Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **For as long as he lived Harry was never going to forget the sight of those black eyes in pain. The light hit Snape from the side and then it seemed to cover him as he turned in it to face the boy he had protected so many times before. And it looked like he was melting...

**Author's note: **Be warned...this is one of my pet projects so update may be erratic.

**Thanks: **To _Whitehound_ for the Britpicking. I hope the mild editing I did makes it good enough now. Thank you!

**Author:** **_Spirit_**

o

_**The Cinderman's Kiss**_

o

CHAPTER ONE

o

With his own two eyes, Harry Potter had seen Severus Snape die.

After Sixth year, Harry had spent a year in training, learning first the discipline of the Aurors and then the skills of the Healers. He figured that he needed it because for another year, his life had been devoted to the total destruction of Voldemort. The horcruxes had been no picnic to track down and each one he destroyed almost took a piece of him with it.

The day he faced Voldemort he had been two weeks shy of his nineteenth birthday.

It was easy to remember information like that because he had been so damn sure he was going to die that he had even started seeing flashes of his funeral in the back of his mind. One hex after another flew by him and always it seemed that it was the Cruciatius Curse that never missed. He had never screamed so much in his entire life. It had all been a sport to Voldemort of course. The bugger didn't know that Harry had come to him only after he made sure that the only horcrux existing was the one that Voldemort was so actively using. So they fought in a relatively huge circle while the Death Eaters watched.

Then Voldemort had gotten bored with his little game. While Harry laid writhing in agony Voldemort had laughed and then shouted a curse Harry had never heard about in his life. It had sound demonic and it was. Only Harry hadn't felt it, because just when he thought the prophecy was going to be fulfilled in Voldemort's favor, Severus Snape jumped in front of him and shielded him from the angry stream of burgondy light.

For as long as he lived Harry was never going to forget the sight of those black eyes in pain.

The light hit Snape from the side and then it seemed to cover him as he turned in it to face the boy he had protected so many times before. And it looked like he was melting. Harry didn't even realize that the screams he heard was his own. When he could move again, when he remembered why he was there and why Snape had sacrificed himself like that, he gathered all the love and all the regrets and all the guilt he had been carrying around his whole life. He crawled out of the arch that Snape's body had made above him with tears he could no longer hide and somehow he managed to focus his wand through the pounding in his head.

Voldemort's body exploded and his soul, suspended in the air for a second, seemed to crumble like ashes.

The Death Eaters began to scream after that. All collapsed to the ground, clutching their left arm. They formed an ocean of black hooded figures across the mountainside. The first person Harry thought was Snape turned out not to be. He had wanted to carry what was left of Snape to the Healers at St. Mungo's but no matter how he shouted the man's name or searched for him, the screams were just a choir of voices that masked the one voice he wanted to hear.

He apparated that night knowing that Severus Snape was dead.

Harry enrolled in a Muggle university in London soon after, where he proceeded to try and find some sort of normalcy in his life. For months he wanted nothing to do with magic. Instead he found comfort in the arms of women who knew nothing about his former life. After Ginny there just seemed to follow a string of nameless faces. And even from them something was still missing.

Then Harry met Nathan and for a while he thought that he had finally found the missing links in his life. Nathan however turned out to not be so perfect, but at least when Harry finally walked out on his cheating arse, he left with the epiphany that, yes, he was gay and that was what the women could not provide for him. So of course the string of nameless men followed. It took a night of tears and a therapist to finally get him to face the fact that he was not alone in the world and he hadn't really killed everyone in his life who truly cared about him.

The two years that followed after that was a whirlwind in his mind of mending relationships with people like Hermione, and the Weasleys, who had never left him. It was a time to rediscover his magic too and to begin to seriously training in a career that held a promise of salvation for him. Not everyone could be a Healer but Harry was determined to become one. He made friends in the Muggle world too and changed his major in university from Undecided to Psychology. So of course, that meant that he had to spend hours catching up not only in the Wizarding world but in the Muggle world also.

Which was why on that particular day in December, when he stepped off the bus that had taken him from his university's campus, Harry's mind had been a little preoccupied even as he searched for an appropriate place to apparate.

The winter night was dark, with only just enough moonlight to see for the short distance it took to walk from one streetlight to the next. The few stubborn representatives of London's begging population took to huddling beneath the glare of the lamps in hopes of being granted even a small bit of heat. Such heat of course was only wishful thinking. Whenever Harry passed one such group he fiddled with the wand in his pocket and softly murmured a warming spell. It was the least he could do, although he greatly wanted to do more. The spells would only last the one night and come morning the people would return to the surprising cold of this London winter.

Harry didn't see the figure huddled in the shadows because he had just spotted another such group on the path ahead and he had been readying his wand to cast the spell.

He pitched forward over the lump, and went sprawling upon the pavement, barely missing the mountain of snow that had piled up on the roadside. It took a second for him to make sure that he only had a few bruises from the fall because his winter attire had padded his landing. It took another second for him to remember that he had tripped over something.

"Are you alright?"

The something turned out to be a someone, but the someone wasn't moving. Harry could just make out the black hooded cloak that was draped over the still figure. He was lying on his right side in an awkward manner as if Harry's clumsiness had jarred his unconscious form into the position.

"Are you alive?" Harry asked softer this time. His breath escaped in a cloud of smoke that did nothing to appease the fear he felt.

First things first, he checked for a pulse. Grabbing the limp hand, he pushed back the sleeve of the cloak and searched until he found the beacon of pounding beneath the thin layer of flesh. As soon as he found a pulse, Harry sighed in relief.

"Well you're not dead yet but you won't last another night out here."

It made sense to try and soothe the man -for it was a man, judging by the shape of the hand he held- and Harry had to silently admit that it helped him too, as if with his words he could indeed keep the man alive. Using both hands he clasped the cold fingers between his palms wondering if maybe with a little heat the man would wake. When that didn't work he took out his wand. What he need was some light. If he could make sure that the man wasn't injured in any other way then he could try the warming spell on him.

"Lumos."

The light of his wand flickered on, just as the fingers he held twitched in his palm. Harry almost dropped his wand in surprise, but he recovered quickly enough. He hovered the light over the hand he held, just to make sure that he hadn't imagined the movement. Long, pale fingers were illuminated. The nails were still yellowed and in desperate need of a good clipping, was the next thing that Harry realized. The fingers were definitely skeletal from lack of proper nutrition, but Harry had seen the hand stir enough potions to recognize the fingers.

Harry took a deep breath, knowing what he had to do to make sure, yet not wanting to see that face again if he could help it. He remembered the last time he had looked upon Snape's face. He still had nightmares sometimes on that scene alone.

"If you are who I think you are then this is going to be unpleasant for both of us." He was rambling aloud into the night again but Harry honestly felt that he needed something to brace himself. "You and I both know that you are in no position to argue so try not to. I won't hurt you. I just need to make sure that you're you."

Harry swung the light up towards where he assumed a face should be. In that split second he found himself hoping that he was wrong and the professor he had known had not been reduced to this. Besides, he really was dreading seeing that face again. He was desperately praying that it was Snape though, because if it wasn't Snape then it could be any of the Death Eaters who may have escaped and he honestly hadn't thought of that before.

Of course, one look and he would have recognized that nose anywhere. He would have recognized the dark eye that stared so intently at him also. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with the left side of the familiar face, for which Harry was intensely grateful. At least he could recognize the man. Malnourished or not, Snape was Snape.

"If I turn you over, I'm going to get a nasty surprise aren't I?"

The eye blinked but didn't shift away. Then slowly, very slowly as if it hurt just to move, Snape nodded. That left Harry with a dilemma. He could face his fears head on, pull on the Gryffindor courage he was so popular for and take the man home with him, or he could back away from the fallen wizard and leave it up to the authorities to realize that there was one ex-Death Eater who wasn't as dead as everyone thought he was.

"I owe you so damn much Professor. I can't just repay all that you've done for me by leaving you to die on some Muggle pavement," Harry finally said softly. "I guess that means that I'm taking you home with me. You'll need a good meal, a good bath and a good Healer."

Snape pulled his fingers away from Harry's hand and turned his head away, letting the cloth of the cloak hide what little part of his face Harry had been conversing with. Harry realized that it was as much as a "Go away and leave me the hell alone Potter. I don't need your pity" that he was going to get. Well that wasn't going to happen since Harry had made up his mind. Besides, the man looked light enough to be carried and Harry was just about ready to resort to that if he had to.

"Forgive me professor. I'm sure that when you feel up to it you'll curse me back to Hogsmeade the first chance you get, but as I said, I'm not leaving you here to die."

It was the only warning he gave before he violently pulled the wizard into his arms and apparated with him.

They landed on Harry's lawn in a tangle. It wasn't Harry's best apparition but seeing as he had managed not to splinch either of them, he couldn't feel too bad about the fact that he missed his target of landing before the front door. There was nothing left but to walk the short distance up the three steps and onto the veranda.

"Professor?" Harry looked over at the figure that hadn't move when he had stood to brush himself off. "Oh blimey, you're not unconscious again are you?"

The silence that greeted the question was enough of an answer to the mild accusation.

Harry stooped to grasp one cloth covered arm, which he swung over his shoulder. He tugged the body until the professor was in a sitting postion with his head lulled forward. Harry had to contemplate what to do next. Surely he couldn't pull the man like that across the lawn and over steps and he couldn't exactly carrying him in a full body haul because he would need to get to his keys once he reached the door. When the solution hit him Harry spent a good minute laughing at his own stupidity. One whole year without magic had obviously rendered him stupid and even the two years following, had done nothing to help make him any less dumb.

Pulling out his wand, and still chuckling at his lack of intelligence, Harry levitated Snape.

The first thing Harry did once inside was to gently lay Snape on the bed in the guest room before he used a warming spell to pad the room. The next thing he had to do was to strip Snape of the black cloak. The snow and cold would have seeped through long ago and it seemed that hypothermia was probably what was causing the bout of unconsciousness, if Snape's light blue shade was anything to go by. Even if it wasn't, as a Healer in training, Harry knew that he still needed to check for any internal injuries.

Harry braced himself. He didn't honestly breathe as he worked on removing first the cloak then the smalls that covered Snape's body. He didn't allow himself to register anything that he saw as he turned Snape this way and that to get at the clothes. It was only when Snape laid naked on Harry's brown cotton sheet, that he allowed himself to face the reality of what laid before him.

Where there should have been smooth pale skin there was mostly only the patch and wrinkle of a body that was badly burned and had healed only from time passing.

It began on the right side of Snape's face. Almost at the exact centre of his forehead, the skin had melted. Along the high cheekbone, across to erase the eyebrow and to meld the eyelid shut, upon what should have been smooth expanses of a cheek it somehow missed the infamous nose and lips.

Somehow beneath the curtain of black hair, it had destroyed the ear, spread along the column of Snape's neck and down the right side of his chest. The right arm and shoulder, was unrecognizeable. The fingers looked separate but seemed useless.

Tapering down just as the ribs beneath it tapered, the burn mark disappeared, only to re-emerge just above the knees of both legs. From that point downwards everything was burned, even the tip of his toes. Turning him over, there was not a patch of skin on Snape's back that had not been scarred. In fact the only expanse of skin that had escaped was the left side of Snape's face his left arm and chest. It was as if the Dark Mark that no longer burned there had indirectly protected the arm from damage.

Harry allowed himself five minutes of absolute guilt and pity to envelope his body. And he didn't try to stop the wave after wave of shivers that ran down his back and shook him all the way down to his bones. It was a normal, human reaction he knew but somehow Snape just seemed so much more brave for all he must have endure.

The moment ended when Snape began to shake.

It began so suddenly that it caught Harry off-guard. Within a minute the seizure had built to a full body spasm that at times, jerked Snape almost entirely into the air. Harry pulled out his wand again and was just about to cast the petrifying spell when he changed his mind and decided that what was best was to allow the body to ride out the reaction.

Instead he left the shaking form to draw up a warm bath quickly.

Grabbing potions at random, he dumped them into the water, all the while trying to remember his training at St. Mungo's of what potions reacted best with each other. Just for good measure he added a drop of alabaster oil to the mix as well. Muggles used it to soothe the nerves and Harry was just hoping that it worked well with the muscle relaxant and warming combination that he was trying to achieve.

A loud noise in the bedroom drew his attention back to his suppose patient.

Harry ran back in, fearing that the worse had happened. In his panic, he was all prepared to find the professor on the ground bleeding from the fall with perhaps a couple of broken bones just for karma's sake. Instead it was only the items on his bedside table that had fallen to the floor. He was relieved to note that the professor was still safely on the bed and the shakes seemed to have calmed to just a constant tremor.

Using his wand, he levitated Snape into the bathroom, praying silently to himself that the water was still warm. He didn't want to throw Snape in hot water and cause sudden thawing because that could very detrimental and he really hadn't brought the wizard to his house just to have him die from hypothermia.

He lowered him down gently.

Kneeling on the cold tile floor, Harry slid his hands under Snape's arms, to keep the unconscious man from sliding beneath the water. He could feel the tremors get less and less violent and soon the damaged skin was no longer blue, but a light shade of pink. Harry's arms began to ache. He rested his forehead on Snape's left shoulder, grateful that the wizard wasn't awake to see himself naked, wet and disabled.

"Maybe I should just work on getting you clean first. I hate to sound shallow, but you reek Professor and not in such a good way. I'll probably need a shower too. You'll be happy to know that in your revenge of my man-handling you, I've managed to soak my shirt right through."

Harry kept up the stream of words as he stretched precariously for the soap and washcloth. Managing to lather it up somehow, he sat for a few seconds pondering how he would bathe Snape while still preventing the former professor from slipping under the water. In the end he had to rely on a wandless levitation spell, earning himself a headache like no other. But at least he was able to comfortably disentangle himself from the slightly floating figure.

Looking on the body, Harry wondered where to begin scrubbing. He didn't want to hurt Snape even if the man was unconscious. He didn't want to scrub too hard for fear that the burns would flake or peal off. If he were anyone else but a Gryffindor he would admit to the terror that burned in the bottom of his stomach, some of which had nothing to do with his fear for causing more injury.

"He's just a man, not a monster," he muttered severely to himself in a voice that reminded him of another voice that once commanded him. "Belt up Potter. Are you a Healer in training or a pathetic eleven year old?"

Taking a deep breath, he got to work. Soon he realized that it stopped mattering that the skin he scrubbed at wasn't smooth and pale as he remembered. The important thing was to be gentle and careful. Harry knew how to have care, so much that it was natural to him. He wasn't fooling himself in thinking that he could be clinical about the task. It was Snape beneath the coarse washcloth and it was Snape that was covered in the burns. He didn't hate the wizard so although he wasn't about to start doting and fawning, he allowed the pity and compassion to wash over him as he cupped small amounts of water in the palm of his hands to trickle gently over the soapy, crinkled skin.

"Alright. This is the best I can get you for today, so let's get you out now," he said softly into the silent room as he drained the tub and towel dried the floating form. "Your temperature seems to be better so I bet you'll just hate waking up to me bathing you. The horror alone would kill you."

He levitated Snape back into the guest room, spent a minute fluffing and stacking the pillows in just the right way before he gently laid Snape down. Then he covered up Snape's nakedness with a thick black blanket.

He was pondering whether or not to cast a drying spell on Snape's damp, but still dirty hair, when the phone began to incessantly ring. Grabbing his wand, Harry quickly turned off the light. Then softly he whispered a quick "Goodnight Professor Snape", before closing the door gently.

He spent a few second cursing whoever had the gall to call at such a late hour of the night as he ran to his room to get to the phone before it woke his new guest.

oXo


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **For as long as he lived Harry was never going to forget the sight of those black eyes in pain. The light hit Snape from the side and then it seemed to cover him as he turned in it to face the boy he had protected so many times before. And it looked like he was melting...

**Author's note: **Be warned...this is one of my pet projects so update may be erratic.

**Author:****_Spirit_**

o

_**The Cinderman's Kiss**_

o

CHAPTER 2

o

Snape was still not up when Harry brought him breakfast the next morning.

Harry checked his pulse to make sure that he was still alive, and found a steady heartbeat. Which of course didn't explain the long stretches of unconsciousness that Snape was tending towards. It sent tiny jolts of fear through Harry as he stood wondering what to do. His healing side prodded him to make use of the stillness and soon he gave over to it in favor of just standing there.

Two hours later, Harry's hands were trembling as he stood over the still unconscious form. Sweat ran like a tributary down the side of his face and his eyes blurred in his exhaustion. The words he muttered had descended into the realm of incoherent rambling. He swayed on his feet but refused to stop.

And again, as soon as he began to focus his healing magic on Snape, the naked form began to violently shake.

Harry stopped, took a deep shaky breath and did a diagnosis scan again.

There was no change. The results were the same as before. Snape's eye and ear were the only parts that the burning was superficial. It was only skin deep, but those burns also mostly rejected the healing. Harry had been so happy when the ear had reconstructed itself and the eye had rejuvinated. The skin had separated to form a clear and distinct eyelid with even long black eyelashes. But that was as good as Harry had gotten. The diagnosis spell assured him that the eye and ear were going to be fine but the skin was still damaged.

