CHAPTER 11 - SHATTERED WALLS

Notes:

Here we go, this chapter and the next are probably one of my favourite parts of this story,
ENJOY!
I know it's on the shorter side, but it is for you to feel it more!

It was late in the evening when Harry finally apparated back at Hogwarts, by the Front Gate and the apparition wards. He was knackered and had his pockets full of packages of different sizes. He felt his lips twitching in a smile as he felt the weight of Snape's packages, he'd ended up buying almost the same number of packages for him as for himself. As he walked to the castle, he wondered for a second about visiting Snape, as he'd mentioned he'd do that morning when he was leaving. But he was so damn tired that he only wanted his bed. So, he trudged his feet with slow steps towards the Front Gate; all the while wishing he could apparate inside the castle so he could magically reappear at the Gryffindor dormitory.

The Fat Lady eyed him when he arrived so late, but since the school year was not still on she let him in.

"Thanks," Harry said to her, stifling a yawn.

He walked up straight to his dorm and left all the packages on top of Ron's bed, separating the ones that were for Snape to take him the following morning. He made sure the potion ingredients were in perfect condition, otherwise, Snape would kill him and he didn't want the doubtful privilege of that. He checked the Ashwinder eggs, frozen and in good condition, as he nodded with satisfaction.

He took off his clothes that reeked and fell into his bed. Without even changing into pyjamas, barely with the energy to take off his glasses, he fell asleep.

The following morning he woke up feeling thankfully refreshed. He summoned Kreacher as soon as he got out of bed, to bring him breakfast.

"Master is up early, sir, he didn't come home until late last night!" Kreacher screeched as he apparated, "Is Master okay?"

Harry blinked at him and smiled.

"Yes, Kreacher, fine. Don't worry. I just was very tired when I came back and went straight to bed," He said, "Can you bring me some breakfast here instead of the common room, please?"

As Kreacher left and took only a couple of minutes to reappear with a tray full of food, Harry took the time to open up all the packages. He held several packages of books in his hands, and couldn't wait, he tore the wrapping paper. He smiled when he opened the new Potions book, which was thinner compared to other years. He now knew why, they would reuse the book for 6th year for the first part of the course, and he would be able to use Snape's own annotated copy of it.

He pulled it to his nose, inhaled deeply, and felt instantly transported back to the first year at Hogwarts. Up until then, he had never used new books. Petunia always managed to get some second or even third-hand ones for him that were always battered and which were missing some of the pages.

The new Defense book was a lot thicker than the Potions book, and the title read Advanced Defence: Bellum contra Tenebras. Wow, the name was indeed powerful. He didn't have too many notions of Latin, but it sounded like something related to the Darkness. He flicked through the pages, recognising a few terms and names, but there were a few he didn't recognize. He was eager to begin already, to start learning everything he didn't know about. Defence was a subject he excelled at, and he loved it, probably because it was something he naturally had a talent for.

He left the pile of books and grabbed a package of new parchment and quills, opening it and letting his fingers hover and gently touch the feathers. Now he related a bit more with Hermione's obsession with parchment and quills, and how picky she could become when it came to the quality. He could appreciate the scent of new parchment and the touch of brand-new, unused quills. He eyed the bottles of ink, the rolls of parchment and quills he'd bought, and was eager to start using them.

He had a feeling he'd regret that thought as soon as he began being loaded with homework and exams. This year, even though he was excited to begin, wouldn't prove to be easier than the rest of the years he'd been a student at Hogwarts; if anything it would be even harder. But for now, he felt exhilarated at beginning another year at Hogwarts.

As he unpacked the supplies, though, the anticipation for the new school year was tinged with a lingering sense of unease. Harry couldn't shake off a nagging feeling, a whisper of tension that danced at the edges of his thoughts. He remembered a few days ago when Snape had returned to his taciturn and hateful self. Would he be returning to that, now that he'd decided he was staying for another year as a teacher?

