Chapter 4: The Return Notes:
Let's continue the story!
I hope Snape doesn't come as too OoC, but I must say, he has gone through so much it's practically impossible to not be changed.
ENJOY!
Snape is awake.
Harry had been repeating that sentence in his head all afternoon. Once he'd told Pomfrey the good news, she had all but smothered and checked him again and again, until he had snapped and refused to cooperate any longer. Harry had laughed up his sleeve, amused at Snape's obvious annoyance and his obvious disagreement with Pomfrey's smothering.
"Don't complain, young man, that's the price you pay for making us worried sick about you for an entire year!" she'd said as she'd performed diagnostic spell after diagnostic spell.
Snape groaned and Harry chuckled, which made Snape's eyes focus on him.
"Sorry, sir," Harry said, not hiding his smile now that he'd been found out, "but… she's right, you know. You fooled us all, and they worry about you. It's only fair."
Snape groaned again, and Pomfrey tapped him on the head with her wand.
"Try not to make any noises to let your throat heal completely. That goes for groans and grumbles as well. And no speaking," she told him, her finger pointing at him in a warning, "now, rest. Potter will be back in the evening to change your bandages and apply the salve to your neck."
At that, Snape's eyebrows arched and his eyes shot to Harry, who felt himself become smaller.
"Didn't he tell you? He's the one who brought you here, he's been looking after you all month," Pomfrey said, noticing Snape's eyes boring into Harry. "Now, you must behave with him, understood? He's been taking your health and recovery very seriously and you should do the same."
Snape slowly nodded, no complaint escaped his lips. It seemed that the knowledge that Harry had been looking after him had surprised him.
"We'll let you rest. Potter, off you go, let him sleep," Pomfrey said.
With that, she drew the curtain, giving the man some privacy.
And so, with one last look at Snape - who still looked at him with one eyebrow raised -, Harry had left the Hospital Wing, feeling a strange mixture of contradictions.
All afternoon he spent lying on the Gryffindor common room couch, debating with himself whether to return or not. He couldn't deny that he felt uneasy now that Snape was awake, reluctant to spend time with the man and afraid they'd go back to their usual loathing.
The patterns were too easy to repeat, it was all they'd known, insulting each other and fighting. The last words Harry had told him in the Great Hall before Snape disappeared in a cloud of black. The words before they saw each other last, at the Shrieking Shack. They had all been full of hatred and loathing, and Harry feared going back to that.
Now Harry didn't hate him. Or at least, he didn't hate the man in his head, the man who had spent the last seven years risking his life not just for Harry, but for the cause as well. The man who was so selfless that was capable of such sacrifice couldn't be bad, as he'd told McGonagall weeks ago.
However, now he was awake, conscious. And the Snape he remembered was cruel and a bully, and he loathed him. Would they go back to that? Harry didn't want that. He wasn't sure of a lot of things, but he was sure of this.
With a jolt, Harry realized there was another thing to consider. He'd spoken to Snape while he was in a coma, and he'd spoken from his heart about things he perhaps shouldn't have. He implicitly knew he could trust the man, he'd taken Dumbledore's secrets with him for a year and had only told Harry when it was time; when Voldemort was at his most vulnerable. But the words had spilt from the depths of his soul, and he'd confessed things that he hadn't dared to confess to anyone, not even Ron or Hermione. The way he felt and what he thought, he'd told him as if Snape was an old friend.
Would he remember? How much of that would he remember?
Harry sighed and pulled at his hair, tired of talking to himself. When dinnertime came Kreacher popped with a tray of food and left it on the table, but Harry wasn't hungry. Once Kreacher left the common room he picked at his food but wasn't able to eat too much.
"I have to go to him," Harry muttered to himself.
Despite his reservations and fears, he still had a duty to him, to nurse him back to health at the request of McGonagall. He wouldn't fail in his duty.
Leaving the food half-eaten he got up and left the common room. With slow steps, he descended the stairs of the Gryffindor Tower and headed for the first floor, stopping in front of the door of the Hospital Wing. He looked at the wooden door and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and gathering his strength.
He knew that from now on, things would be different.
He pushed it open and his eyes moved along the two rows of beds, almost all of which had been vacated in the last month as the patients recovered. Finally, he had no other option but to look at the last bed, beside the window. The curtain was drawn, but he knew he had to walk up there and face him.
Gathering his Gryffindor courage, Harry squared his shoulders and walked towards the bed, ready to accept any outcome. He gently drew the curtains back and slipped inside, and saw Snape, propped up with some cushions so he was in a sitting position. As soon as he entered the space, his black eyes fell on him, and he arched his eyebrow.