The rest of Snape's body had not been so lucky. The burn spell went deep. So much that Harry doubted that even Incendio would have cause so much damage. Snape's throat was a raw and damaged mass. Speech was obviously impossible. As for the rest of the body, muscles were twisted, nerves were only barely functional. The spell had even affected the bones, causing a black scorch-like substance to corrode the white. Harry couldn't believe that Snape was still alive after four years when he couldn't imagine how the man had even managed to move much less other means of survival.

In the light of the day, Harry had also been able to trace the many sores that had broken out on the sunken butt cheeks and his left side. Snape must have crawled on all four limbs for every day of those four years because his knees and palms were bruised and so severely scratched that they were almost unrecognizeable. At least he had been able to heal those wounds, which proved to him that there was nothing wrong with his healing magic. When he started at St. Mungo's he was told that he was a natural at healing magic, but nothing about standing over Snape was pointing to that.

Harry focussed his magic again, concentrated all his post-Voldemort magic into his healing art and tried to blast Snape with all of it.

The room shook. Darkness clouded the air. There was the distinct sound of objects falling and breaking. A bright blue light entombed the pale figure that was lying so still and a wild light illuminated the wizard who stood determined to get his magic to work.

And suddenly his magic broke. Harry collapsed beside Snape on the bed. His palms stung and began to bleed from the magical lacerations that ripped into them. His whole body felt drained and every muscle ached. He wasn't even sure if he would ever again be able to lift his arms. Lying there, breathing heavily as if his lungs had collapsed into something the size of a straw, tears of exhaustion threatened his eyes as guilt and shame overwhelmed him.

"Why...can't I...heal you?" he asked the silent walls and plaster roof a little angrily. "Why can't anything...ever...be easy with you!"

When long cold fingers closed over his arm, Harry startled.

"You're awake!" He swiftly healed his palms and properly caught his breath before turning onto his side so that he could look at his patient. "How are you feeling?"

The fingers retreated as eyelids fluttered. Snape's good hand hovered over the newly repaired eye and slowly he reach out.

Harry caught the hand. "No don't touch it. I'm still very new to the whole reconstructive magic thing. I don't want you to contaminate the magic so don't touch it for at least another half an hour."

The hand that his fingers curled around went rigid at the mention of healing magic, but soon Snape relaxed and his raised arm went limp. Harry released it gently, before groaning very loudly as he raised himself off the bed. He walked around to stand at Snape's other side before leaning over to peer at the newly opened eye.

He drew back quickly, searching Snape's face in his surprise for any discomfort. "Can you see?"

The nod he received was slow. Harry's face clouded with confusion. He reach across to cover the left eye and then raised a finger. Moving it from one side to the next he watched as the right eye followed it perfectly. Up and down seemed to work just as well. And although he got a semi-nasty look when he blew suddenly on it, the eye reacted naturally by tearing up before Snape blinked away the moisture. Which all pointed to the fact that despite Harry's misgiving, the eye was fine.

Harry's face split into a grin and then he chuckled softly. "Well it works, but you're not going to like this Professor. It seems that you've now got yourself a strangely amber colored eye that I think matches really neatly with the other black one."

He got the dirty look again, but no surprise from the other wizard.

"I know you can't speak," Harry said softly after a pause. "I've been studying the healing art for about four years on and off now. I haven't quite mastered it yet, but I'm not too bad at it. I know if you could tell me you'd probably extend your condolence at me actually being good at something other than driving you batty. But anyway, it's not as easy as I thought it would be. Every time I try to heal you your body goes into shock. I just want you to know that this doesn't mean I'm giving up. I'll figure something out Professor. I'll make you better."

The dark eyes seemed to be staring into Harry's soul. He wondered if Snape was still a master Legimens. When the silence became uncomfortable Harry began to fidget, but he kept his mind open to the undetectable prodding. And then the moment ended and Snape seemed to relax. The dark eyes began to drift close.

"No! Professor?" Snape's body went slack.

Harry swore a string of expletives before he once again checked for a pulse. Sighing yet again in relief when he detected a strong one. He spared a second to run his gaze along Snape's diminished form as a plan lighted its way in his head. The burns still hurt Harry to look at but he found that the longer he looked at them was the more objective he could be. And so on conjuring up a thick blade and two flat bottomed flasks, objectively he figured that the best place to nick Snape was on the inner thigh of his right leg. He only hoped that the burn wouldn't prevent him healing the wound afterwards. He hated to have to do it, but he would also need blood from an unaffected area and since ninety percent of Snape's body was affected the one good place was at the inner elbow of the left arm.

He retreated to his study with the bottles of blood and conjured up a magic chemistry lab where he tested the blood with different healing potions and chemical.

One hour later he was looking at vials of the affected area's blood turned every other shade but white. He would have even been happy for a silvery white color like the unaffected area produced under every test. It was hopeless.

Harry snarled loudly and grabbed a handful of the vial before throwing each violently against the wall with a howl of frustration. Then he sank to the cold ground, buried his fingers through his hair, hung his head and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do next.

The answer came to him in the form of his cordless phone.

"Hello?" The voice was far too cheerful on the other end.

"Daryll? I need a favor."

"Harry?" Surprise, then, "What's wrong. You sound sick."

"I'm fine, but I need your help."

"From me? The Muggle?" A fake scoff. "Aren't you the Healer. I never thought the day would come."

"Don't make me beg you arse, just help me."

"Of course I'll help." Gentler now but still not serious. "I don't have to smuggle drugs into England for you though do I, because you know that will take time and maybe a plane and definitely a getaway vehicle..."

"Daryll! Merlin's balls focus would you! I need your professional help."

There was a deep chuckle before a throat was cleared then the voice returned serious but just as kind. "Okay Harry. Dr. Stetingson, physiotherapist, at your service."

The equipment arrived early the next morning just as Daryll promised.

Of course the man had been far too curious to leave well enough alone and had also taken the day off to appease his inquisitive nature. Harry didn't let his surprise show when he opened his front door to see a van parked in his driveway and the good doctor balancing two crutches, an oxygen machine and a walker.

"A little help, eh!"

Harry laughed before silently and wandlessly dropping the protection wards. He only grabbed the pair of crutches -to the obvious disgust of his guest- before he ushered the other man into the house. It took three trips to the rented van and a little bit of magic to get everything into the newly constructed physical training room.

Harry stood at the doorway and looked over everything when they were finished. "Will we really need all this?"

"If you mean to help him the Muggle way then yes you'll need every one of these soon enough." Daryll shrugged.

There were various excercise machines, mats, chairs, tables, standing and sitting equipment, carts, mirrors and screens. There was even a cabinet to the corner of the room that was bare for the moment but Harry felt assured would be filled with potions and salves as soon as he could get Snape to communicate which ones were needed.

"And he'll need a trainer," Harry said thoughtfully, giving his friend an innocent look. "So Daryll how long will you be in England?"

Daryll smirked. "Oh I don't know maybe three more hours and then I'm abandoning your fabulous ass to fly back to Montreal. At which point you'll be left to fend for yourself."

Harry figured that it would be a waste of energy to protest.

"So do you plan on introducing me to him or does this favor of mine just involve flying myself on the first flight out of Canada then buying out half a store in physical therapy equipment here in the UK, all at your whim with nothing to show for it?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come then. You may as well see him."

Snape was still sleeping when they entered the room, but Harry had given up on being too worried. In the thirty four hours since Harry had found him, the wizard had improved enough that he was able to stay awake for at least an hour at a time now.

The Muggle examination ensued as Daryll wanted to see for himself what Harry had gotten himself into. Halfway into the physical, Snape's mismatched eyes opened into an instant scowl, but as soon as Harry introduced his friend he relaxed and allowed the Muggle doctor to prod and poke him.

"Shall we compare notes?" Daryll asked cheerfully once he was finished. Harry drew him a chair from midair before taking a seat beside his patient on the bed. "Severe malnutrition. It's what was causing the unconscious spells, but I expect you figured that out. I'd equate his injuries to that of a quadroplegic if it wasn't for the lack of spinal damage. Not that this is any blessing with the severe muscle damage."

"I can fixed that," Harry said quickly into the pause. He tried to ignore the way Snape was looking at him in disbelief. "Just as soon as I figure out the spell I'll need to use."

Daryll gave him a brilliant smile. "Right then. So as soon as you do that you can start on the physiotherapy. His muscles will be weak so go slowly. In fact, call me when you work out what magic you'll use and I'll tell you what sorts of excercise to work with. Voice training will be a little tricky once his throat heals, I should tell you from now. I'll floo over here as much as I can. I expect mom will be tickled pink to be able to open up a floo for me. She's already bragging to her friends that I know you on such an intimate level."

He turned to look at the silent professor. "I expect you know my mom? She is the only witch in the family, ever. Would have been in your year at Hogwarts maybe. She went to school with Harry's parents you know. Shanelle LaFlamme. She transferred from Durmstrang to Hogwarts in her second year and was in Hufflepuff."

Snape didn't even need to think about it before he nodded to show that he did indeed remember the witch.

Daryll's smile got even brighter. "Good!"

It was Harry's turn to stare at the professor. He seemed in much better health even though he hadn't been able to hold down solid food. Harry had ordered a nutritional potion from Diagon Alley and had been feeding him steadily with it. In the light of morning his black hair looked limp but it was fanned over his face in such a way that it hid the ugly burn scar. Harry figured that a nice long bath was in order. The thick blankets that Harry had wrapped him in the night before were still drawn taut over the still body. Snape hadn't even moved his one good arm throughout the night.

"Well I'm off then." Daryll's voice broke through Harry's thoughts. He rose from his seat and stretched, gasping only slightly when his chair disappeared from behind him.

He said his goodbye to the professor then quietly asked Harry to walk him out. Harry complied with a nod and a soft reassurance to Snape that he would not be long. They walked to the front door in a companionable silence before pausing at the entrance.

"Are you sure he is who you think he is?" Daryll broke the silence quietly. "The last thing you'll want to do is to pick up a random bum off the street and shock him with your magic."

Harry smiled. "It's him Daryll. I ran enough tests on his blood last night to know just about every secret it holds."

"Alright. Well then I'd give him two or three days before you really start his rehabilitation." The physiotherapist made a face. "Unless of course you have a quick fix with some magical means or another."

"Nope." Harry shook his head. His expression saddened. "I've never seen a homeless wizard in my life. Not around the wizarding world and with a wand. Once you've got magical means you'll never be hungry or without shelter. One wave and an incantation does the trick you know. I don't think St. Mungo's would know what to do with him if I tried to pass him onto them. If I'm going to do this then I'm on my own, but that's alright by me."

"Sometimes I'm glad to be a squib. Can't miss what I never had. I don't even want to imagine the hell he must have gone through for however long he lived on the street. Maybe he still has his wand you know. Maybe that's how he survived."

Harry gave him a pointed look. "Did you spot a wand? Because I sure as hell didn't see any. Nobody willingly allows their body to become malnurished and battered like he is if it can be stopped. Like I said one wave of his wand and certain things can be taken care of. It's why Transfiguration is such a good subject."

Daryll smiled. "Well continue to feed him slowly. His body has to get used to real food again. And you might want to double the bath time you allot him, if you get my gist. I imagine there is about ten layer of dirt caked onto him and just a few wash isn't going to get it all off him. Not to mention his hair."

"Now there is where you can't even see a difference," Harry said with a cheeky grin.

Daryll chose to be more mature and ignore the statement.

"Think he's got worms or lice?" Harry had gone all serious again. "I hate that I can regrow bones overnight and heal wounds but something like that I can't just put my hands over him and get rid of them."

"I'd be surprised if he doesn't have cholera and tubercolosis and malaria. Hell, I'm shocked he still has all his limbs. I mean as useless as they might seem to him, frostbites aren't the prettiest things. I can't imagine how he avoided developing gangrene. He's lucky Harry. If he even has worms, or lice and gingivitis, and is covered in sores he's still lucky. There are so many homeless people who die all alone every day. In North America I swear we don't even see them lying on the streets anymore. It's like they're a part of the scenery." Daryll's chocolate brown eyes darkened as he drifted farther into the realm of his mind. "Do you know how many black men I see on the street every day and I think that could have been me. If I had grown up in the wrong neighborhood and the wrong country, if I didn't have good parents. I bet he never thought he would ever be one of the homeless."

Harry's expression hardened as he too became lost in thought. "He will never be like that again. Ever. Damn it, I won't let it happen. His pride got him this far, well my stubborness will make sure that he doesn't give up until he is well again. I won't stop until he has gained the respect he deserves for the things he did."

"You have such a big heart." Daryll reached up to draw his fingers lightly down Harry's cheek. "Why did we break up again?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Doesn't matter you prat. That's all water under the bridge now. You have Charlene and she's none the wiser that you used to dabble in the dark arts of homosexuality."

"I miss you."

"Everybody misses me." Harry gave him a teasing shove. "It must be my fine looks. But you're in love with someone else so none of that now."

"Doesn't mean I can't miss you." He removed his fingers and instead smiled with mischief. "But I see the way you look at your professor."

"If by that you mean a good bit of respect, then of course. He has saved my life so many times that me helping him is like a drop in the bucket. I'll do whatever I can to save him. I've spent four years looking for him everywhere so it's fate that I saw him and I don't intend to lose him to a stupid curse meant for me. Not after what he's done. I'll work myself into the ground if I have to because I'm not stopping until I heal him."

"You like him," Daryll said softly.

Harry turned a light shade of pink, ducking his head in a moment of rare shyness. "I wanted to, I think. Until he killed the Headmaster and then I hated him. It was like a poison. I wanted to kill him. Then he pulled one over on me and saved my life and I spent all this time thinking about him. I can't believe I found him."

"Like I said, he's lucky." Daryll pulled him into an impulsive hug. "I know you Potter and you're fiercely protective of the people you care about. So call me if I can help you with this."

"Of course," Harry responded as he returned the hug. "You better believe that I will Doctor Stetingson."

oXo


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **For as long as he lived Harry was never going to forget the sight of those black eyes in pain. The light hit Snape from the side and then it seemed to cover him as he turned in it to face the boy he had protected so many times before. And it looked like he was melting...

**Author's note: **Be warned...this is one of my pet projects so update may be erratic.

**Author:** **_Spirit_**

NB - Three pronounciations: _IN-tabesco-pestis_, _INTA-besco-pestis_,_ Intabesco-pestis_. Pick your favorite one. The third one is probably the best as it is the two latin words that make up the name, but I rather like the first as it sounds more exotic.

o

_**The Cinderman's Kiss**_

o

CHAPTER 3

o

**Intabescopestis**

_One of the darker curses to exist, it is said to have been invented in the early fourteenth century by the Dark Wizard Zepherthim. The idea for the curse was brought about by the merging of two basic concepts of tissue degeneration. One from which the Maximus Incendio spell was later derived as the burning spell (see pages 213-219). The Intabescopestis curse causes massive corrosion of the epidermis making this outer layer of the skin burn a light red glow upon impact. It is this glow which is absorbed by the flesh to break down the structures of muscles to an almost liquid form which only later solidifies into a mass of twisted ligaments and tendons (as shown in Fig. 2.5 and Illust. 22). These muscles are not dead tissues as they are still able to react to extreme hot or cold temperatures, even though organized movement is of course beyond the capabilites of the affected wizard. It is also useful to note that Intabescopestis does not cause damage to nerve cells and the Healer treating this case should therefore be careful not to administer potions containing saccarine or asphodel as these merely heighten nerve sensitivity which results in the patient seizuring on digestion..._

"Well that helped," Harry said with a tinge of disgust in his voice. "Nothing on how to heal the curse but a good bit on something I've already tried and figured out myself. Mind you I didn't think you could drink any healing potion so it's good to know that once you've put on a little more weight I can start shoving vile liquids at random down your throat. You'd bloody love that wouldn't you?"

The wizard beside him did not respond in the slightest to Harry's little diatribe, even as the younger wizard dropped the heavy book he had been perusing, onto the floor. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if the curse had not gone to the man's brain. Surely someone couldn't sit so still for so long without being catatonic, but that theory would have only worked for others. And if Harry didn't know better - and with this wizard he really didn't - he'd say his ex-professor was pulling a silent pouting act. Well Harry had had enough.

"Oh for God's sake!" He retorted into the silence. "Show a little care would you. I'm only trying to save your miserable life! Can't you give me something to work with?"

An amber eye and a distorted face turned to him. Snape glared a rather eloquent but silent 'fuck off, Potter' that there was no mistaking, before he turned away again to stare upon the ceiling in ridiculous fascination.

"Ungrateful prat," Harry mumbled. "There's no winning with you is there?"

He reached across to yank the covers off the silent figure, glaring just as hotly back when the amber and black eyes threw him a look worthy of hell. The thin body shivered in the cold air of the room and Harry had to bite his tongue not to silently cast a warming spell. More importantly, the man reeked and that definitely had to be taken care of quickly.

"I might as well give you your bath now. It's almost time for your lunch potion and I've got to run over to my uni for a bit. It's the last day to see my Psych professor before Christmas hols begin. You wouldn't want me missing that now would you?" When there was only silence, Harry made a face. "I thought not."

Despite his annoyance he was very gentle in peeling away the boxer shorts that Snape wore as his only stitch of clothing. He was equally as kind on wrapping Snape's good arm around his shoulder so that on slipping his arms beneath the twig figure he could cause as little jolt as possible when he lifted Snape into his arms.