Harry couldn't go back to what they had before. It had been easy to hate him, but now that he knew, now that they'd spent weeks together, building this, whatever-it-was kind of relationship... Harry didn't want to give that up.

And it had been evident to him the day before. He had been eager to tell his friends about Snape and his almost miraculous improvement and recovery. Even if he'd been equally concerned about telling them, afraid of their reaction, he couldn't have kept it to himself.

And he was ready to admit it, he'd missed the man.

He supposed it had been because he'd spent every day with him for the past months, so, suddenly not seeing him one day was odd. But he couldn't help but, despite the vibrant array of school supplies before him and the excitement of it, an uneasy feeling lingered. With an air of trepidation and the feeling of knots in his stomach, Harry headed towards the Hospital Wing.

"Good morning, Snape!" Harry said with a smile as usual, as he pushed the door open.

The room was, as usual, deserted. Pomfrey was probably out with Sprout, or in her office writing reports, so Snape was the only occupant in the room. He was, for a change, sitting in one of the chairs instead of in bed.

What surprised Harry was Snape's icy stare.

"Come back, have you, Potter?" he said, and his voice was loaded with scorn, "was I too boring last night for the saviour of the world?"

Harry's mouth hung open, taken aback by the sudden anger and hatred in Snape's voice.

"What… what are you talking about?" he babbled, walking a few more steps until he stopped right by Snape's bed.

Snape's shoulders were rigid, his eyes icy cold, and his lips turned into an almost animalistic snarl. His hands, usually steady and controlled, now clenched the hospital gown he was wearing with a slight tremor.

"Were you too busy with friends and your adoring fans, to perhaps visit the greasy bat from the dungeons?"

Harry's eyes opened wide, not just at the accusation, but the language of it. He felt a ringing in his ear, distant but growing, like a drum piercing his mind. His mouth went dry, and he could feel cold sweat on his forehead despite the cool air in the room. His hands clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms so hard he was sure he'd draw blood.

Harry felt his heart race, each beat echoing like a drum in his ears. His mouth went dry, and he could feel the sweat starting to bead on his forehead despite the cool air in the room. His hands, which had been relaxed at his sides, were now clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms.

"What the heck do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Don't you dare lie to my face, Potter!" Snape snarled, "Have you had enough of playing the hero, of using others as it tickles your fancy? You used me and my recovery to indulge in some disgusting, morbid satisfaction. And now you all but abandon your pet project, because your accolades have returned to kiss your sorry ass! Well, I refuse to be treated like a pawn in your little game!"

Harry's chest tightened, making it harder to breathe. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. His stomach twisted into knots, a sickening churn that made him feel like he might vomit. His legs felt like they were made of lead, yet they also seemed ready to buckle at any moment.

Snape threw accusation after accusation, his voice almost sadistic.

And in one second, everything exploded. Harry's anger boiled over, driven by a fury he didn't understand, and by a shock of pain that he wasn't expecting to feel

"What the fuck, Snape?!" Harry exclaimed, "After everything I've said and done, do you still think I was doing this for me? To feed some twisted need? I've been coming here every day for us to find a middle ground, to get to know each other better!"

Snape's eyes flickered with a mix of resentment and something else. Something that was there only a split second, that Harry barely registered. Something more vulnerable, something like an unspoken fear.

But his voice remained sharp.

"There is nothing to know, Potter. I know everything about you."

"I was too tired last night; it was very late, I thought you'd be asleep! It's as simple as that, you're blowing this way out of proportion!"

"Am I? And do you think the silly little note you left would help?" Snape's expression twisted with bitterness, his hands clenching the sheets. "You said you'd be back that evening, yet you decided your Gryffindor cronies were better to spend your time with than I am, Potter. No more to discuss. Do not come here again."

Harry felt everything they'd been building was slipping through his fingers and he could do nothing to avoid it. He didn't understand what was happening. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat sending a rush of heat through his body. His hands trembled with a mix of anger and hurt, he felt pain in the palms of his hands. A burning sensation settled in his throat, a lump forming that made it hard to swallow. A prickling heat spread across his skin as the weight of Snape's words settled over him.