"What, surprised I'm back?" Harry asked with a smirk, "Pomfrey told you. You need to get your bandages changed."
However, instead of getting straight into business, Harry stood beside the bed, looking at the man in his eyes. He noticed that his pale skin had gained a bit more colour, though he needed to put some food in him, he was still too thin and frail.
"I know you can't speak yet, the wound is still raw and tender, but are you feeling okay?" Harry asked.
Snape nodded once, his eyes boring into his.
"No pain?" he asked.
Snape seemed to think about it for a second and then shook his head.
With a nod, Harry washed his hands thoroughly with his wand before procuring clean bandages and the salve he'd been using.
"Okay, let's do this, alright?"
However, as soon as Harry took a step closer and leaned forward to take off the bandages, Snape tensed up. His entire body went rigid, and then, as if propelled by something inside of him, he weakly pushed Harry away.
It had been a mild push at best, only managing to move Harry one step back because he wasn't expecting it.
But when Harry locked eyes with him, the words died in his mouth when he saw the absolute fury and hatred in Snape's eyes. His eyes were glistening with fire, and he couldn't speak but he didn't need to, the rage inside those eyes conveyed enough.
Harry stood there, as if stunned by magic, their eyes locked. He didn't understand why that sudden change in Snape, until…
Until Harry realized what was wrong: him.
He took another step back, feeling something raw wash over him, as what he'd been dreaded all day had materialized. Of course Snape would want anyone but him to cure his wound and look after him. Of course he still hated him, he was Potter after all.
Same old, same old.
Harry sighed, and looked away, trying to hide a hurt he didn't understand. He bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed, giving himself time.
"Look, I know this must be strange and you must hate it," he began, his voice less assertive in his ears, "but… I honestly didn't want you to die. And after seeing your memories…"
Snape growled and snarled, his noises almost animalistic now that he couldn't talk. Harry glanced at Snape, and he was looking at him with wild eyes, his mouth turned into a scowl, his yellowed teeth almost showing. His weak hands were shaking in anger, and Harry fought the urge to recoil.
No, Snape would not scare him.
"Can you blame me for seeing a different you after the memories you showed me? I didn't know that man existed!" Harry exclaimed, "You were always a bully to me and you hated me for something that had nothing to do with me. How can you be so surprised when I found out who you really were?"
At that point, he'd realized he'd taken another step forward, and he only noticed it when Snape's hand collided with his chest.
Surprised and puzzled that he'd lost awareness of himself, Harry stopped dead in his tracks. Snape had his arm raised, his hand on Harry's chest, preventing him from moving forward. And that, more than anything, made him click and calm down. He wasn't a bully and he wasn't about to crowd or tower over a bed-ridden man who had no wand and had no means of fighting or escaping.
Something tingling spread under Snape's touch, something warm. Harry looked down at Snape's stained and slightly discoloured fingers, where they'd collided with his chest, and he saw nothing strange. But the feeling was there, a feeling of warmth and comfort, a tingling sensation that made him want to smile.
He took one step back, losing contact with Snape, as his hands came to his sides.
"You think it's pity, that's why I'm here, don't you?" Harry said, and the question wasn't even voiced as a question, "You think that now I saw your memories and saw your life, and I pity you. Well, it isn't pity. It isn't even duty, even though I owe you my life."
Harry walked back and let his body sag on the chair. He took off his glasses for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose with his index and thumb, sighing.
"To be honest, I don't even know what it is. I only know I'm glad you aren't dead, and I will look after you until you're healed."
Harry risked another glance at Snape, and he was surprised to see him different. His arm had lowered and was now resting on his lap, and he was watching him with his eyebrows drawn together; as if studying him. As if he was trying to understand.
Harry offered a lopsided smile.
"This is and will be odd until we get used to it, it will probably take time. But I swear, I am not here to mock you or use anything against you. For now, will you allow me to put the salve and change your bandages?"
He waited, bent on respecting Snape's boundaries even if he said no. But to his surprise, Snape moved his head away, giving him access to his neck.
With gentleness, almost reverence, Harry got up from the chair, grabbing the bandages once again. He then leaned over Snape, their faces close.
"Ready?" he asked.
At Snape's nod, Harry began to undress the bandages, being careful not to pull too much. Slowly, the gaping wound on his neck began to reappear under the white gauze. Harry leaned closer to inspect it, the wound had taken a different colour now. The wound was not closed, by any means, but there were no hints of infection. The previously marred purple and angry red skin surrounding the wound was now a clear white, meaning it was healing properly.
With practised expertise after doing this for a month, Harry took the jar of salve in his hands and took a generous amount, spreading it over the flesh. Snape hissed at the contact, and Harry stopped.