"You weigh a ton Professor," he said dryly as he strolled over to the bathroom. "What will I do when you throw out my back one of these days? However will I manage? Feathers have nothing on you."

He wasn't expecting the sharp tug on his hair that followed, which was so painful that it snapped his head backwards. After he got over the shock however he found that he could only react in the most unexpected way. He almost dropped the bundle in his arms as a peal of laughter erupted from deep inside of him. It washed over him cleansing him of the fear and guilt he had been subjecting himself to since the moment Snape had taken the curse for him.

"Vindictive aren't we?" He mock scowled at the mismatched eyes that gazed half lidded up at him. "You'll pay for that one."

He lowered Snape into the bath of warm water and spices. Surprisingly he didn't flinch when he watched the semi-opaque liquid lap against the light brown tinges that snaked and curved over the previously pale skin. The burns were just a part of Snape's body more and more now.

"Did I ever tell you how much I hated silence Professor?" Harry reached for the bar of soap and the washcloth. "When I was little and was locked in my cupboard I use to think I'd go mad from all the silence. Let me tell you, I spent a good part of my childhood talking to myself just to fill the silence. I feel like I'm going haywire having only my thoughts to keep me company."

Harry paused his little speech just long enough to realize that Snape was ignoring him yet again. It didn't matter though because Harry had a plan. One for which he was sure the wizard in his care was going to curse him sideways for as soon as he cast it, but it was something he was willing to risk.

"That being said..." Harry swiped the washcloth over long thin legs and quickly over Snape's penis and balls before he scrubbed gently on the lower abdomen beneath poking ribs and then at the flat chest with it's single surviving nipple. "Cogito Autumo!"

There was silence for a very long time. Then suddenly there wasn't anymore.

'Potter, you idiot, why did you not think to do this before?'

Snape's voice in Harry's head was just the way Harry remembered it to be, harsh and soft and silky and calm with an edge of steel. It resonated in his mind and Harry was finally able to release the breath he had been holding because no matter what he had said, this was the only way to know that the man before him really was the infamous Severus Snape.

'I could have been any number of miscreant. What if I were a Death Eater using Polyjuice? Or a stray Muggle bearing a resemblance? Does your foolish Gryffindor courage have no sense of caution? Or do you believe yourself to be invincible now that the Dark Lord is gone?'

"I gave you your ability to communicate again, I can take it back you know," Harry muttered aloud because the spell did not work both ways and there was no way to actually tune out the lecture he was being subjected to.

He worked his way though rinsing Snape off and then vindictively getting shampoo in the wizard's dark eye before the words in his mind finally drew to a close and he could think properly again. It was much easier after that to finish the bath in the eerie silence that followed after all the talking.

Harry waited until he had the other wizard wrapped in a huge white towel and cradled gently in his arms again before he allowed the smile he had been hiding to grace his face. Now that the immediate time of urgency seemed to have passed with the thirty eight hours, it was very strange to realize the sort of situation they were in. Snape was really at his mercy, and all seriousness aside, he wondered how the proud Slytherin would take their reversal of role.

'Drop me Potter and I will make you regret the use of _your_ legs.'

Or maybe not so much a reversal afterall.

"I think I liked you silent," Harry said pointedly. "If I haven't dropped you in two days I'm hardly likely to drop you today, am I?"

'Polite as always I see.'

Harry held in the curse that rose to his mind in response to that. Instead he lowered Snape gently onto the bed, being very careful not to linger as he dressed the semi-scowling figure. Now that Snape was conscious enough to watch him, Harry felt a little uneasy with the naked form stretched out before him. Although, Snape didn't really seem to care much about his own nakedness.

"If you need anything give a signal and Dobby will get it for you," Harry instructed softly when Snape was dry, relatively clean and tucked into bed once more. "I really have to go or I'll miss my meeting with the professor."

'Where did you get a Dobby?'

Harry smiled. "He's an house-elf, sir."

'I am aware,' came the less than tolerant response. 'I only meant, where exactly did you happen to find yourself one in a Muggle house, if I'm not mistaken.'

Harry ran his fingers through his hair in futile hopes of taming it, conjured a clean pair of sock in the air then proceeded to hop on one foot as he fought to get it on. He tried to cast a silent spell -wand waving frantically about in the other hand- to magically change his clothes, and almost ended up entangled in a black sweater and a pair of blue jeans when he gazed at the clock on the wall to see that five minutes had already flown by.

"I don't have time to explain Dobby right now." His voice was a little impatient and a lot muffled but somehow he got the words to be coherent. "Just know that he's here and he's willing to help. Bang two times on something and he'll get the message."

He paused long enough to give the silent wizard a nervous smile. "I'll see you later then professor. And believe it or not, I'm glad it really is you. I mean what would I have done with some random bum bearing a resemblance to you, except maybe give him my condolence? Imagine the poor sod."

It was interesting to know, as he ran from the room, that being out of earshot of the man did not mean he got a reprieve. Snape steadily cursed him all the way to the bus stop and all Harry could do was to grin and ignore the tingles in the pit of his stomach.

o

Harry was tired when he finally apparated to the front steps of his home.

So tired in fact that he would have sworn that there was a good possibility he had splinched and left a piece of himself behind. It wouldn't have surprised him that much actually. The meeting with his Psych professor had taken longer than he planned and for all his twenty-one years and great achievements, he found that he still couldn't just impolitely tell the man to get to his point quickly because he had something bigger to worry about.

Snape had gone silent in his mind for about three hours, which could only mean he was either dead or unconscious.

"Harry Potter, so good you come home now sir." Dobby met Harry at the door, dressed in a trailing table towel, twisting the end into a tight knot and looking as if he had a run in with a briar patch. "He is not be moving sir and Dobby tries everything. He says he won't be needing help. Dobby is so sorry Harry Potter."

"It's okay, I'll go see. Thanks Dobby!" Harry was already halfway up the staircase by the time he heard the house-elf apparate.

"Professor?" he called out.

The door to the guest room was drawn shut but on frantically trying the knob he realized that it was not latched. Swinging it wildly open, Harry's heart pounded as he envisioned the horror he was about to see.

"LEAVE ME!"

The words shot through Harry's head. They were so loud and powerfully shouted that Harry physically stumbled backwards from the impact. Stars swam before his eyes and he grabbed at his temple, trying desperately to still the instant headache. Leaning against the doorframe he fought against the looming darkness and just managed not to pass out from the pain.

Then he focussed on Snape again.

The man looked like a broken doll, twisted in strange little angles, at the foot of the bed. How he got there was anyone's guess, but from the gash at the side of his face, Harry figured that he had probably rolled off the bed and maybe crawled. Which didn't make all that much sense actually. The wound was not bleeding even though it looked deep enough. Which was a sure sign that Dobby had probably been made to wrestle with Snape's good arm before succeeding in getting it to stop bleeding. This probably explained how the little house-elf had ended up looking so scruffy. In any event Snape was just lying there all twisted and obviously left to wallow in his misery. Well Harry was going to have none of that.

"How the hell did you get like this?" he asked.

Only to be met with words being shouted in his head once more. 'I SAID TO LEAVE!'

Harry refused to cower. It was perfectly okay for Snape to indulge in a bit of self-pity, but he wasn't about to be yelled at like a schoolboy in his own home. He had come a long way since Hogwarts and the last thing he wanted was to be ordered about. Obviously compassion didn't work too well with the man and so Harry decided to forgo the idea of being too gentle.

"Don't talk to me like I'm nine Professor. I am not a child and worse I'm not your bloody child so don't bloody yell at me like you think you own me or this house."

He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the broken wizard with a look that warned of the infamous power he held that had aided in killing one of the worst dark lords.

"You want to stay there and feel sorry for yourself then that's just dandy, but for all intent and purposes you are my patient. I have done everything I can think of to take care of you so far and although it may not seem like a lot, the least you could be is grateful. I'm not going to stand here and have you act all high and mighty. So no I won't leave! What I'm going to do is to move you back onto the bed where you should have parked your arse in the first place, and then I'm going to get you something to drink because you need to bloody calm down. And you better still be in the damn bed when I get back."

A flick of his wand and the right incantation gently lifted the silent man into the air. Another flick sent him floating over the bed where he was lowered amidst soft sheet. Harry moved over to tuck him in. He was still furious and had developed a migraine from the indiscriminate shouting that Snape had used. He needed a drink laced with calming potion too, but his patient was his top priority. So he tucked the sheets around the still body and fluffed the pillow and stroked his hand over the pucked wound to close it, before checking for any other signs of bruise or broken bone. When he was finished healing all that he could heal -glad there were no broken parts- he released a long suffering sigh and looked at the mismatched eyes that stared out at him.

"I'll be back then," he said softly. His anger drained out of him, leaving him with just a sense of compassion and a little bit of pain for the wizard who had hurt so much. "Just rest."

Harry returned to the room a few minutes later to be met by the same suffocating silence. Snape hadn't moved at all. Instead he laid staring up at the roof, tracing the white space with his roving eyes. He didn't turn his head in Harry's direction as he sometimes did. Instead it was as if he was ignoring Harry, which was perfectly understandable to the younger wizard actually.

"Want me to prop you up?" Harry helped Snape to wrap his fingers around the bottle of water. Snape had regained enough strength to be able to steadily hold things without slopping food or drink all over the place and the man would probably take enough offense at the straw floating in the liquid anyway.

'I can't drink this,' Snape said softly as he handed the bottle back to Harry. 'It would seem, Potter that I no longer have the ability to control my neck. I can't swallow voluntarily. I haven't a clue as to how I'm even breathing. I suppose that come tomorrow I won't be able to on my own."

Harry couldn't think of a single thing worth saying, but Snape just kept on with the soft words in his head.

"I know that you are unfamiliar with the curse. This morning having you read, told me enough to see that until now you had probably never even heard of it. Let me save you some time then. Intabescopestis causes paralysis in the affected area. In some wizards it takes minutes while in others it takes years. People usually only gets hit in their arm or legs and most are treated soon after. As you well know, I am the unfortunate soul who got emersed in it. I don't need your pity or your sympathy on this. You and I both know my reasons for stepping in front of you as I did. It is only that I fought for years now against the quadraplegic paralysis I knew was coming. It wasn't always like this. At first it was just the burns and I could live with them. When I could hold my wand I was able to cast spells that allowed me to be fully functional. I lost my left leg first. That did not stop me. I could cast concealment spells and work in Muggle shops to earn a living.

I don't know when my back left me. I just woke up one day and could not feel it. When my right leg gave out, I floated. I fought for my right hand as it is my wand hand. I think sheer will prevented it from going limp those first two years. Even when I could no longer bend my waist I still projected a glamour of being whole. And then one day the end had come. On my way back to the little flat I rented my arm went numb and my wand slipped from my fingers and rolled away. I crumbled upon filthy concrete. How I survived that year is beyond me. I have intimate knowlege of what dirt tastes like, of what filth smells like and of how hard it is to pull oneself around by one's arm to go anywhere.

And now I've lost my ability to move my neck. It seems a bit small compared to everything else. Strangely enough I had always thought my face should have been the first to give in. I'm hardly vain and it is the one part of me I don't care much about going numb. But alas Fate has deemed it the gift of outshining the rest of me.'

Harry reached out blindly through the tears that swelled in his eyes. He grabbed Snape's good hand and cradled the fingers in his palm. The heat of it was comforting. The way the fingers twitched before Snape curled them around Harry's fingers to return the grasp made Harry grateful that at least the man was not entirely broken.

'I tell you this so that you may understand my actions today. I meant no disrespect Potter. You have shown far more kindness than I deserve and should you decide that I am too much of a bother then I will graceously accept that decision. The last thing you need is to feel indebted to me and so I release you from your wizard's bond and all obligations. I am useless in my current state. It would have been better if you had left me on the street to die in the cold."

Harry's fingers tightened into a grip. "Stop that. I don't think it would have been better at all. Release me from the bond if you want, but I'm not sending you back out there. I'll make the cure. I know I suck at potions but you don't and I know that if there is a potion out there that can help you then you'll figure it out. I'll go research some more. I'll ask the other Healers at St. Mungo's how to proceed, but I'm not going to abandon you and I'm not leaving you wallow in misery. We'll work on this together professor. We'll come up with something."

They were left in one of those awkward moments where there was nothing else that they could say to each other just yet. Snape had bared his soul. Harry had sworn to fix him. They had made an unspoken promise to each other to not let the other down.

"I'll be back soon then. I have to make a few phone calls, to get something..." Harry cleared his throat as his words trailed off. He untangled his fingers, running them down the side of his pants in a touch of embarassment. "I'll come back and check on you later. Try to sleep."

He waited until Snape's eyelids fluttered close before he beat a hasty retreat out of the room. He hoped that the store was still open as he couldn't call for Darren's help again.

He was hoping to get a sip/puff electric wheelchair as it had one of those straw mechanism that made it move without any able-bodied assistance.

o

Harry spent the rest of the evening doing what he should have done from the very beginning and that was to really research the curse.

He sat in his study at a desk he usually conjured when he had a whole lot of readings to do for his Psychology courses. Or if he was given a particularly challenging scenario by his Healing-mentor to figure out. He always liked those. The fact that Snape's situation was no case-study that had already been solved, made him that much more involved. It didn't take long for him to have a pile of books and scrolls taking up elbow space and another eight that were covered in notes he had taken down.

When he finally resurfaced it was only because his stomach was complaining from lack of food and he figured that he should check in on Snape.

Harry began to close the mixture of Muggle and Wizard text books. He had found some pretty good information on quadroplegics and sip/puff wheelchairs but the potions and healing spells he had found was what he wanted to concentrate his efforts on. Afterall he was aiming for a cure not just a convenient means of allowing Snape to live with the curse. He stacked his notes into a neat little pile and placed a few of the scrolls in close vicinity of his findings. That way he figured that he could put in a little more work later when everything was settled for the night.

A quick check of the time told him that Snape was probably feeling peckish also.

Thinking about Snape forced Harry to remember the wizard and not the patient that the man was. Flicking his wand to turn off the lights and close the door, Harry found himself wondering about what Snape had told him earlier. He wondered what it must be like to wake up one day perfectly able to nod and turn his head this way and that, only to have it all go numb a few hours later. He wondered what it must have been like every day for Snape to face such mornings knowing -and being painfully proven right- that another muscle would be checking out of his body and there was no telling if it would ever be able to be fully restored to normal.

Pushing open the door to the guest room to gaze at the unmoving figure on the bed, Harry took a deep silent breath and swore to whatever deity was listening that for this man who had done something so selfless and brave for him, he would not stop until he had paid back the honor in spades.

oXo

**Glossary** (from the 'Glossary of Latin Terms' online)

_Intabesco_ - to melt or whither away gradually.

_pestis_ - pest, pestilence, plague; destruction, ruin; curse, bane.

_Cogito_ - to turn over in the mind, to think, reflect; thoughts, reflections, ideas.

_Autumo_ - to say, assert.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **For as long as he lived Harry was never going to forget the sight of those black eyes in pain. The light hit Snape from the side and then it seemed to cover him as he turned in it to face the boy he had protected so many times before. And it looked like he was melting...

**Author's note: **Be warned...this is one of my pet projects so update may be erratic.

**Author:** **_Spirit_**

o

_**The Cinderman's Kiss**_

o

CHAPTER 4

o

Harry woke up early the next day and made his way to his guest room.

He wanted to begin a steady routine in this early stage, especially since Snape was now in a state of complete paralysis, save for his abdomen and left arm. This would probably be them at their worst. Harry had searched every medical, magical and malicious text he could find. He had owled St. Mungo's in the middle of the night and was expecting a response soon. It wasn't as if the cure did not exist. Intabescopestis was an old curse and Healers had been treating it for longer than Harry had been alive. The only complication was time. Most people were treated as soon as the curse hit them. Snape had not been granted that privilege as from the sound of it, he would not have been easily accepted anywhere in the wizarding world long enough to gain the ingredients. At least, that was what Harry was willing to believe.

Before he got to worrying about curses and cures however, there were a few things that had to be taken care of. Harry had waited long enough. Now that Snape was fast recovering from his malnutrition and was able to remain conscious, a nice long bath was in order without the fear of the wizard slipping into unconsciousness and drowning. A real bath, where for once the bath water would be transparent instead of a murky grey colour. Although, truth be told Snape smelled a hell of a lot better than he did when Harry had first found him. But his hair and his nails could definitely do with a bit of pampering.

Harry planned to dedicate twenty-four hours to making Snape look and feel like a passable human being.

"Day three and we're both still sane. Good morning professor," he said softly as he entered the guest room and approached the still figure.

Automatically he leaned over to rest his head on Snape's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat beneath his ear and he sighed in relief at the gentle rise of the chest that he felt. He would have to turn Snape unto his back later to listen to his lungs without the distracting sound of heartbeats, but from what he could hear and feel, Snape's breathing seemed normal. There were no hitches in his breathing and Harry hoped that this wasn't the calm before a storm as he didn't want Snape to suddenly asphyxiate any time in the day.

But everything seemed okay.

Snape was wakening. Harry could feel the other wizard's consciousness reassert itself as sleep made way for waking. Harry may not have been able to see Snape's dreams but the sense he got was that the dreams were not the most comfortable. The aura that the dreams had, left Harry feeling as if there were sharp edges grazing his mind. He was glad when the feeling faded.