With a wave of anger that he didn't recognise and didn't even feel like it was his, distant and hot, he took the packages from his pocket, and one by one, he threw them onto the floor, at Snape's feet.

"You don't need me to unshrink them, then," he said as he threw the pile with force, hoping something had broken.

He smirked with a grim sense of vindication, as he heard the unmistakable clanking of glass breaking. As he looked down, the floor began to be tainted with red ink.

He raised his gaze to lock eyes with Snape. His eyes were glistening, filled with a badly controlled fury. And yet, for a split second, there was a hint of something. A wounded expression that flickered across his face like a passing shadow and that Harry couldn't quite pinpoint.

As the packages landed broken at Snape's feet, a tense silence filled the room, broken only by the dull thud of crumpled parchment and clinking glass.

He turned around, clenching his jaw and his hands in fists hard. He felt something inside of him break and something scream, but he couldn't hear it. He just saw red anger and fury. Before he closed the door, Harry spoke, his voice an icy tone.

"I had been wondering whether you would drop the pretence of being a human being for once; and whether the fucking greasy git I've always known would be back. I guess now I have my answer."

Snape's icy stare disappeared for a moment, a mix of emotions playing on his face, too fast for Harry to discern any. When Snape's eyes locked into his, there was a ghost of something, and Harry felt a surge of power inside of him, clamouring for him, screaming at him.

He just turned around and closed the door with a thud that echoed in the empty corridor.

As the door closed, Harry couldn't shake the echoes of their shouted voices lingering in the corridor, ringing in his ears. It felt uncomfortably familiar, a reminder of years of bitter confrontations.

Fists still clenched, he walked away from the Hospital Wing, the tension in the air dissipating but leaving behind a lingering discomfort. It was a dance he knew well – the volatile steps of arguing with Snape. The slammed door echoed in Harry's ears as he retreated, his anger a smouldering ember beneath his skin. It was a routine they'd perfected over the years – Snape's sharp words, Harry's fiery retorts.

But this time, something lingered, a sting beneath the surface that left Harry grappling with the intensity of his own responses. The familiarity of the exchange brought with it a sense of unease and Harry rested his back against the cold stone wall. He looked down, he had clenched his fists so hard he had drawn blood. He took his hand up to observe the little droplets of blood, the mark of semicircles etched into his palms.

"What just happened?" he asked himself in the loneliness of the deserted corridor.

Severus sat on the chair Harry usually occupied in the Hospital Wing, feeling the course of his emotions through him like a tempest within. The dim light of the room felt suffocating, and he looked up, at where Harry had been standing a minute ago.

What have I done?

He breathed hard, for the first time realizing that Harry had left. Gone.

And it was at that moment that he realized he wanted him.

He wanted him back.

His eyes dropped to the floor at his feet, where all the packages of items he'd requested Harry bought for him were thrown in disarray. Severus had heard the clanking of glass when Harry had thrown the purchases at him, and there was a pool of red ink that was tainting the stone floor. His bare feet were also bright red, he hadn't even realised they'd got wet with the spilt ink too.

He wanted Harry back.

The realization cut him deep.

His mind, set on torturing him, conjured images of Harry smiling up at him, his eyes vibrant with amusement or fun. His soft, warm hands, which had never touched him roughly. His words, teasing at times and soothing at many, many others. Encouraging, soft, warm.

That was Harry. And no, he was not Potter, not in his mind. Not any more.

But now, Harry was gone. And his last words had not been warm, or encouraging, or soft.

Now, his words had been hateful. Severus felt his breath falter when he realized the anger and the confusion were etched into his face, his words full of hatred.

Severus loathed himself for it.

He pushed him away, he pushed everybody away; when he truly wanted him. But Harry hadn't wanted him, he'd left and hadn't been true to his promise. He'd been told Harry was true to his word, that his loyalty knew no bounds.

And yet, the night before Severus had waited him up.

