry had to die.

No wonder Snape was confused.

"I'll spare you the details for now, you nearly died after Nagini's attack. But you were fast in taking the antivenin. I took you here and Pomfrey managed to save you," Harry explained with a soft voice, "you've been in a coma for about a month, but your wound is healing."

At his words, Snape stared at Harry, tugging weakly at his hand again, his eyes pleading.

"Yes, I promise. It's over, he's gone. He won't torture you anymore," Harry said, and he repeated the same words he'd been saying, willing Snape to believe them, "You're free."

And it seemed that, finally, Harry's words penetrated Snape's likely foggy mind.

Something that seemed like a gush of wind came over Snape, and he looked away to the window to his left, his eyes filling with tears. He breathed out, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. He then lowered his head, his hair partially concealing his face with his now shiny, raven-black hair.

At first, Harry panicked a bit, thinking Snape was in pain. But as he observed, Snape's body wasn't in tension, it was more like… it was deflating.

It was relief.

Harry wanted to say something, anything, to comfort him. But he didn't know if it would be welcome, this was Snape after all. He held his hand, gently rubbing the skin with his thumb, wanting to calm him as emotions washed over him.

It was at that moment, however, that Harry saw Snape. Truly saw him. A human being, full of a vulnerability he had never seen before. For years the Potions Master had seemed far from any of Harry's peers or other professors, so far removed from anything remotely human. But he had done everything he could and more, he'd sacrificed parts of himself he would never recover.

He gently squeezed Snape's hand, and his breathing hitched; as if he had just realized their hands were still joined. But Snape refused to meet his eyes. Harry's thumb resumed the circular soothing motions on the back of Snape's hand, and he could feel Snape's long, bony fingers clutching at him.

"Shhh it's okay… it's over," Harry whispered, still leaning forward so his face was close to Snape's, "you can rest now, you're safe."

And finally, it seemed that Snape could once again control his emotions, as he took a deep breath in, expelling it through his mouth. His eyes were still averted, the black hair covering his face, so much so that Harry could see the tip of his aquiline nose.

Harry then felt him tensing up under his fingers, his hand going slack in his hold. Not wanting to upset him, Harry slowly released his hand, placing it on top of the bedsheets. He then sat down again on the chair, leaning back, and smiled. After a month of looking after him, it had finally paid off.

"I'll call Pomfrey now, she'll be so glad to see you awake," Harry said, "is it okay if I do that?"

Snape nodded and sniffled, still avoiding his eyes. Something in Snape, however, told him he was far from ready to be seen yet.

He leaned forward on his seat and perched his elbow on the mattress.

"We can wait for a bit, you know. It's alright," he said in a whisper.

Snape didn't move for a bit. He seemed to gather his courage, as his shoulders heaved once, and then he locked eyes with Harry. Willingly.

Harry wasn't surprised to see his eyes bulgy, red-rimmed and glistening, his eyelashes still wet. He would bet his right arm that Snape wouldn't like to be seen like this. So, fishing his wand from his pocket Harry transfigured a nearby paper clip Pomfrey had left behind into a package of paper tissues.

He then moved from his chair, and leaned, standing at Snape's eye-level with a tissue in his hand.

"May I, sir?" Harry asked.

He waited as Snape tensed all over, his nostrils flaring dangerously, his eyes narrowing. But then, as soon as it came, it went away. He seemed to deflate as he nodded slowly, defeated, looking down and averting his gaze.

Harry then reached and began to gently wipe all traces of tears away. He began on his cheeks, clearing them of all wetness, and then worked his way up.

"Close your eyes," he instructed, making sure his voice was soft and as non-threatening as possible.

As soon as Snape did, Harry dabbed the tissue onto his eyes, being very careful and gentle. As he carefully wiped away his tears, Harry's mind was awash with a multitude of emotions and thoughts. He couldn't help but feel bad for being in this position. Snape must despise being in this vulnerable state, and what must despise even more, is to be at the hands of Harry himself. A Potter, the son of his sworn enemy. He had no other option, as Harry was the only one in the Hospital Wing, but he hated to think that he was the last person Snape would've wanted to see when he opened his eyes.

Compassion swelled within Harry as he remembered a thousand memories Snape had given him. As he considered all that Snape had endured—years of secrecy, danger, and inner turmoil.

And just as suddenly, this moment took a very different look, as he understood that, even if he despised it, Snape was allowing Harry to touch him. To console him.

He leaned closer to Snape, their faces very close, he had rarely been so close to him except for that time at the Shrieking Shack.

"It's okay to be overwhelmed, you know... give yourself time," Harry whispered in a low voice.

Snape only sniffled and blinked, slowly. To Harry, this moment etched itself into his heart. He had never seen Snape's humanity and vulnerability as out in the open as he was seeing it now.

As a last instruction, Harry placed the paper tissue at the tip of Snape's nose, cleaning it of snot.

"Can you blow?" Harry asked.

Snape did, weakly, and some of his congestion disappeared when Harry cleared his nose. He saw Snape's averted gaze and blushed cheeks, but decided not to comment on it. It must've already felt awful to have Harry help him, he wasn't going to call him out on his embarrassment.

He then got rid of the tissues and fixed his eyes on the man.

He was seeing him with other eyes now. Snape was a man of contradictions, he had once seen Snape as an adversary, a tormentor. But now he saw a different side—a man who had, in his own way, looked out for Harry, even when it meant sacrificing his own safety and reputation. He gazed at Snape and grinned at him.

"Ready now?"

As he gazed at him, the lines of Snape's face gradually softened a bit. He nodded slowly.

"Oh, she'll be so glad you're awake…" Harry said with a smirk before he disappeared behind the curtain.