'Good morning Potter,' Snape said softly, not giving away whether he was responding to Harry's earlier comment or if he really had not heard.

Harry stepped away a little to peer down at him. For one brief second he got the urge to reach down and caress the side of Snape's face in a soothing gesture. But, he quickly quelled that desire as he was fairly certain that Snape would not look kindly upon him pawing at his face.

"How are you feeling today?" Harry asked instead.

'I am well,' Snape answered, which brought a smile to Harry's lips as the words flowed silkily through his mind.

"Good!"

Harry's smile became a grin as he pulled out his wand and a few tiny items from his pockets. With a wave of his wand he resized the various things. Soon after which he dumped the lot on Snape's lap.

"Want to sit up a bit?"

Snape did not respond so Harry took the silence to mean consent.

Harry slipped his arms beneath Snape's arms. He grunted loudly as he tugged the still figure upright and into his embrace. Snape wrapped his left arm around Harry's shoulder as his head fell forwards upon the other shoulder. It took a fair bit of maneuvoring but Harry managed to slip around Snape's lithe body -still keeping a firm grasp- to sit behind Snape on the bed. He finally pulled Snape up between his legs and propped up the wizard against his chest then draping one arm across the thin shoulders to allow Snape's chin a place to rest upon.

"Is this okay?" he finally asked softly. "I'm not choking you am I? That wouldn't be good if I am."

'No...I am...fine.'

"Alright then," Harry responded to that, softly.

He untangled the arm that he had holding Snape around the waist, to tuck away limp hair behind the shell of the wrinkled right ear. He shifted Snape a bit so that he could rest his head on Snape's shoulder in order to see the items that lay strewn on the sheet that covered them.

Then he spent a moment trying not to dwell on the fact that by God it felt good to hold this man in his arms in this way.

"So which would you prefer..." He grabbed two of the bottles and held them up so that Snape could read the labels that he had put on them. "The laxative. Or, this nasty tasting concoction of Daryll's that will have you puking up your guts and everything in it from just one sip. And believe me it works. The bugger tricked me into drinking it once. I was sick for hours. I still owe him for that little present actually."

He dropped the bottles when he felt something weak but discernable brush through his thoughts. It felt a bit like sadness and embarrassment. Harry clamped down on it, knowing instinctively that Snape wouldn't like that his magic was so strong that he was hearing more than just the other wizard's voluntary thought-speech.

"After which we have these." He grabbed one bottle and then another in a jerky movement that was the only indication of his discomfort in what he was feeling from the man in his embrace. "Shampoo. Conditioner. There is a...uh...comb...here somewhere. We'll have to comb your hair first before we wash it."

The emotions intensified suddenly, so much that it wasn't just light flickers he was feeling now. It was instead a ball of emotions that swirled confusingly but so strong that they were painful to Harry to feel as they brushed by. Snape's left arm that had been resting carelessly on the bed, tensed enough that his fingers curled into a slow fist around the blanket.

Yet, Snape's voice in Harry's head was just as soft as always.

'Purgatives for internal parasites and sanitizers for my external ones. Should I take the hint and assume that my current state offends you?'

There was a thick blanket of silence between them before Harry found the words he needed to speak again.

"Sorry," he finally whispered, dropping the hair products on the box marking the antibacterial soap. "We don't have to do this. I just thought that it might help."

This time there was a tiny thread of shame projected almost imperceptibly from the wizard in his grasp, before Snape's thought and feelings went completely silent. Harry almost gasped aloud at the suddenly coldness that his mind was subjected to. It was a feeling he had only just experienced that one time before, and he didn't like it any more now than he did then.

"Don't shut me out," he whispered softly, so desperate that he said the thought that rose to his lips. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad or dirty. I don't care. Really, I don't."

And in the silence that he followed, Harry wondered when Severus Snape had been elevated from an evil wizard who deserved what he got, to a man worthy of his rambled desires.

'It has been too long since I was worthy of kindness,' came the very, very soft response.

Harry felt something inside of him ache at the words. How many times had he felt unworthy of kindness and had been shown it? With Hagrid who had rescued him? With Remus who had guided him? Sirius who had loved him? Dumbledore who had protected him? Ron? Hermione? All these people in his life he always had no matter what he ever did and although some had died they had died with his love and devotion. But Snape had been alone, maybe for longer than even the four years he had spent shunned from the only world he had known.

"For what you did and the things you sacrificed for me and this world, you deserve more than kindness Professor," Harry said quietly in the shell of a damaged ear, against a marred and discoloured cheek. "I owe you my life, but since I cannot give you that then I will give you your life back in payment and I can't do that until I fix you a little at a time."

'Fix me...' The words faded slowly as if they were a combination of Snape's thoughts and wishes. 'Perhaps I am too broken to be fixed and too damaged to be healed.'

Harry's free arm snaked around Snape's waist as it had originally. He didn't leave himself time to ponder on what the older wizard would think about being held so intimately by one who probably up until the minute Harry had rescued him off the streets, had thought of Harry as only a student and a nuisance and a brat.

He wanted to hold him though, and maybe lend his strength. No one deserved to think himself beyond hope or redemption. Not even an ex-Death Eater or an ex-murderer like Snape.

"Then who better to mend you Professor, than the boy whose life you saved?" Harry asked, not really expecting a response but knowing he would not be given the last word with this wizard.

'No. No longer a child, Potter. You are grown up now. Finally.'

Harry wondered if there was a smile hidden in the words he was hearing, but he couldn't see Snape's face to tell and the words flowed too neutral in his mind to decifer. They made him smile however, and blush. He tried to hide his pleasure by reaching for the bottles on the bed again.

But somewhere in their conversation, they both knew that they had reached a understanding and perhaps after all their years of not liking or accepting each other, they had finally formed a truce that would last.

o

"Hello?"

"You wanker!"

Cradling the phone between his cheek and shoulder, Harry slipped out of the guest room as quietly as he could. Leaving the door only slightly open so that he would be aware should Snape need him, Harry sat with his back against the opposing wall with his knees tucked up near his chest. Finally he was able to properly hold the phone in his hand again.

"You haven't spent enough time in England to start yapping like a Brit you idiot," he growled into the phone but the grin on his face was no doubt being transferred along the phone line.

"Hey! I spent three years in England. I can talk like anyone I want."

Harry laughed. "Yes, three years and you learned nothing. You couldn't even twist your tongue to learn the bloody dialect and now that you're back in Canada you decide that you'll have a go at it?"

"Play nice, you prat," Daryll responded in an amazingly good fake British accent. "After two years I'm still the only ex-boyfriend you talk to. That can change."

"Now why is that?" Harry's voice softened as he smiled.

Daryll's voice did too as he spoke again. "Because I keep you sane and make you forget that to a good bit of the hidden population you're not just some average guy walking around England. You're the great Harry Potter and even Ron and Hermione forget to shove that point home once in a while."

"Yeah, thanks for that."

"Seriously though." Daryll's voice became a little more serious. "How is he?"

"Clean?"

"Harry."

Harry sighed, but he was smiling again. From the crack of the door he could just see Snape's still figure lying where he had left him on the bed. He was sleeping now because they had a long day. When Harry had thought up his brilliant plan of cleaning Snape up he had not remembered that doing things the Muggle way took that much longer than magic ever did. But there had only been so many things that wand waving covered and the rest had been done the old fashion way.

"What else do you want to hear? I spent the whole day watching him hurl in a bucket while I tried not to let him suffocate and then I washed him. Then we had a quiet moment where I brushed his hair until it shone and felt like heaven between my fingers. When we were finish I convinced him to take a nap because he looked pale and I didn't want him to wear himself out because you know his body is still recovering. So I'm listening to him sleep now. Which I might add, you almost woke him when you rang."

"And that's why you haven't called me all day to give me a progress report?"

"Yes." Harry nodded even though he knew that Daryll wouldn't see. "That's why I didn't call. I was busy."

"Well that's good then."

Harry made a snorting sound. "It's good that I forcefully made him sick all day and then I watched him vomit wreathing, crawling things that doesn't belong inside someone before convincing little bugs to give up their home on his scalp? It's good that I took this wizard who I have always seen as proud and unbreakable and stubborn as shit to sit in my arms embarrassed as hell and so ashamed that I could feel his disgust about himself seeping from him like waves in my mind?"

The silence that came after that was abrupt, as if Harry had snapped the air in two when he finally stopped speaking long enough to calm down. He wondered briefly what Daryll was doing on his end of the line. Perhaps he was glaring at his phone in surprise. Harry wondered if he should start grovelling immediately for the angry tone he had used.

"I love that you do this," Daryll said gently, erasing all of Harry's fears that an apology was expected. "You know I didn't mean that it's good that you got revenge or whatever. Just that you're connecting with him and you're making him respect you. And it really is nice that you're not letting your past dictate how you treat him. From what I know about him he isn't the most loved wizard and you weren't exactly his favourite pupil. And I really do love that you let yourself care, even when the person you're caring for treated you like sewage for six years of your life."

"Didn't mean to snap, mate," Harry murmured. "Just a bit scared. I got the report I asked about from St. Mungo's and can I just say that the cure for this thing is no small order. There are ingredients in it that I have never heard about in my grown life and with my past that's bloody impressive. And I'll have to scrap half of it anyway because of the time delay from the curse. I might even have to break it into stages and have maybe three or four different potions instead of one. You know I'm rubbish at Potions. I'm going to make an arse of myself trying to impress a Potions Master by making from scratch the potion he needs to save his life."

"Good thing I'm not there then." Daryll was grinning again. Harry could just hear the mischief in the other man's voice. "It would probably not go over too well if you had me there laughing at you every step of the way."

Harry growled something that wasn't very nice, but it only made Daryll laugh on his end of the line.

"And on that note, I'll leave you to your spells and disabled patient," Daryll said in a voice that could melt butter with it's false pleasantness. "I'll call you again tomorrow if I'm not too busy."

Harry smiled, loving the way he could have these insane conversations with such a good friend. "You do that, because you know I'll be too busy to even remember you exist and we wouldn't want you going through withdrawal from me too soon."

"Ass."

Harry chuckled. "I thought you loved my arse as much as I loved yours."

"Get off my phoneline Potter. I'm hanging up on you now."

Harry laughed again as the connection went dead in his hand and all he was left with was the dull buzz of the dial tone and the feeling that after the tiring day he had, it was nice to relax a little.

o

"Harry Potter, sir? Dobby is leaving now."

Considering that Harry hadn't even known that Dobby was there -something which Harry had a suspicion that Dobby had realized and seemed damn proud about- he could only manage a very distracted and confused sounding response.

"Oh...okay."

"Dobby will return again soon." The house-elf gave an impressive bow with the top of his tea-cozy sweeping the floor. "Is Harry Potter wanting anything at Hogwarts, sir?"

Harry shook his head, smiling at the smiling elf at his feet.

Sitting at Snape's bedside, Harry had been previously lost in thought as he watched the slight rise and fall of the hollowed looking abdomen. Snape was breathing on his own. Still. It was baffling but neither of them had mentioned it all day. Secretly Harry was keeping his fingers crossed and hoping that it meant that the inner muscles of Snape's neck had remained unaffected. Before Snape had been convinced to go to sleep Harry had tried to get him to drink something, but the drink had gone in and dribbled out. He just could not swallow. Sooner or later he was going to have to either invent a spell or run a feeding tube to Snape's stomach to figure out another way of getting food in.

Which was exactly why he had been so lost in time when Dobby popped into the room.

"You should probably just get back before McGonagall thinks I'm starting my own little house-elf revolution. Hermione would love that. McGonagall...not so much."

Dobby nodded enthusiastically. "Dobby can leave for now. Harry Potter is not alone any longer."

That got Harry's attention. He gave the house-elf a mingled look of surprise and curiosity. Dobby had been there when he had just gotten the house a few months after killing Voldemort. Afterall the house-elf had been adamant that should Harry need anything he was always willing to help. At that time it had just been the two of them. But Dobby had also been there enough times to spy the overnight-friends each morning as they would leave. He had never mentioned them of course, but Harry just always assumed that Dobby must have come to the realization that Harry had 'friends' in abundance. Even if all that had been two years. But it wasn't as if he was missing out on having regular friends over, either.

He decided to let that issue go when he realized that Dobby had climbed onto the bed and was staring down at Snape with a look on his face that wasn't very pleasant.

"Nasty wizard," the house-elf muttered.

Harry immediately felt a stream of indignation rise within him at the words. Without thinking, he allowed his anger to show as words of defence rose to his lips. "Dobby, he is my patient. I know that you recognize him but I won't have you saying that in my house. You'll respect him and treat him -"

But before he could finish, Dobby had hopped off the bed again and he proceeded to kiss the toes of Harry's socked feet. When Harry pulled his feet away in surprise, Dobby took a flying leap towards one cornered edge of the bed, no doubt intending to give his head a solid pounding. Harry just barely caught him in time.

"Dobby didn't mean this wizard Harry Potter!" the house-elf wailed. "Dobby doesn't listen to his own words. Stupid Dobby! Stupid Dobby! Dobby meant the other wizard who Harry Potter killed. He is the nasty wizard using nasty curses."

Harry suddenly realized what Dobby was saying and he immediately felt his cheeks redden with shame.

"I'm sorry Dobby. Of course you wouldn't be saying something bad about Snape in front of me." He tried to pat Dobby's head awkwardly but it only seemed to result in the house-elf bumping his head repeatedly on Harry's knees.

Not that Dobby seemed to mind as he was quickly beaming from ear to ear. "No need to say sorry, Harry Potter. Not to Dobby."

And Harry smiled back. The two of them had really formed a weird little friendship filled with blind devotion on Dobby's part and exasperating moments where Harry was always in need of quick reflexes. But Dobby had been with him in one way or another for all these years, and he couldn't help thinking that maybe he owed the little house-elf a lot more than Dobby owed him, by now.

"Why is he still breathing Dobby?" Harry asked softly as both their gazes fell on the sleeping wizard on the bed. "He can't eat but he can breathe. I'm grateful that it's not the other way around but he'll become malnourished again soon if I can't feed him. If I can figure out how he's still breathing then I can use that to think of a way to get him to swallow."

"Perhaps Harry Potter should get help now," Dobby said giving Harry a strangely intense look. "If Harry Potter cannot fix the professor for now. Harry Potter should ask for help."

Harry considered that. He was taking the discussion very seriously as he often found himself doing with the house-elf sometimes. And so of course the option remained open that Harry didn't have to do everything on his own. Maybe the other healers at St. Mungo's had a temporary remedy. Maybe he should try wrestling a serious discussion with Daryll again.

"Thanks Dobby. It does make sense to bring some other more experienced healers in to see him." Harry gave a brief nod of approval.

Dobby seemed to light up like a christmas tree but all he said wisely was, "Dobby has to go now Harry Potter."

And that left Harry lost in thought again as he stared at Snape's still figure on the bed.

oXo


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **For as long as he lived Harry was never going to forget the sight of those black eyes in pain. The light hit Snape from the side and then it seemed to cover him as he turned in it to face the boy he had protected so many times before. And it looked like he was melting...

**Author's note: **Be warned...this is one of my pet projects so update may be erratic.

**Thank: Ook** for the shaviing, **Jadzia 7667** for the IV drip and **Superbondo** for the feeding tubes (PEG - percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy. NG - nasal gastric.) that may or may not make an appearance.

**Author:** **_Spirit_**

o

_**The Cinderman's Kiss**_

o

CHAPTER 5

o

When Severus awoke the next day it was to be faced with an anxious looking Harry holding a can of shaving cream and a razor.

"So you know the way I told you that I'm a Healer in training?" Harry asked, launching straight into a conversation without any prerambling or polite greeting. He didn't even allow Severus the opportunity to even consider answering. "Well I made a few phone calls yesterday to Healers and Muggle doctors and today I'll be holding a consultation. Here. In this house."

If Harry had looked nervous before he immediately began to fidget also, looking very uncomfortable in his own skin.

"My mentor says that I've always been a good Healer and so as soon as I explained your case hypothetically to her she thought it a brilliant idea to make it my final thesis. So congratulations Professor you're going to be my official patient under St. Mungo's permission and the means by which I can get my Healing stature. I hope you don't mind, because if you do I could always get you a real and proper Healer. I mean I know I told you that I would take care of you and heal you, but I'll understand if you want someone more competent. In any case, like I said there will be a few people coming over today to sit around and discuss you in the most impersonal manner so if it iritates you just tell me and I'll think of something. Which of course is why I have these. Thought you might want a shave. I mean I know magic works best but I'm not sure if I can hold my wand properly right now and -"

'Potter.'

The voice in Harry's head cut his frantic words short. His mouth snapped audibly closed. He hung his head in silence and awaited a lecture of some sort on how unprofessional he was and how Snape would probably rather crawl to St. Mungo's than stay in his care now.

'You are right, magic would work best but as I haven't the means in which to do it myself, it is not distasteful to me to have you do it. As for the visitors, I never expected you to keep my presence a secret. Intabescopestis is not a simple curse. I hardly expected you to try and brew the potion without assitance of some sort.'