He'd waited, and waited, not knowing what time it was but seeing the moon travel on the Scottish night sky. Until the sun came up, and Severus had to accept the reality that Harry was not coming back. That he was gone for good. That he'd failed in his word.

He'd left him behind.

He felt a gnawing emptiness, more acute now after tentatively having opened his heart. He'd been proven, time and time again, to not care. To not give in to the desire for connection. But Harry had been different. He was always there, warm and present.

Until he wasn't.

An ache for connection that he had been long denied cut him deep, making him bleed inside. He couldn't keep people around, not even long enough to care.

And he did care.

The realization struck him like a blow to the chest. Fury surged within him, a wave of anger he couldn't control and he didn't understand, he just felt himself boiling over.

Why had he trusted him? Why hadn't he learnt the lesson that valiant, warm and kind Gryffindors liked to play with him?!

In a fit of rage, he got up and kicked everything that was on the floor, all the vials, quills, parchments and potion ingredients that Harry had bought for him. His knees gave up, a heartbreaking feeling in his chest when he realised he would've never fallen if Harry was here. He fell to the ground, a sharp pain spreading as the shattered glasses pierced the skin.

Severus screamed in anger as he grabbed the broken glass with his hands, regardless of the shards cutting into his skin, and threw it to the other side of the room as well.

Had Potter just been looking after him because it was a welcome distraction? It seemed obvious that when he'd had his friends, he had all but forgotten about him. About Severus Snape, the greasy bat of the dungeons, left in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. He hadn't even returned to check on him that day, despite telling him he would. Despite having come to see him every single morning and evening up until then. He hadn't even cared to see how he was fairing.

Not that Severus should've expected Potter to do that. But somehow, he had.

The routine they had developed had given Severus a sense of normalcy, a sense of someone nearby looking after him. It had been so long since he'd had that, someone checking in on him, making sure he was eating healthy and recovering.

His mind supplied flashes of the many Crucios he'd endured at the Death Eater meetings, how his aching joints complained as he dragged himself to the bathroom. His knees buckled under the strain, his entire body shuddered when he reached, as aftershocks of the pain cursed through his body. And yet, he'd had to do it himself.

Now, he'd grown used to having Harry with him. He'd even scolded him for trying to go to the bathroom on his own, for Merlin's sake! He'd become so reliable... that Severus had believed the lie, and had fallen into the trap.

But of course, who would care for the greasy Potions Master?

The bitter revelation stung as an open wound.

A voice inside Severus reasoned that Harry had informed him he would go to Diagon Alley, and it was understandable he would return exhausted from the day's activities. Deep down, Severus knew his anger was disproportionate. Yet, he found it unable to quell the resentment and pain building within at the thought of being left behind, of being used as a pastime.

He had been used before. He had been used all his life, always a pawn in someone else's plans.

But somehow, this felt different. This was Harry Potter.

He'd grown used to Potter's daily presence, to the gentle touch of expert and warm fingers applying the salve to his neck.

But Harry had left, and after the harsh and hateful words exchanged, he likely wouldn't return. Severus faced the harsh reality – he was alone, and he'd likely remain so. The bitterness of solitude mingled with the remnants of fleeting connections. Of course, Harry would leave, just like everyone else.

"Please... Harry, please... come back..." he whispered to the deserted room, which seemed to blur into an indistinct haze. Tears spilt from his eyes, tracing a cool path along his skin down his cheek and to his neck. Blinking rapidly, he struggled to see through the veil of tears, and let his body hunch, crushed under his emotions.

His throat let out a piercing, agonising scream, as he pictured Harry's smiling face in his mind. He prayed to the God he didn't believe in, that he would come back.

But of course, he was Severus Snape. Who would want him?

—-

Notes:

OH MY GOOD poor SEV! My heartttttt 💔
What did you think, did you enjoy this chapter? Let me know in the comments!
No worries no worries! The reconciliation is coming. I can't let these two idiots suffer for too long on their own, they were made to be together.
So, see you in the next chapter!