"Okay? Does it hurt?" Harry asked, but Snape shook his head, "cold?"
Snape nodded. Harry couldn't do anything at the cold contact of the salve, but he rubbed it around the flesh with delicate fingers, trying to infuse the warmth of his fingers onto the injury.
Twice Harry glanced at Snape, and twice he saw his face partly covered by his raven black hair. However, he could see his eyes closed and his frown deepening. His body was tense under his fingertips, and he noticed him trying to keep his breathing under control.
"If it hurts, you don't have to endure the pain, you know," Harry said, nonchalantly, "I could tell Pomfrey and see if there's any pain reliever she can give you."
Snape side-eyed him, but he didn't reply to his comment.
After the salve had been applied, Harry washed his hands and then began to wrap the bandage around his neck. He had to lean closer and wrap the bandage with one hand while he kept his hair out of the way with the other when he wrapped it around the back of his neck. The hair, now clean, felt soft and silky in his fingers, not the greasy appearance it had had in all the years Harry had known him as a Potions Master.
In fact, Harry knew for a fact that the rumour going around that Snape didn't wash his hair was just that, a rumour. He now knew it was the potion fumes that made it greasy. Added to the fact that he had naturally greasy hair, Harry had seen it all the times he had washed it, how shiny it was right after washing it. He had washed Snape's hair enough times to recognize that the man did look after his hair, it was just impossible to keep it clean with the Potion fumes.
Once the bandage was applied, Harry made sure it wasn't too tight but it would keep the wound covered and safe from infetions. Once he was sure it was okay he let go of his hair, letting it cascading over his shoulders with delicacy.
"Okay?" he asked, raising his eyes to look at Snape.
Snape seemed to finally relax and he let out a soft sigh, his body falling harder onto the bed.
"Right, I want you to be honest, Snape. On a scale from one to ten, how much does it hurt?"
Snape shook his head at first, but Harry insisted.
"I know it hurts, you've been tense the entire time I've been touching it. It is still tender, so it's normal," Harry said, "come on, give me a number."
Snape seemed to resist a while longer, refusing to meet Harry's eyes. But he then seemed to understand that Harry wouldn't let it go, and he raised one hand, the five fingers up.
"Five? That's quite a lot, especially coming from you," Harry said. "Okay, I'll talk to Pomfrey, we'll see if she can give you anything for the pain. For now, I have to treat your blisters."
At that, Snape frowned, narrowing his eyes.
"Because of spending so much time in the same position you developed some rashes. I've been taking care of those too," Harry explained, "I will levitate you for a bit so I can treat them, okay?"
At that, though, Snape's face paled. His eyes dilated quickly and he tried to push himself and move back, as far back as the headpost and the cushions allowed him.
Harry stood beside him, wand in his hand, looking at him puzzled. And Snape shook his head no, with as much strength as he could muster, his eyes wild and open.
Harry lowered his wand.
"What's wrong? It's just a simple levitating spell, I promise I'm not bad at those," Harry said.
And then, everything clicked.
A memory of young Snape, upside down with his pale thin legs and a pair of gray underwear showing. Harry gasped, understanding crossing his mind immediately, and he lowered his wand further and put it back in his pocket.
"Snape, listen. I never have and never will use that spell on you," Harry said, leaning over so he would be at eye-level with him, "I'm not James. I'm aware you're incapable of defending yourself right now, but you don't have to defend yourself against me. I will not, ever, use that spell on you. Okay?"
Snape's breathing was elaborate, and Harry was taken aback. Had just the mention of the jinx upset him?
"It's okay, I promise, you are in no danger. I just wanted to levitate you a bit from the bed, so I can use some essence of dittany on the blisters. Since you've been in contact with a mattress for so long, spending some time levitating can help," Harry explained. "But I will not do it if you feel uncomfortable."
Finally, Snape dared to lock eyes with Harry. They were still wide and alert, his pupils still dilated in panic, but at least he'd dared to look.
Seeing those wild eyes, seeing Snape's erratic breathing, broke something in Harry. It didn't even feel like Severus Snape was in front of him, but a shadow of the man he had been. Harry was beginning to understand that the war had changed Snape in more ways than one.
He smiled sadly and tilted his head.
"If you feel up to it, I can move you on the bed, most of the blisters are on your back and legs," Harry said in a calm, conversational voice; as if nothing had happened, "no need for levitation. Would you rather I do that?"
Snape nodded yes. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and something tugged at Harry's heart uncomfortably when he saw his lower lip quivering.
"Hey, no need to be upset about it," Harry whispered in a soft voice, "you have bad memories of that, I understand. We can find other ways."
Snape's face lowered, his hair coming to hide part of his face. But something pulled at Harry when he saw him like that, so affected just by the mention of a levitating spell.