The quiet words calmed Harry's nerves. They were so gentle that Harry wanted to close his eyes and envision them flowing through him like a calm stream. Once again he was reminded of how much Snape was different. This wizard had learned what humility was and although there was still basic pride and strength in him, Harry could sense the emotion behind the words. They were tired words, but not angry or hurtful. Just words.

"Sorry," he apologized softly. "I didn't mean to ramble. How are you feeling anyway?"

The mismatched eyes gazed up at him unmoving. The amber one shone in the candlelight, burning a caramel glow while the ebony one was like a glass marble that no light could truly penetrate. Harry was really beginning to love looking into them as he tried to decipher what laid beyond Severus' guarded thought-speech.

'I will live.'

"Are you hungry?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer but needing to know anyway.

'That is an unfair question of which an answer will only cause you guilt. The fact that I cannot eat is not your fault and I would never blame you for it.'

Harry could not hide the guilt he felt however as he nodded his understanding. "Daryll is coming today too. As a physiotherapist I wanted him to be a part of this discussion. He tells me that he has a temporary solution, if all else fails."

'And what is this solution.'

Harry made a face. "An IV drip. It will provide all the nurishment you need via your bloodstream."

'How does it work exactly?'

Harry explained in much more details and he felt, rather than saw, Snape wince at the mention of the needle. Which of course made him wince. He wasn't too thrilled about having needles stuck into his arm even for that brief period of time it would take to insert the intravenous catheter, but he did trust Daryll and knew that the doctor would do the best he could professionally. Option number two would have been a PEG (percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy) feeding tube. Harry wasn't even going to mention that option until it was really necessary and there really was a more permanent need for it.

"We'll cross that bridge when Daryll gets here." Harry tried to cheerfully change the subject, rendering the other wizard silent once more. "In the meantime, how much do you trust that I won't hurt you?"

Snape's eyes flickered to the items that Harry was holding up for him to see. He recognized them enough that if he could have, he would have shrugged nonchalantly.

'You can hardly hurt me more than I already am Potter.' He said soundlessly.

Harry's eyes immediately narrowed his displeasure at such a statement, but instead of responding to such a bait, he rested the can and razor beside Snape on the bed. Without words he indicated that he needed to prop Snape up. Of course he didn't expect a protest at that point and in fact he did not receive any.

A few minutes later Harry was kneeling on the bed, his bottom lip firmly tucked between his teeth as he concentrated on his task of not nicking the jutted chin and sharp jawline. He was so close to Snape that the warmth of Snape's breath sent almost imperceptible waves of air onto his face. The mismatched eyes never left the sight of the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. After a time Harry could even ignore the way his skin tingled from having those indescribable eyes so focussed on him. Harry watched in idle fascination as the pale face was rid of the little stubble that had grown overnight. It just seemed such a waste to use a shaving spell when he could do it himself. After all, the man probably craved contact and Harry had to admit that he kind of craved some form of contact himself if he was expected to spend the day surrounded by his superiors. Besides, it was just the left side of Snape's face, and he could handle that.

"Okay. All done," Harry said softly when he was indeed finish.

He traced the side of Snape's face to check how good of a job he had done, and was pleased with the smooth texture beneath his fingertips. He leaned a bit further upon inspection as his fingers crossed over to the right side of Snape's face where the skin was crinkled. He had not seen the damage quite so close up before so it was easy to become enthralled as he reverently traced the ridges and valleys there too. He spent a few seconds comparing the two sides. They were like midday and midnight. The colors were different and the texture was different. It seemed slightly strange that both skins belonged on the same face. Harry had a vision of covering the difference with a half mask like the Phantom of the Opera. That made him chuckle. Snape would make a good Phantom actually. He could even hear the snarl of words leave the lips that were lucky enough to have escaped damage. Lips that were a little too thin but up close, not as disgusting as Harry had alway thought. Snape had a nice mouth actually.

And that was the thought that sent Harry crashing back to reality as he realized just how much he was crowding the other man. In fact he had overtaking all of Snape's personal space. The wizard was barely breathing as it was and Harry had been trying to share his breathing space. Not to mention the fact that he had practically been holding Snape as prisoner to his gaze. Snape couldn't move and if he could have then he would have no doubt shoved the inquisitive younger wizard out of his face.

Harry muttered a line of expletives as his own face burned in embarassment. He shuffled backwards as quickly as he could.

Waving his wand he cleaned up the foamy mess he had made on the bed and then grabbed the two other items he had brought into the room before springing up from the bed, making quite an uproar as he stumbled towards the door. "Sorry. Damn! I'm so sorry. I'll be back with...with...something to help. Need to put these back. You probably just...God, I'm so sorry professor."

He made it out of the room unharmed, ending up slamming the door very loudly. He leaned against its hard surface and slid into a heap onto the floor. He hid his face in his hands, still cursing his faux pas in his head and wished the earth would swallow him whole.

"Oh bugger!" he swore again before prying himself off the ground.

He still needed to fetch Snape the expensive electric wheelchair that he had been saving all week. It was a good excuse to gather his thoughts and the whirl of emotions that he was left feeling that he burned an even brighter shade of red for when he realized that they were all his. Snape was incredibly silent in his mind still. Harry figured that he had probably shocked his ex-professor into said silence.

o

Strangely enough the first person to tumble out of his fireplace was Hermione.

Harry was slowly making his way back to the guest room with the wheelchair floating behind him. He had taken longer than he should have in his efforts to forget about what had happened in the room and so it was only after a respectable time had passed that he figured he could go back. The floo in his living room flared to life as he walked by it on his roundabout route back upstairs. As soon as he spotted his best friend, Harry let go of all and sundry.

They walked into each other's arms and embraced tightly.

"Hullo," Harry whispered.

Hermione chuckled. "Hello to you too stranger. I missed you."

"Missed you too."

They held on some more, ignoring the way the floo flared green again in indication that someone else was on their way in.

"What? No hug?"

Harry laughed as he extracted himself from one best friend to be engulfed in the arms of another. Ron seemed a little more muscular than the last time that Harry had seen him but now that he was a fully trained Auror it seemed only right that he would toughen up.

"Are we the first ones?" Ron asked looking around the place and of course realizing that the silence could only mean yes.

Harry nodded anyway. "Yes you are. Make yourselves comfortable as I'm sure the others will be getting here soon. I have to go get him mobile."

Ron made a face, but held his tongue. Hermione had a small smile on her face that Harry chose not to try and decifer. They and Daryll were the only three people to know that Snape was alive and in residence in Harry's house. As his three best friends, Harry intended to keep them and them alone informed. For everyone else who would be arriving for the day, Harry already intended to cast a complicated little glamor charm that would obscure Snape's identity.

Harry levitated the wheelchair again, leaving his two friends to greet each other in a far too personal manner.

"I have something for you," he declared as soon as he swept into the guest room again.

Of course Snape had not moved in the half an hour that Harry had disappeared for, but he did not seem to mind the absence. He merely reacted the way he always did when Harry slipped his arms beneath his arm-pits, by wrapping his right arm around Harry's neck. They had never tried to move Snape off the bed before so it was a little difficult as Harry shuffled Snape's full weight from the immediate tangle of sheet across the short distance to where he had rested the chair. He couldn't help the way Snape fell heavily into the cushoned seat. Both men winced.

"I'll get better at that," Harry immediately promised.

Snape responded in a very uncharacteristic manner by trailing his fingertips along the length of Harry's arm quickly. Just a light stroke. "I know you will."

Harry smiled, feeling forgiven for what had occured earlier. At least Snape did not think him strange or worse. He dropped to his knees, keeping the palm of one hand splayed across Snape's chest so that he could prevent Snape's body from slumping forward or slipping from the chair. Using the other hand, he strapped in each of Snape's ankles. Rising, he attached the straps for Snape's chest and one arm then he gently positioned Snape's head in the headrest. He gave him a quick overview as to how the machine was supposed to work before he adjusted the adjustable arm for the straw before he slipped the piece into Snape's mouth.

"So let's see if it works," Harry said gently.

Man and machine moved a short distance away before stopping and turning. Harry resisted the urge to cheer. Instead he pointed out the one thing he had added that had taken him so long to unveil the wheelchair to his patient. On the left arm of the chair was a silver plated disk that was at the distance where Snape could rest his palm. It was very plain looking but Harry was very proud of it.

"Hover your hand over it. Up makes it go up and down of course is for landing," Harry instructed with a smile. "It's a levitation spell but I centred it on the disk so that you can control it. It's wandless since I have yet to get you a wand, but in the meantime it should work. Try it, but go gentle. The faster you raise your hand is the faster you will rise and if you lower your palm too quickly you might crash. You can use it when you get tired of sucking and blowing to move. It's a bit like a magical remote. You can use it to change direction while in the air, only you can't use it to stop. I couldn't figure out a way to do that so the straw will have to do."

Snape seemed to hesitate. Harry waited as he felt tiny streams of Snape's inner struggle break through. Harry ached inside for him and for a second he wished with all his might that he could make this entire experience go away, but he was doing his best and he had to be strong and not break down like a stupid child who was too immature to understand.

Long fingers uncurled slowly. Harry chewed on his lower lip as he watched the fearful way that Snape stretched his palm out towards the disk. Even though he knew it should work he found himself silently praying that it did indeed work and nothing had happened to Snape's magic. Because he realized that this was what Snape was afraid of; the idea that he had lost his magic as well as everything else he had already lost.

When the chair began to rise, Harry felt tears prickle his eyes.

Green eyes met the mismatched ones and neither wizard said anything. Instead emotions flowed between them in silence. It was almost involuntary the way they made their inner feelings mingle. For some reason there was no doubt in Harry's mind that Snape could feel his thoughts even though the link was not supposed to work both way.

Fear. Anger. Relief. Joy. Gratitude. Hope. Respect.

It was just the two of them in that space and once again they had shared something else that not many would have understood. It was like they had reached out and held each other's hand, trusting only each other. Knowing that no matter what happened they were going to have to get through everything with only each other.

"Ready?" Harry asked, breaking the moment.

'Yes,' Snape responded just as confidently as always.

o

Wizards and Squibs arrived in quick succession of each each other. The name of Harry Potter still held quite a pull it seemed and the exciting nature of the case meant that all twenty medical professionals who were invited, showed up enthusiastically in the midst of Harry's living room.

Harry greeted everyone with a smile and a handshake, then watched as everyone greeted Severus. There was no way that Harry was going to leave him alone with the hungry gazes in everyone's eyes as they looked on him. Each person was seeing a different individual of their choosing, but no matter what features they were seeing, it all amounted to rapt interest as each person walked around the wheelchair, taking in the IV drip that Daryll had set up. Most of the doctors made a show of inspecting it while the healers drew their wands and began to cast simple diagnosing spells.

And since everyone knew each other, the discussions began right there near the fireplace, interupted only when another person would stumble out of the dancing flames.

Harry had chosen his panel very carefully. They were all liasions in the medical field as each muggle had a parent or relatives who were magical and the wizards each came from non-magical families like Hermione, or had married muggles. Not that Hermione was a Healer. She did research in rare and new magical disorders and was quite adept at creating new spells. Her goal was to introduce potions for those serious illnesses that muggles were not making progress on. Ron was there as the only Auror to ensure that the legal aspect of the gathering was brought across as each person was require to sign a Confidentiality Agreement. Something which restricted them by magical means to ever talk about the case except in consultation with each other.

As for Daryll, looking over at his friend, Harry barely recognized the man. Once upon a time Daryll had been a child prodigy, finishing his bachelor's degree at the age of fourteen and by nineteen becoming one of the youngest practicing doctors. He had later specialized in physiotherapy and that was how he had met Harry. Harry had been on a path of destruction to test his seeming immortality. The two of them had fallen into a relationship and only later realized that they made better friends than they did lovers. Daryll could live his life at the pace he should have through his friendship with Harry. And although they were five years apart, they both knew that Harry's burden was so much heavier. Somehow they had made a pact to keep each other sane. But now there was none of that joviality in the twenty-six year old as he answered as many questions as he could about what little he had observed in 'Doe' and he shook as many hands as Harry. Two prodigy in one room, the crowd could hardly contain itself.

Suggestions flew back and forth as everyone settled down.

No one had a definite solution but the healers had spells and potions that they wanted to be tried and the doctors had medication and excercises that could work. They had two problems to solve. One was to prevent the curse from engulfing 'Doe' and that meant slowing it down enough to spare the man his face. If possible it would have also been uplifting if they could get his neck moving again because once they could do that they would know what route to take. The other problem was in getting the patient to swallow again. Upon everyone's inspection the curse was deemed to be the problem and so it didn't seem worth worrying that 'Doe' would begin to asphyxiate in their presence. Instead they would need to unravel the effects enough to allow swallowing. Already the pale/tanned/dark skin of the patient's arm showed brusing of the veins. A wizard was not meant to walk around with a hollowed plastic tube in his arm, they all agreed.

Each time a potion or spell was discussed Harry would let Snape's thoughts on the subject be known. No one asked what 'Doe's' profession had been as they were all eager to stay as a part of the panel. No one even thought to breach the privacy clause regarding the patient in the statement that they had signed. But they all knew that when it came to potions, Harry Potter was not as knowledgeable as he was suddenly appearing. What Potter was, was a damn good Healer, even without his Healing stature and they all listened when he made his opinion known. The noise level rose and fell, arguments broke out and there was even a bit of laughing at absurd suggestions or jokes.

Nevertheless, Harry focused his attention on the wizard at his side.

When Snape showed signs of fatigue and his right hand began to tremble slightly from the effects of having a catheter in an arm that was too magical for something so muggle, Harry signalled Daryll to take Snape upstairs away from the uproar and perhaps to take out the IV drip, for a while. He couldn't resist reaching for Snape's left hand and giving the fingers a light squeeze and softly explaining that Daryll was going to take him back to the room while he showed the rest of the group all the changes he had made in the house and the recovery room that he had built.

'Thank you,' Snape said softly.

Harry resisted the urge to point out that he hadn't really done anything. Instead, as soon as his patient and his friend were out of sight, he gathered everyone else and then proceeded to walk them upstairs and down the hallway from the four bedrooms, to the equipment filled room.

o

Hours later, after Harry opened up a floo for the last Squib of the group, he found his best friends in quiet discussion in the middle of the guest room. Snape was peacefully sleeping.

Hermione and Ron beamed at him as soon as he entered while Daryll retreated to the side of the bed so that he could inspect Snape's arm one last time. Harry rolled his eyes jovially to show that the little conference was really all in a day's work.

"Do you need us to stay the night?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "No. The two of you should go home. You've paid your friendship dues enough for today. Don't let me interupt your evening as well."

Hermione caught him in a tight hug, kissing him on the cheek. "You will never be an interuption Potter. Remember that."

And Harry laughed softly as he kissed her back. He released her into the arms of her fiance, intending to only shake Ron's hand in farewell. Ron growled rather convincingly, called Harry a 'sodding prat' and pulled him into a three-way hug.

"Owl if you need anything," Ron commanded.

Harry nodded with a grin. "Of course. Now go. You two barely find enough time alone as it is."

Convincing Ron and Hermione to leave left Harry with Daryll and Snape as his only companions. He turned towards the bed to be greeted with chocolate brown eyes that looked at him with an expression that Harry had seen enough times in Daryll's eyes to recognize. But he also knew that he had nothing to worry about. Daryll cherished his friendship just as much as Harry cherished his.

"So we can't keep using the IV drip." Daryll broke the silence. "Come here and look at this."

Snape's arm was a field of bruises. The three veins that the needle had been inserted into thoughout the course of the day were lines of purple. The arm was warm as Harry cradle the damaged fingers in the palm of both his hands. The bruises would heal of course, but he had to agree that there was no way he was going to put Snape through the torture of another day with needles and catheters stuck into an otherwise fragile hand.

"We could try a feeding tube."

"A PEG?"

Daryll considered for a bit. "Well that depends on how long you plan on taking to figure out the way to get him swallowing again. We could just use an NG tube (nasal gastric) in the meantime and hope that it won't take weeks. No use creating a huge hole in him just yet."

Harry nodded. "As long as you show me how, I can do it for as often as it takes to get it right."

"Yeah I figured." Daryll gave Harry a small smile as the younger man's attention shifted to the sleeping figure on the bed. "Wizards are such wusses though. Are you sure you can handle it?"

Harry snapped his attention back to his grinning friend. He shoved him, hard. Daryll laughed, reaching out to pull Harry into a tight hug.

"I've decided to become his physiotherapist. I figured that you could use the help," he whispered against raven tufts of hair. "So for five hours of the day I will be at both your disposals. That will give you enough time to pretend to know what it takes to brew a proper potion."

Harry hugged back, albeit less enthusiastically. "Thanks mate."

One hour later, Daryll bid his farewell and made his way out the door, leaving Harry alone in the silence of the room.

"I'm sorry about today. I promise you that I will never put you on display like that again," he said, dropping into the wooden chair he had set up at the side of the bed.

He curled forwards, allowing his forehead to rest lightly at the centre of Snape's chest. He didn't even notice when Snape's eyes opened. But he felt the fingers that slid into his hair, stroking gently through the strands. Harry didn't have the energy to be startled so he revelled in the way it felt amazingly good to be beneath kind touches of those fingers.

'It was necessary Potter.'

Harry sighed. "Yeah, but it was still a bother. And the IV drip... I hurt you more."

'Pain, I've come to realize is quite necessary. I've learned to be grateful for the little things in life and the fact that I can still feel in my right arm or anywhere else on my person, is something to be grateful for. I may not be able to move them, but at least I know they are still there.'

"I'm sorry anyway," Harry whispered back tiredly but no less determine. "I'll get better."

'I know,' Snape responded for the second time that day.

Harry fell asleep in the most uncomfortable position, with fingers threaded in his hair. But when Dobby popped into the room to make a final check on Harry Potter and the Professor, he did not even think of magiking Harry into his own room. Instead he snapped out the candlelight in the room and conjured up a blanket which he draped over his master's back.

Then he apparated back to his home in Hogwarts, leaving the two figures and the tableau of care that they seemed to be creating.

oXo

**Glossary** (quoted and paraphrased from Reference dot com Encyclopedia)

_PEG_ - (Percutaneous Endoscopic Gastrostomy) A tube inserted through a small incision in the abdomen into the stomach with the aid of an endoscope that is passed through the mouth and down the esophagus/throat.

_NG_ - (Nasal Gastric feeding tube) A tube, inserted into a nostril of the nose, into the throat, down the esophagus and into the stomach.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **For as long as he lived Harry was never going to forget the sight of those black eyes in pain. The light hit Snape from the side and then it seemed to cover him as he turned in it to face the boy he had protected so many times before. And it looked like he was melting...

**Author's note: **Be warned...this is one of my pet projects so update may be erratic.

**Author:****_Spirit_**

o

_**The Cinderman's Kiss**_

o

CHAPTER 6

o

'Clockwise Potter doesn't just mean wrist movement. Unless you intend to sprain your wrist from the strain, I would suggest that you stop being a lazy, incompetent idiot and use your arm.'

"I am using my damn arm!"

'If you were doing that then there would be a nice funnel shape in the middle. The potion should be moving as one with no waves. I should be able to see the bottom of the cauldron ever so often. Obviously you and I have different opinions on what a funnel looks like.'

Harry grabbed the huge wooden spoon out of the potion and slammed it down on the work table that he had set up close by. He only just managed to miss the instructions for the potion he was trying to make, while the other scrolls - neatly rolled up - merely bounced a little. Harry spun around to face the hovering contraption behind him that held the wizard who had spent the entire morning riling him.

"I can't do this if you stand there driving me mad Professor. I know you wish you were doing it and believe me I bloody wish you were doing it too but you're not and since we both know how god awful I am already, well there it's been said so bugger off would you!"

They eyed each other in silence. Harry was fairly vibrating with anger while Snape looked at him in cool detachment.

This was not the first time that they had found themselves at each other's throats. Snape, it seemed to Harry, just could not bear to know that there were potions brewing and him not being a part of the process. So while Harry poured over scrolls and scrolls of suggested potions and new blends, while he tried to curl his mind around the concept of making a combination of potions he had never even known would have the composite to combine, Snape had spent hours berating him. As he could see the potion in his mind and instinctively knew what results they should be obtaining, it made Harry mistakes so much more obvious and the more nervous or angry that Harry got was more potions he would mess up.

'If you stop now you will ruin the potion yet again.'

Harry glared. "Well I don't give a flying fu-"

"Hello? Anybody there?"

Daryll's shout from downstairs effectively cut off Harry's curse. He snapped his mouth shut, wrestling with his anger as he turned away. He grabbed the instructions and the spoon again, spending a moment to calm down lest his magic do something strange and the potion exploded over the two of them like one the night before had done.

"Daryll is here," Harry finally managed to say softly.

Behind him he heard the wheelchair land upon solid ground before it moved out into the recovery room and no doubt down the hallway. Harry waited until he could not hear it any more before he collapsed upon the single bench in the room, banging his forehead on the table repetitively but not enough to really hurt himself as much as he wanted.

When the potion began to emit thick billows of smoke, Harry waved his wand angrily at it to get rid of the burned mess. Then he grabbed everything else worth throwing and he threw them as hard as he could against the door. Leaving a mess of scroll, the wooden spoon and various plastic containers holding dried ingredients that somehow managed to not open on impact and simple rolled to various locations on the floor.

Gathering them all back up, Harry began to brew the muscle relaxant yet again.

o

"Hey you."

Harry was decanting the transparent blue gellatine-like potion in a glass flask when Daryll walked into the potions room. He placed the flask on the table carefully before taking a seat before it, running both sets of fingers through his black hair and making it stick up even more than it usually did.

"I'm so bad at this," Harry finally said by way of greeting. "He sits there wishing that he could be the one to brew them and I stand there wishing that he really could do it too. Every time I botch it up, he gets frustrated and I get mad at myself for getting him so worked up when he should be relaxing. Then we spend hours yelling at each other and I can't help thinking that sooner or later one of us is going to say something to make the other one hate him and I'll be back at Hogwarts in my mind with my worst teacher irritating the shit out of me or he'll be there regretting everything he ever did for me, the ungrateful brat he always saw me as."

"Harry he won't hate you and you're just feeling guilty and scared again." Daryll sat down beside Harry and pulled the other man's hands into his own to offer some sort of support. "We talked about you all day and Severus appreciates the time and effort you put into this. You don't think that he's not afraid that you'll wake up one day and think it's not worth it? God man, he's just waiting for you to kick him out too."

Harry lookd at the way his own peach colored skin contrasted with Daryll's golden brown as the other man gave his hand a small squeeze of assurance. Harry returned the squeeze, already feeling better than he had all day.

"You call him Severus now? And you spoke to him?" Harry raised an eybrow. "Explain."

"It's his name you know and since he wasn't my teacher I can't refer to him the way you do." Daryll laughed and retracted his hand when he realized that Harry had calmed down. "And as for talking, a laptop was all he needed. I didn't even have to show him how to use it."

Harry laughed before he reached out to trace the contour of the glass flask.

"By the way I feel bad," He said turning to smile at his friend. "Here I am acting like an arse and never actually asking how your life is going. How is your girlfriend doing and why isn't she your fiance by now?"

"It's not that easy," Daryll said making a exasperating face.

"You love her?"

Daryll nodded.

"And she loves you?"

Another nod followed.

"Then what's the complication? I'm not sure I see it."

"Oh you don't?" Daryll feigned shock.

Harry shrugged. "Nothing you can't explain."

"Well how do I tell her that I used to be into guys?" Daryll wiggled his eyebrows, making Harry laugh again. "And that I used to really like them being in me literally. How do I explain to her that I can't take her over to my mom's house because I'm shitscared that mom is going to suddenly wave her wand and stuff will come flying into the room. Or worse when I tell her that if she liked that piece of trick she shouldn't get her hopes up because I couldn't get a pin to move if I begged and pleaded with it from here to eternity? I'm not sure if I want to live out my own homegrown version of Bewitched and I'm not sure she'll be too impressed with me if she finds out about the gay thing."

"Bisexual," Harry corrected teasingly. "And if you want to marry her then it means that you chose her."

"But how do I make sure she knows that I am only interested in her even though I don't know what could happen in the future?" Daryll gave Harry a steady look. "Afterall, once upon a time I was in love with a man. What's to say that if that man decides that he is old enough and more experienced enough now to be able to love me back, then I wouldn't give up everything to be with him?"

Instead of backing down, Harry returned the look. "What if I did say that?"

And Daryll laughed. "Then I'd say you're missing what's right in front of you and it's not me. We made the right decision to be friends Harry. You know it and I know it. Maybe a part of me will still love you. That's something you're going to have to concede to me, but I don't think I can work up the kind of love you want. And Charlene and I fit. I mean we fit like puzzle pieces. I'd give the world for her to know that I'll always make her happy."

"Then marry her!" Harry rolled his eyes. "And stop acting like a bleeding idiot when you know you care about her. If she loves you then she won't care that you used to shag men or that your mum is a witch. I wish I had what you found. I'm just a little jealous you know."

"Seriously? You might be closer than you think."

"What the hell is that to mean?"

"Nothing. Let it go. You'll figure it out when you figure it out." Daryll grabbed the jar of potion to distract Harry. "And by the way, this looks pretty good."

"Piss, in a bottle, would look good to you Dare," Harry said using the nickname he had dubbed Daryll during their time together.

Daryll raised an eybrow. "It's not, is it?"

"Blue-green? It better not be." Harry laughed. "Though, with my skills in potions I'm not sure how much shock I could claim if it turned out to be. You're lucky that the doctors send over the medciation already bottled and labled and all you have to do is send it through his feeding tube. I spend hours brewing these potions, only to have him point out my many mistakes."

This time it was Daryll's turn to emit an exasperated sound. "Speaking of him, which you seem to always be, I have to go make sure that he's okay. You're fine by yourself now? I won't have to come in here and drag you from near the fire?"

"How is it that I didn't know you were such an unfeeling prat?"

"You knew." Daryll ruffled Harry's hair even further, before he made his way to the door. "I just distracted you when you remembered."

o

By the time Harry made it to the adjoining room Daryll was chatting animatedly into the cellphone mic curved near his ear, while already helping Snape back into his wheelchair. There was a silencing charm on both the potions and the recovery room to allow both parties the ability to concentrate in peace so Harry was never usually aware when Daryll was finished curling Snape's limbs through various excercises to prevent blood clotting and bed sores. Standing in the open doorway and watching the care and skills that Daryll exhuded when he gently lowered Snape into the seat and the efficiency he had in securing the broken body, Harry couldn't help the string of jealousy that he felt when he realized that unlike him, Daryll was made for the task of taking care of Snape and he did a far better job of it.

Daryll smiled when he had Snape settled before spreading a blanket over the robe covered legs to keep them warm. All the while his fluent French Creole spilled from his lips like some exotic variation on a well known theme. Harry knew that it meant that Daryll was speaking to his father, who for the next two years was the Haitian embassador to Burkina Faso. The fact that they rarely found time to speak to each other, made Harry reluctant to disturb his friend. But Daryll took one look over at where he was louging near the doorway and winked at him. The conversation ended with a laugh and soon Daryll ended the call.

"I will see you tomorrow Severus," he said with a smile before walking over to Harry and giving the unruly black hair another mad ruffling, laughing when Harry punched him. "You I will see tomorrow too. And get some sleep before I'll be forced to teach you meditation excercises."

When he left, Harry spent a moment listenning to the silence in the room. Sometimes he really hated the fact that Snape was still such a good occlumen as he rarely ever felt anything but blank hollowed space since four days before when they had experienced that moment of shared consciousness. Now there were no emotions spilling from the mind spell and when Snape chose to speak it was almost like white words against a black background. It was all so sterile and less personal than they had been sharing before.

Finally Harry turned away from the door that Daryll had disappeared behind, and instead faced the intense gaze of Snape's eyes. But before he could speak, Snape held up his hand in an indication for Harry to not say anything.

'Potter, there is nothing we can say to each other right now that has not been said before.' The words were not cold, but they were so stiffly portrayed that Harry was indeed reminded of the Severus Snape of Hogwarts. 'I don't need yet another appology from you, nor do I expect one. I must admit that there are worst things in the world to realize than the fact that I can still find it in me to be -'

"An egotistical prat who thinks that when it comes to potions you alone are any good at it?" Harry supplied.

It was a little surprising when Harry felt amusement slip past the cold barrier that Snape had set up between their minds instead of the anger he had been expecting. Harry fought back the urge to smile or give in to whatever the man was trying to do to him. Instead he held up the three vials of potions that he had been brewing. He sighed tiredly, knowing that this conversation was as good as a make-up as they were going to act out.

"I want these to work," he said quietly. "You might not believe this, but it's draining to fight with you. I always end up feeling about two inches tall and wishing that I'd just kept my mouth shut. You get the prize for the most hurtful insults and the best delivery, so I concede. The sooner I can get you better is the sooner you can go brew your own potions again without me and my incompetence muddling them up."

Snape hovered his hand above the metal disk and slowly the chair rose until he was just at that height he would be if he were standing. With one plastic tube attached to his nose -the feeding set hung on an IV pole, that was magically attached to the wheelchair, for mobility during the continuos feeding- and another between his lips, it should have been easy for Harry to ridicule the situation in his mind. But, Harry was growing to respect Snape in subtle ways and so when the mismatched eyes held his gaze he found himself feeling like he was eleven again and just seeing Snape from across the Great Hall of Hogwarts again.

"Want me to comb your hair?" he asked, mentally letting go of the hurt and self-doubts that he had been carrying around all day.

'I would like that.' Snape responded, and to Harry it wasn't as cold anymore to feel the words.

They retreated down the magically elongated hallway and back into the guest room with Harry leading and Snape following behind. While Snape waited, Harry went into the bathroom to gather everything he would need to give Snape his evening wash. As soon as the feeding tube had been inserted they both agreed that it was better not to use a cleansing spell, and since baths were now near impossible that only left sponge baths.

"Alright, ready?" Harry asked when he returned to the bedroom.

He left the bath necessities out of accident's way, then unbuckled Snape from his wheelchair. Taking care to set the IV stand near the bedside he reached out and grasped Snape firmly into his arms. He was getting better at moving him, Harry was proud to realize. He even managed not to turn every shade of red he usually did whenever he had Snape naked before him and the only thing separating his fingers from exploring the broad expanse of skin at his disposal was a soapy sponge and some water.

Nevertheless, he was extremely relieved when he had the man dressed and everything was dry again. He accio-ed the hairbrush from the bathroom and slipped in behind Snape on the bed, as he acted like a backboard against which Snape's body rested.

They sat in absolute silence as Harry slipped the brush reptetitively through the silky strands of black hair. Now that he made sure to wash it every day for Snape he found that he had developed quite an admiration towards it. Snape's hair now spelled of rosmary and aloe, which just made Harry remember the wizard as he used to be, standing in front of a cauldron and deftly adding ingredient after ingredient of nature's sacrfices and offerings. Harry really wanted to see Snape like that again. He had to believe that he had the ability to make Snape into that wizard again.

Harry slipped all ten of his fingers through Snape's hair, discarding the brush somewhere on the ground. He worked his fingers slowly massaging the warm scalp beneath the curtain of black. Tiltilng Snape's head forwards, his thumbs worked the base of Snape's skull, just where the hairline met burned skin, but he ignored the fact that his simple massage would not revive the muscles there. Instead he worked his way back up, bringing Snape's head back to rest on his forehead as he buried his nose in the silky hair. He closed his eyes, allowing his fingers to see for him and his nose to touch for him. He resisted the urge to press light kisses against Snape's head, and down his neck and across the cheek that had been so neglected by all other kisses but that of the stings of a spell's flame. Harry didn't want to name what he was feeling but it was suddenly so jumbled and complicated inside of him. All he knew was that it felt good to hold Snape, like this.

'Harry. Stop.'

The words weren't harsh or loud. In fact they were so soft that it was like feathers tickling their way through Harry's mind. But he could feel the regret and restraint that lined them. And there was fear too, as if Snape thought that he was losing control of something.

It was the words that brought Harry back, but the emotions made him want to tighten his hold and forget how wrong or right his actions were..

"Sorry," he whispered, although he took in a deep breath of aloe and rosmary before he could open his eyes and allow his fingers to reatreat. "I'll go get the first potion."

He slipped out of the bed, gently lowering Snape's head and body upon cotton sheets and a mountain of pillows. He called the blue potion to him, catching it as it sailed into his palm, then rested it on the bedside table before he turned back to Snape. Together they worked on sliding out the feeding tube. It couldn't stay in overnight because once the potion was applied to Snape's thoat it would take at least eight hours to work. Which meant of course that they wouldn't know until the next morning if they had failed yet again on getting Snape to drink a glass of water.

He applied the potion to Snape's neck as quickly and efficiently as possible, before he could get caught up yet again in the action. And as he worked, he considered his actions.

What he felt, or what was building between them, left him confused. This wasn't wild lust and just wanting the man. This was more subtle, gentler and frightening in the way it wasn't a demanding and overpowering madness like Harry had felt with all his previous partners. This took him by srprise too because although he knew that he had not hated Snape for a long time now, he had no idea that he would ever yearn to be near him. Even when they were shouting at each other, he worried about Snape overtaxing himself. He cared for him now, but it wasn't that simple as it didn't just stop there. It surprised Harry but there were parts of him that thought it a good idea to try to kiss away all the hurt that Snape carried around. Harry wanted to hold him until he healed. It wasn't blatantly sexual but it wasn't in all innocence either.

'How did you meet Doctor Stetingson?'

Harry thought about that, wondering what he should divulge and what would be too much information.

"After Voldimort I did some very stupid things. I wanted to forget being a wizard but at the same time I wanted to transcend mere muggles. I felt immortal. I wanted to be human again so I'd take a lot of risks. I went bungee jumping off a bridge without the elastics that muggles use to actually bungee jump with. I walked in front of a truck once, not to kill myself or anything but just because I almost felt that it would pass right through me. I broke every bone in my body. I coudn't feel anything. I felt invisible and unreal. Like I didn't exist or I did once, but not anymore." Harry shrugged. "I had to see a doctor and Daryll was my physiotherapist. He was just a ploy because he recognized me immediately and got a Healer to mend me. That's when I decided to become a Healer. I was so tired of fighting. So tired, damn it. We've been friends since then."

'Friends?'