With trembling fingers, Harry reached with his hand, enough that his fingertips touched his hair. With gentle and slow motions, Harry's fingers tangled in the strands of hair, pushing it out of his face. He felt a rush of emotion deep within him, a warm tingling sensation spreading from the pit of his stomach when his fingers brushed against Snape's ear, placing the hair behind it.
"It's alright," his voice was low and deep, "I understand. As I said, I will never use that spell on you. Ever."
Snape blinked, and slowly his iris returned to his normal black, his pupils to their regular size. His breathing evened out, and he finally raised his gaze, meeting Harry's eyes.
"I'm sorry I even suggested it, I should've remembered your story with levitation," Harry said, "ready to show me your back?"
Snape swallowed thickly and then nodded his consent.
"I will not use my wand, that means I will have to move you with my hands. Okay?"
Snape nodded again, but he was tense. Harry nodded his head as encouragement as he moved the covers back, showing Snape's thin and pale legs. He trembled, and his lips were back to being tensed into a thin line.
Harry wanted to make it quick. So, he gently pushed Snape forward, using one of his hands to hold him in position while he moved the pillows to make some space for him. He then opened his hospital gown, just enough to see the almost dry blisters.
"They are looking pretty nice," Harry commented behind him, as he summoned the bottle of essence of dittany, "only a few drops, and it will be done."
Harry dropped a few drops on each of the blisters, as he held Snape with his other hand. The Potions Master was weak and unable to hold the position on his own. Harry could feel more and more of his weight on his hand with each passing second, to the point that his arm was burning with the effort of holding him. However, he pushed through until the last blister had been treated.
"Done," Harry said with satisfaction.
With a flicker of his wrist, the pillows returned to their original state, and Harry pushed Snape back against them. He gently cradled the back of his neck as he pushed him back so he could rest. When he did, Snape sighed and closed his eyes, visibly tired.
"Almost done," Harry said.
Now that he had two hands, he took the essence of dittany again, rubbing it in the blisters he had on the back of his legs. In less than a minute, he was done.
"That's it," Harry said as he closed the vial of the essence and pushed the sheets up to cover Snape's legs once more.
Harry was about to turn around when Snape's hand stopped him. He'd placed his pale and bony hand on his forearm. Harry looked at him, confused, and Snape made a gesture with his hands of repetition.
"Did I do this every day for the past month?" Harry guessed, and Snape nodded, "Yes, I did. Twice a day."
Snape's eyes widened, his eyebrows raised. And to Harry's surprise, is eyes glistened in the bright light of the Hospital Wing. His lips mouthed "thank you", even though he uttered no sound.
But to Harry, that was enough. He beamed, his smile so wide he felt his cheeks hurting, but he didn't care.
"It's the least I can do for you," he replied, the smile not fading as he moved a bit closer.
Very gently Harry held his head as he took out some of the pillows, so he would be in a more lying position. Then he let his head rest against them, scattering his hair so it wouldn't get tangled. Once that was done, he snapped his fingers and most of the candlelights blew out, only leaving a few close to Snape's bed.
The flickering light gave Snape's usually gaunt face a deeper, more mysterious expression. Harry smiled, and for a split second, he thought Snape didn't look too bad after all.
"Try to rest, okay? I'll talk to Pomfrey and see if we can get you something for the pain. I don't dare give you anything, in case it reacts to the potions she's been giving you."
But Snape's hand reached for him again, clutching at his arm as much as his strength allowed him, insisting. A low sound, which resembled a whine, came out from his lips. And when Harry locked eyes with him, they were holding something new. Something he'd never seen before, except that same morning, when he'd awakened.
A plea.
He had no idea what Snape was asking of him, no idea how to comfort him.
He placed his hand on top of Snape's and he gently rubbed at the back, drawing soothing circles with his thumb.
"You don't have to worry about anything, Snape. Everything will be taken care of," Harry said, "and I will be back tomorrow morning."
Snape tugged at Harry's forearm, and Harry smiled.
"Yes, I will," Harry said, "now try to rest, hm? You need to sleep to recover."
With his free hand, he snapped his fingers and the candle beside Snape's bedside table extinguished, leaving only two candles afire. However, Harry didn't move. He stood there, beside Snape, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb. The hand felt cold, bony and frail, but it gripped his forearm tight. Gradually Snape's breathing started to even out, his eyes drooping. And his grip on Harry began to loosen.
"Good night, Snape," Harry whispered before he left the Hospital Wing. Snape was probably asleep before Harry had even left.
Notes:
Thanks for reading! What do you think of this chapter? Any ideas of what's coming next? Reviews and comments are welcome!