Harry smiled as he gazed into mismatched eyes that gave away nothing in regards to whatever thoughts that laid beyond them

"What do you want to know?" He took Snape's good hand into the palms of both his hand. "Or, what do you want me to know?"

'I am not what you wish for me to be. I am not anything in particular, but I have never considered being that..'

Harry felt his stomach clench even as he nodded to show that he knew what Snape was saying. Because, the Snape he knew had never been a sexual creature. He couldn't remember every hearing the other wizard's name being in reference with anyone else except perhaps his mother's. Lilly Potter had of course married James as soon as she stepped out of Hogwarts so Harry knew that it wasn't as if Snape had been involved with her. And then there was no one else, neither male nor female who had probably ever considered the Potions master as desirable in the slightest. Yet as sexual preferences went, Snape was telling him that he did not swing Harry's way.

"I can't appologize for what I am," Harry said softly, but with a shrug.

'And I will not apologize for what I am not.'

Harry nodded again. He tried to slip his hand away so that he could retreat in peace and leave Snape to rest. Instead the long fingers tightened their grasp around his fingers. And Harry felt the floodgates open in his mind again as Snape released his occlumency shield to allow Harry to at least feel his most basic thoughts and emotions on the issue. It was enough and too much for Harry to bear at once and this time it was he who almost begged the other man to stop.

'While I have never found myself desiring what I believe you will soon begin to offer, I am not adverse to the idea. As I've never allowed myself to ever indulge in any sort of tryst with any individual in general and since I do owe you for the things you have done or will do for me, I am willing to -'

"No!" Harry wrenched his hands away and covered his ears, although he knew it was useless and indeed the words continued as if he had not interrupted.

In another second he took Snape's hand into his again and brought it up to his lips. He kissed the palm gently, then gave it a light squueze of reassurance. Looking into those eyes, hearing the words he had heard, Harry knew that he would never ask Snape to do what he was willing to do. That Snape owed him was a debatable point but he would never expect the man to repay him with his body if he did manage to heal him.

"Go to sleep," Harry said tiredly instead. "You need sleep. So thanks but no thanks. even I hadn't thought that far ahead."

'Potter.'

But Harry shook his head. "Please, just let it go."

The eyes closed without any other form of protest. Harry waited, watching to see if they would open again, but when after an hour Snape really seemed to have fallen asleep he finally let go of the hand he was gently caressing with his thumb. Harry slid down to the cold floor, raising a knee on which he rested his head while he draped his arms around his shin. He had a nearly uncontrollable urge to laugh and never stop laughing at the ridiculous situations that he tended to get himself in.

Snape was asexual and Harry had confused, semi-sexual, semi-sweet feelings for him already.

oXo


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **For as long as he lived Harry was never going to forget the sight of those black eyes in pain. The light hit Snape from the side and then it seemed to cover him as he turned in it to face the boy he had protected so many times before. And it looked like he was melting...

**Author's note: **I'm really sorry. Even I am not so unnecessarily cruel, but in my defense I did warn that updates would be exasperatingly spare. Writer's block is a killer though and so I am very, very sorry. Thanks for sticking around though.

**Author:** **_Spirit_**

o

_**The Cinderman's Kiss**_

o

CHAPTER 7

o

Discovering the cure for Snape's swallowing problem gave Harry a little less sense of satisfaction than he had always imagined. Sure he was happy about it and he could sense Snape's relief when the test glass of water was induced without a reappearance. He held his breath when they moved on to having Snape eat solid food. This was nothing more than a peg of orange and two strawberries, but Harry couldn't help the thread of pride that he felt watching Snape chew and swallow successfully. He had brewed a potion all by himself. Invented a potion even, for all the compensations he had made and all the hours that he had spent in the Potions room pouring over scrolls. He had made the key to Snape's recovery. Strangely enough though, once the small moment of euphoria wore off, Harry felt like a black hole had swallowed him. The realization that they were only just now at the beginning of getting Snape well again was frightening.

'What is the problem?' Snape asked softly when Harry sat down on the bedside chair and immediately slumped over in it.

Harry immediately rose and gave a half smile, responding "Nothing," even as he reached out his arms.

On cue, Snape wrapped his good arm around Harry's neck and waited for Harry to adjust his head at the junction between Harry's neck and shoulder. Strong arms wrapped around his waist. If Harry's lips brushed the curve of his ear when Harry began to count to three, Snape did not mention it. Just like he did not mention the way Harry's thumbs slid across his cheeks softly as his head was settled within the headrest, before the rest of the chair's restraints were attached along several parts of Snape's body.

Just like Harry did not mention the way that Snape lightly grasped his hand to prevent his retreat as soft words feathered their way across his mind like a caress when Snape responded, "Tell me."

Harry shook his head.

"Just need to gather the panel again. Tell them that we found a potion that works. Decide on what to do from here. Figure out what I'm going to do in a week when university restarts. I don't want to leave you here alone which only leaves me with asking Dobby. Not that he'll mind. I've been thinking too that I don't want to infringe on Daryll anymore so I'm going to have to get him to give me a crash course in how to take care of you. He loves his mother but I think it's wearing on him to have to see her so often. Then there is the potion or potions that we'll need. Now that I have this potion to use as a key, I can start on the ones to heal your muscles. Of course I'll have to break the curse first." Harry paused in his diatribe to smile as he focussed on the silent man before him. "But like I said, it's nothing that I can't handle."

'Perhaps I can help with the Potion making.' At the look of protest forming on Harry's face, Snape quickly continued. 'I will handle the intricate details and the research so that you may just brew the potions using instructions that I will write for you.'

"Like Potions class?" Harry teased. "Those were no fun."

'Without my immediate presence, let us hope that you elicit more favorable results in shorter periods of time," Snape responded dryly.

Harry laughed, then tapered the laugh down to a smile as his eyes searched the face of the figure before him. He loved Snape's amber eye, he admitted to himself. Just like he loved the levels of Snape's character, such as bravery and even stubborn pride.

"Alright. I suppose you must have been really bored these two weeks," Harry conceded. "It would be really good to finally just fall into bed at night instead of worrying about the scores of research that I've been losing sleep over these few nights. So by all means I'm more than willing to pass on that burden to you."

'So it is settled.'

Harry nodded. "And now we can go and greet the morning." He stepped back a little, unncessarily but on reflex, as Snape lifted the chair to hover into the air. "By the way, tell me if you feel nauseous throughout the day, especially if you eat again. It's a regular reaction for persons previously malnurished and as this will be the first time you'll be really eating on your own for hopefully a prolongued period, your body will need to learn how not to reject food as poison to your digestive system. I'll be in the living room in conference all day. You can join me if you want, the glamour charm that I cast last time should still hold. But of course that won't matter because you speak to me in my mind. So you won't be interrupting me or anything."

Snape raised an eyebrow. 'I give you the benefit of the doubt Potter, and then you do something like state a very obvious point and I'm left wondering if you will ever be able to lay claim to a task such as thinking before you speak. But just for the benefit of confirmation, I will indeed inform you if I feel nausiated and yes, Potter, I know that a benfit to this link that you have established is that of a shared privacy.'

Harry rolled his eyes, briefly stuck out his tongue, then walked away laughing as he was followed closely behind by a certain man in a flying wheelchair.

They parted company in elongated hallway as Snape headed to his recovery room where Dobby was probably waiting to babysit him, while Harry went downstairs to first call the panel and then sit patiently and await their arival

And arrive they did, all in a flurry of action and excited chatting as they all examined the flask of potion that was on exihit.

o

Three hours later, Harry sat alone in his living room staring into the flickering flames of his fireplace.

Hermione paused at the door to watch him sip at a nearly empty glass of red wine which he moved only long enough to set carefully oneside on the floor. He hadn't even noticed her presence and that made her sigh. She walked over to him, sat on the couch beside him before wraping her arms around him comfortingly then very briefly resting her head on his shoulder.

"About what the panel said..." She paused to regroup. "It was a suggestion Harry. The potion that you invented is great and amazing. I am so impressed by it and the fact that you made it makes me so proud of you. But, you know doctors Harry, they are more impatient than quicksand and they think they have the answer to everything. You know my vote. I'd use the potion alone and forget about doing anything to make it work faster. So take it as a suggestion and don't worry about it."

"Hermione, when a group of my peers and superiors say that they think the best thing to do in a given situation is to perform a certain task then far be it from me to act like I know better and disagree," he pointed out softly.

"But you do know better. You're his Healer. Only you and Daryll really have a right to decide anything."

Harry sighed softly but he neither responded nor diverted his attention to the worried brown eyes that gazed at him.

"Harry?" Hermione prodded gently.

She interlocked her fingers with his and silently marvelled at the way that no matter how much older they got she still felt so comfortable being the advisor to her best friend. His friendship was very important to her and she hated to see him doubt his abilities when everyone who ever met Harry Potter knew that he wasn't just a handsome face.

"I'm going to save him Hermione," he whispered in an almost childish voice. "I'll do whatever I can because more than anyone else he deserves to know that he is worthy of being saved."

Something about the way he whispered the words caught her attention. So she changed her position to one where she was facing him. Then, she reached both hands up to cup his face and turned his attention away from the hypnotizing fire so that she could search his green eyes for a clue to his thoughts.

"Harry," she murmured when she found exactly what she thought that she would find in his emerald gaze before he ducked his head out of her grasp.

"Don't ask," he said still softly and to make sure she understood he looked back at her with a serious expression, "Just don't, because it's still too new to disect."

"Okay." Hermione nodded. "Just be careful. That goes for whatever you decide to do for his healing too. Remember that powerful magic like yours is easy to lose control over and this cleansing that everyone else wants you to do is rooted in dark magic."

That made Harry smile wryly. "I know Hermione. I'm the one that twisted the concept to kill Voldemort."

Hermione kissed his lightly on the cheek. "Just remember that what you did to kill Voldimort might have been derived from the same spell but it's not the same thing. Otherwise I'm sure that Snape won't allow you within six feet of his body to cast it, and I can see that you've already decided to take the advice of the panel and cleanse him first."

"Smart you are." He tapped her on the nose with the tip of a finger. "Now that you've fulfilled your duty as my best friend, go and get your boyfriend and my ex-lover. I can explain the decision to Severus just fine alone and the three of you are always having to take care of me. I'm fine now."

"Good to know mate." Ron strolled into the room like he had been evesdropping for a while and was shamelessly not going to deny it. He tugged Hermione into his arms and nuzzled her cheek even as Harry made a face and Hermione laughed softly. "It really is time that we leave, especially Hermione. I don't appreciate how I leave her with you and you're alway copping a feel."

"I do not!" Harry protested on cue.

Ron released his fiance long enough to throw his best friend his own funny look. When that didn't work he hauled Harry up from the couch to give him a brief manly hug.

"You do Potter. I see you. Fortunately for you I know she loves me far more than she loves you so I'll forgive you yet again and instead take her somewhere where I can show her how much I love her too. So on that note, we're leaving now." He took Hermione's hand into his and kissed the back of her palm before flashing Harry a mischievous grin. "If you need help with Snape then just floo. If you want our opinions on anything then you know what to do, but if you're just feeling alone and need company then for Merlin's sake call Daryll. He became a queer little pouf for you once so I'm sure that you can convince him to do it again."

Which of course earned him a slap in the back of his head from the aformentioned Daryll who had strolled into the room just in time to hear Ron's farewell.

"There's more where that came from," Daryll warned with what he obviously thought was a dangerous look on his face.

"Keep your masochistic tendencies away from my Hermione's presence."

Daryll and Ron's manners descended into that of a five year old's for a brief moment before Daryll remembered that he had been looking for Harry for a reason that did not involve mock fights with Ron Weasley.

"Severus is waiting for you in the recovery room. I didn't tell him anything about the meeting just in case you wanted to explain it to him. I did tell him about the success of the potion and he insisted on working on a more acceptable version."

That got Harry's attention.

"He's writing with his left hand?" he asked in surprise.

Daryll laughed and shook his head. "No. Worse. He's talking aloud to a floating feather and the damn thing is actually able to write down everything he says. Yes, as uncivilized as it makes me sound I must admit that I'm impressed. I spent a good ten minutes just watching."

Ron looked at him in sympathy. "You poor thing. What did Harry do hide you under a rock when you were together? It's the QuikSpell that I gave him today. It's designed to take notes when your hand begins to hurt, or otherwise."

Harry groaned loudly as soon as Ron said his piece, but the sound wasn't nearly loud enough to drown out Daryll's response to words such as 'rock' and 'hide'. Luckily, Hermione chose that moment to do something about them giving Harry his well-deserved time of silence without guests.

"Bye Harry," Hermione said into his ear when she hugged him, just before grabbing Ron and Daryll by an arm each and almost hauling them over to the fireplace.

She opened a floo for Daryll first, instructed the flames exactly where to send him before pulling him into a goodbye hug then almost shoving him into the green flames. He blew her a kiss just before he disappeared. Ron was next and he dissappeared with nothing more than a wave and a cheeky grin that had everything to do with whatever mysterious thing Hermione had murmured to him before tossing him to the flames. She saved herself for last, of course. As soon as she stepped into the fire she mouthed 'Bye Harry' before she too disappeared.

Harry took a brief moment to enjoy the silence of his home before he went in search of Snape and mental stimulation.

o

"Harry Potter sir, you must be waking now." A frantic bout of shaking followed the squeaky words. "It is working sir. You have to be with him. Sir! Wake up!"

Harry opened groggy eyes to find Dobby kneeling on his chest with his tiny fists clenched around the neck of Harry's shirt, dramatically cutting off a good bit of Harry's air supply in his panic.

Harry glanced at his bedside clock and the muggle digits that were illuminated. Two A.M. He had only been asleep for three measley hours but he did remember leaving Dobby to watch over Snape and to wake him at the first sign of change. Exhaustion had become mingled with fear for the hours that Snape had lain in a semi-coma as his body's magic fought.

Harry didn't need to get dressed because he had fallen asleep in the same clothes he had worn all day, so he made it to the guest room fairly quickly. By then, Dobby had already apparated there too and was waiting patiently for him at the door. In silence Harry performed a quick cleansing spell on Dobby then himself. They didn't want any stray magic to mingle with the reactions already taking place in the room.

When they entered it was to find the room filled with a grey fog. On the bed, there were wisps of black smoke escaping out of Snape's mouth and nose. That was the only sign of any life in him, but it was all Harry needed. The grey fog had already lightened a shade over the three hours that had passed since Harry checked in on his patient.

"Dobby stay back," Harry said softly, trying not to inhale the condensed air.

They had done this enough times now that Dobby was quick to comply by retreating as far away as he could. "Yes sir. Dobby will stay over here."

Harry approached the bed. He cupped one side of Snape's face with his palm and tried not to flinch at the cold temperature. It was as if Snape's insides were freezing, but a quick check of one arm told Harry that the change in temperature was confined only to Snape's upper chest, neck and head. Harry slipped his hand back up to lightly caress the cold face again before he retracted his hand to hover over a few inches above the afflicted body.

He began the purifying chant that he and Snape had written together.

All the while he had to keep his thoughts pure and his intentions kind. The dark magic that was being exhaled ever so slowly was trying to leech onto Snape's life source and with ever whisp of black smoke that escaped was the ever possible risk that it was taking a piece of Snape each time. Any wrong moves by the Healer and Snape could inadvertenly end up like Voldemort had done when Harry ripped the Dark Lord's soul in two.

Harry collapsed tiredly on the bedside chair as soon as he was finished. He didn't even have the strength to raise his head and look at the ash grey fog turn light grey. Instead he reached for Snape's left arm, his fingers frantically searching the thin wrist for the point at which he could feel a pulse. It was there, stronger than before but still so much weaker than it should be. Harry slipped his fingers down until they became entwined with Snape's fingers. He brought them over to his lips and kissed each entwined one, needing to be sure yet again that he had not made any mistakes and Snape was still with him.

"Come Harry Potter, you can't stay here." Dobby tugged on him and Harry almost fell over because he was so drained. "Come back to bed now."

Harry felt tears rise to his eyes. The last time he had finished he had sat sobbing pitifully on Snape's chest, but this time he fought the sting of his eyes and the ache inside.

"Let me stay," he whispered, but Dobby tugged even harder.

"No!" Dobby's voice was very firm. As firm as Harry had commanded him to be if necessary. "It will eat your soul to stay alive. You cannot stay. You cannot! Leave before the dark cloud gets inside you."

Harry shook his head, tightening his hold on Snape's fingers. He was so afraid that if he let go then he would be letting go of Snape entirely. He could feel the darkness around him and the longer he stayed was the more it closed in on him. He couldn't let it get Snape, not again, not after he had allowed it to take the man once before. It wasn't supposed to be like this, but this was so dark that it felt as if it was chipping away at something inside of Harry.

"He'll die if I leave him!"

Dobby frantically shook his head at that. He began to pry at Harry's fingers and one by one they lost against the house-elf's strength. The tears in Harry's eyes began to spill like silent streams as he emmitted a pleading wail that would have frightened any other creature. But, Dobby had been there at the beginning and this was nothing new to him. He just redoubled his effort, nearly breaking Harry's fingers as the dark smoke rising out of Snape began to change direction and started winding its way towards them.

"He will not die! He will not! Let go!"

Harry slumped forward upon Snape's chest. Dobby gave him an almighty tug and he almost slid out of the chair and upon the elf. Dobby just grabbed his hands and tugged again. This time Harry complied by stumbling out of the chair, upon his knees. It was a start. Dobby coaxed him to follow him and told him that he would feel better when he was out the door again. Harry crawled ever so slowly, not letting go of the tiny anchor that pulled him away from the darkness.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Harry's sobs turned to coughs and deep gasps of air.

"Is Harry Potter feeling better now?" Dobby asked, nervously twisting the end of his toga styled towel.

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Dobby."

"Three hours again, the nice Muggle friend said." Dobby instructed. "Harry Potter is tired now. Dobby will watch the professor."

Dobby apparated back into the room, fortunate enough to not be affected by the dark magic in there, while Harry had no other choice but to stumble back to his room and back to bed. He was so tired that he fell asleep almost immediately, not being spared too much time to think.

oXo


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **For as long as he lived Harry was never going to forget the sight of those black eyes in pain. The light hit Snape from the side and then it seemed to cover him as he turned in it to face the boy he had protected so many times before. And it looked like he was melting...

**Author's note: **I hate the ending to this chapter but I've been writing all day so I really can't think of a way to fix it. It just sounds awkward to me. Remember that this is my pet project so I may not update quite as quickly next time. Thanks for all your lovely reviews. Don't think I don't appreciate every single one of them.

**Author:****_ Spirit_**

o

_**The Cinderman's Kiss**_

o

CHAPTER 8

o

_The first time I used the Purgation charm it wasn't to cleanse at all. Of course, like every other charm, it had existed long before I came along and nobody suspected that it could be made into something so dark. Even I didn't know of course but like everything else I try my hand at it and it all turned ((to bollocks)) out not so well. Thorough investigation showed that the charm had in fact always meant to be a soul binding spell and in fact was not meant for good at all. It was derived from the **Caliga Animus Mortifer Curse** which roughly translates into 'Dark Soul Killer' or 'Dark cloud bringing death to the soul'. Not entirely encouraging I know. ((Lucky me and my powers to tap into it. Joy.)) After years however it was purified and made into something that really helped the Healing field and its true history was lost. I came along hundreds of years later and it seemed a very spectacular way to kill Voldemort. What the scrolls and pensieves don't tell, however, is that done in its entirety the curse is evil. It's not something that just anyone can come along and wield. I almost separated from my own soul on numerous occassions and if it wasn't for the art of meditation I'd probably end up as some twisted hybrid with the best part of my soul and the worst parts of his switching places or something. In any event, that's the curse that I used to kill Voldemort. Although it was tampered with here and there to speed the process to mere seconds and desaturate the cloud into just a fine mist in which his soul was contained until it disintegrated. It was hard enough getting the original curse to work, but once I had tapped into its darkness, it would not allow me to perform the chants in any form but the dark way. I was not too thrilled about being the perfect vessel for this curse so I spent five months developing my own version that I could use and came up with a more potent, finely balanced charm that used the darkness instead of centered on it. This I called the **Animus Abluo** or 'Soul cleanser'. Having developed it, I never used it because theory only goes so far and I wasn't too thrilled about feeling that particular brand of evil channeled through my fingertips. When I did use it on my first patient, what I didn't expect was the comatose state that followed. ((Severus wake up. He won't open his eyes when I call. Shit!)) According to research this state should only lasts for about two days, after which I'll know if ((I killed him or not)) the **Intabescopestis Curse** that he is afflicted with should pass. ((And I'm never doing this bloody curse again. They can just go sod themselves the whole fucking lot of them. Someone else can be the pissing puppet of the sodding world.))_

"Tune in tomorrow for another enticing episode of 'The-Boy-Who-Would-Be-Healer', right here on the self-report channel." Daryll chuckled to himself at the piece of paper in his hand. It said so much about the Harry Potter he knew that a part of him briefly twinged painfully at the loss of this special man.

"Put it down Dare. I'm not bloody writing that over and I'll need it for my Research Paper."

Harry opened his eyes slowly but couldn't seem to summon the energy to lift his head off the solid chest that it rested upon. Listening to Snape's heartbeat had been the only thing able to lull him to sleep the night before and a part of him was still afraid that should he lift his head the heart would immediately stop beating. So he merely squinted up at the blurred blob on the other side of the bed while one hand fumbled around for his glasses.

It occured to him that Daryll shouldn't even be there to begin with so as soon as he could focus he left the bed to stand in front of the good doctor and glared.

"What?" Daryll was the epitome of innocence.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry immediately asked. "You're supposed to be halfway across the world right now."

"Close but not quite," Daryll responded. He watched as Harry pressed the back of a hand across Snape's forehead. Daryll could bet that it wasn't even a concious act for Harry at that point. "I won't stay long because I really do have a full day today, but I'm not going to let you waste away because of Severus."

"I'm not wasting away," Harry muttered.

He took up the glass of water from the bedside table and dipped two fingers into the liquid. He pressed the dripping fingers upon the parched lips of Snape's mouth. Snape of course remained motionless.

"Harry let me do that." Darry took the glass away and maneuvered Harry into the chair. "You're going to make yourself sick puting all this energy into caring for him. You said yourself that the coma should last for two days. Dobby told me this morning that you've been haunting Severus' bedside ever since you performed the Purgation spell."

Harry couldn't even refute that.

He sighed loudly, buried his fingers in his already messy hair and cradled his forehead in his palms. He was so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open even though he had only just awoken. Altogether he had slept six hours in five days but every time he closed his eyes, sleep wouldn't come. He spent half the night checking to make sure that Snape was still breathing and the other half he spent trying to ignore the silence in his head where Snape's voice used to echo. Sometimes he didn't think he was made to be a Healer because if it was this hard to care for one wizard then he would destroy himself by caring for others.

"It's not the same thing and you know that. You've looked after others before so don't deceive yourself. It's different with him."

Harry hadn't even known that he had spoken aloud but his sleep clouded mind had to admit that Daryll had a valid point. He had worked at St. Mungo's both as a volunteer and an intern and had even spent a few months, after Voldemort's demise, as a patient. He was usually very good with patients and usually knew where to draw the line between professional and personal feelings. But, as he watched Daryll go through the motion of listening to Severus' chest with his stethoscope, listening to both lungs and heart, he couldn't help the shiver of absolute terror that coursed through his body for no apparent reason.

"Don't think I don't know how pathetic I'm being. If he were awake he would tear me a new hole for acting like a complete arse around him, but it's fine to say that theoretically such and such a thing should happen when in reality the Abluo could kill him right before our eyes." Harry's voice was a mixture of emotions that were too complicated to decifer.

"The Animus Abluo," Daryll enunciated slowly, "How about, to get your mind off him, you tell me about this charm of yours."

Harry groaned, knowing that his friend meant well but not feeling well enough to go into an explanation. Of course, if he didn't speak then Daryll would know that he was so hungry that the floor was slightly swayng below his eyes and that was because he had been so worried about his patient that he couldn't remember the last time that he ate.

"I explained in the paper -"

"Sorry but I got only as far as the part where your words decended into the realm of the indecent and you obviously needed a break," Daryll interrupted. He was too busy checking Snape's limbs to notice the glare that Harry raised his head long enough to produce.

"I was brainstorming. You should try it sometimes at three in the morning and see how objective you can be." Harry muttered, but he took a deep breath anyway and gathered his thoughts. "What do you want to know?"

Daryll paused in his examination of Severus' skin for signs of bedsores, long enough to give Harry a suspicious look.

"Well for instance, why did Dobby have to come to me in panic because he was afraid that you were going to die from the charm? I know it's derived from a curse but he was terrified for you -"

"Dobby is like that."

"And it's no pretty sight to see the little guy go at it. As far as self injury goes I would be the first to haul him to a psychiatrist if he were human and just a little less magical. He slammed the door on his fingers a good ten times before I could get him to tell me what was wrong. Why didn't you tell me that it was so risky? Why didn't you explain it to the panel? I had to promise to allow him to look after you."

"Dobby exagerates. It wasn't anything that I couldn't handle."

Daryll pulled Harry's hands away from his face to look into the tired green eyes. There were dark circles already beginning to form and he looked a little pale which was evidence enough of Harry's overexertion.

"Tell me why he was worried."

Harry sighed.

"The Caliga is like a saturation of dark magic. It feeds off magic and it lives inside of purity just long enough to corrupt whatever is its host. Most curses has a Caliga but when someone intentionaly uses dark magic it gets stronger. Some wizards become lost to it and it takes over their soul. Someone like Voldemort for instance. His soul was so contaminated that you couldn't tell where the Caliga started and he ended. Long ago the Mayas stumbled across the chants to make it visible. The Aztecs stole the scrolls and perhaps sold them. Anyway, the chants weren't seen again until the days of the plagues in Egypt. Some say that to counter Moses' demands it's the Caliga that the advisors used to duplicate the plagues. It's not easy to control and only someone with a lot of power is said to be able to use it. I just tapped into it to perform the Caliga Animus Mortifer curse. It was hard to use. It used to drain me of my magic and leave me in absolute agony. It was worse than the Cruciatius because it actually left marks. There were times when I wished that it would kill me and it would use that too. I think it's because of those times when I was so weak that I would invite it inside of me that when I developed the Animus Abluo it was stronger than anyone had ever seen. I was still just barely tapping into the Caliga but some part of it stayed with me. And that's why Dobby was frightened. I explained to him before that to use it was my last resort. It works perfectly fine for other Healers but for me it's dark and to use it on the Intabescopestis is like fighting fire with fire."

"Then why didn't you explain that? We all just assumed that you were naturally good at it."

"I am naturally good at it," Harry countered. "It likes me. It likes whatever is inside of me or whatever powerful magic it feels inside of me so much that everytime I tap into it I can feel the evil curl in glee. One day it might even engulf me entirely and I'll lose my battle against it like Voldemort lost, and I'll become the next Dark Lord. Do you think I should have told the panel that? Do you think that the world wants to know that they were right and absolute power really does corrupt entirely? They revere me now but one day I could make them worship me and bow to me and kiss the hem of my robe. All I have to do is reach out and call it to me and I would be beyond a mere wizard. It would be so easy. I already have greatness. I could bend anyone's will. Everyone would know my name, not for what I do but for the destruction that I could cause with a whisper."

Harry's eyes lit up like emeralds. The edges of his iris darkened to black and they shone so brightly that he seemed to glow. His voice was low and deeper than he usually spoke. With each word the room shook harder and harder yet nothing fell or broke. Daryll clutched the handle of the chair that Harry sat in. Some part of him couldn't tear his eyes away from the wizard and yet other parts of him had never been so terrified before. Now he knew what everyone meant when they said that Harry Potter could possibly have been the greatest wizard of his time.

'You are not evil Potter. Some of us are born to despair but you were born to lead and to help. You know this and have always in fact known that you prefer to heal than to kill. It hurts you to hurt others because you have been hurt your whole life. To envision a future where you force others to follow you, even now, makes you feel disgusted. You might be powerful but Voldemort, at your age, would never have tried to do what you are so stubbornly trying to do for me. So stop deluding yourself as you're scaring the only Muggle I have ever been able to reasonably tolerate.'

Harry sucked in a lungful of air then closed his eyes so tightly that he could actually see colors beyond his eyelids. He held on to the words, savored them and felt as if his whole body was shaking with relief. He didn't have a name for what he felt after that and he didn't want to analyze it. All he knew was that just from hearing the familiar snarl of Snape's voice made him feel as if he had suddenly remembered how to breathe properly.

"Severus? You're awake. That's good." Daryll's voice was too soft to tremble but Harry knew that he had given his friend a shock at his little display.

Harry smoothly rose from the chair and even then Daryll refused to turn back around. Instead he seemed to have locked eyes with the dark ones that stared back at him in some silent communication or another. Harry didn't even pause. He wrapped his arms around Daryll's body tighly. This wasn't the usually manly hug that guy friends shared. It was instead one of the hugs that they used to share when they were lovers. Neither of them had been held much when they were small and to be cocooned in the embrace of someone who really cared used to be one of the strong points of their relationship.

"I am the worse sodding friend in the world and an even greater cock-up when it comes to being a wizard because I've obviously got bollocks for brains by flaunting my powers like that," Harry softly whispered into Daryll's hair and being grateful as always that he and Daryll had always been the exact same height despite the age difference. "I'm a fucking arse Dare, I swear."

Finally, Daryll pulled his gaze away from the steady ones below him as he turned fully into Harry's arms. He had missed those arms, had missed the way Harry cared so much that he would give pieces of himself away just to indulge his lovers no matter how briefly. He had missed being on the receiving end of a hug that only another man could do properly. With his fiance he was the strong one. He had missed not having to be so strong all the time.

"Shit," Daryll whispered back into his ear. "You are shit Harry Potter."

Harry nodded completely in agreement. "I am. I definitely am. Sorry mate."

He was so lost in the act of comforting his friend that it took him by complete surprise when he felt the rush of emotion escape past the barrier in his mind. It was reluctant and definitely an accident judging from the way that Snape immediately clamped down on it. But there was no mistaking jealousy when it was so strong that it felt like waves flooding Harry's mind for that brief moment.

"By the way, in case his opened eyes didn't tip you off, your patient is awake," Daryll said as he retreated from the slightly intimate embrace. He immediately picked up on the fact that Harry's attention was not entirely focussed on him anymore and instead was gazing somewhat confused at Severus. "I'll ask Dobby to floo me out. You two have five days worth of catching up to do. Later Harry."

Harry smiled, nodded and then returned to almost glaring at Snape as the door to the guest room was gently shut.

"He's just a friend. Maybe slightly more because of our history but he loves his girlfriend and he knows that we were never serious," he finally said aloud.

'I hardly see how I should care Potter.'

Harry closed the distance between himself and the edge of the bed. Snape may have just awoken after days in a coma, but Harry was damned if he was going to let this conversation pass.

"I felt that and I know that you know I felt it so stop pretending," he snapped. "Whatever you might say to the contrary that's evidence enough that you like me in just the way I considered. You're not asexual at all."

'I don't remember saying that I was, Potter. Less than one percent of the world's population is asexual. I should be so lucky, but just because you now know that the idea is not entirely repulsive to me does not give you license to start molesting me in any form.'

Harry knew what Snape was doing, he even understood what was driving it but it still did nothing to stop Harry from feeling anger swelling inside of him. It took a great effort to tamper it down and not to find some means of hurting the other wizard. It helped to remind himself that the other man had only been conscious for barely fifteen minutes.

"Molesting you huh? Don't worry you're safe from me and my wayward nature." He turned away and walked swiftly over to the door. "You're going to feel terrible soon because that's how the Abluo works. I'll stay away like you obviously want. Dobby can take care of you, just knock three times on something as usual. Excuse me Professor."

It wasn't until he exited the room that Snape gave some type of response.

'Potter...'

The sound of his name was almost like a wish and a curse word at once. It was tangled in emotions that Harry was sure that Snape meant to stay private. It hurt Harry just to feel it and his insides ached with his want. He really, really wanted the prickly bastard, sarcasm and all. He closed his eyes and held on to both his feelings and Snape's until there was nothing left to hold on to. Then he went in search of Daryll, hoping that he wasn't too late to wish his friend a proper goodbye. Sometimes he forgot that just because Daryll grew up around magic didn't mean that he was equipped to handle the dark sides of it and he would have probably scared even Ron and Hermione with the display of power that he had done. He would have managed to scare everyone except Snape apparently, who had said just the right thing at the right time to stop him losing some kind of control. Yet the man had said just the wrong thing not five minutes later.

Harry chuckled softly at that, because only Snape could turn his gratitude into anger so quickly.

o

An hour later Dobby apparated before Harry in a panic. The professor was vomiting and his magic would not work so he was afraid that the wizard was going to choke to death. The poor house-elf did not know what to do as he certainly was not strong enough to hold up the professor and every spell he used seemed to have no other effect than to make the professor even more sick.

Harry apparated upstairs and wasted no time in simultaneously and wandlessly cunjuring up a bucket, magically changing the sheets and removing Snape's clothes then hauling Snape's limp body up and over in his arms to clear the man's respiratory track. Luckily Dobby had propped him up against the headboard before apparating to find Harry so that Snape had not been in a dire situation.

Snape was sweating profusively but his whole body convulsivley trembled.

Harry wrapped one arm tightly around the wiry frame of Snape's body as it shook while he used his other hand to hold back the curtain of black hair. He knew that Snape would protest the embrace but Harry was emotionally exhausted when it came to his ex-professor. He couldn't seem to catch a break with the man because as soon as he dealt with one problem they just seemed to trip into another complication. At least he had expected this bout of nausea however.

"It's alright. It's just the Purgation charm. It will soon pass," Harry reassured Snape softly.

But it did not pass.

After about half an hour of nonestop vomiting, Harry called out to Dobby to get him a pitcher. He was never more grateful than at that moment that they had fixed Snape's swallowing problem .With all the fluid being lost, Harry was afraid that Snape was soon to be dehydrated. So he forced Snape to swallow gulps of water whenever there was a pause, then he would watch as a second or two later the fluid would make a reappearance into the bucket. He was obviously not retaining the liquid long enough for it to help.

Harry's concern was only to get worse after another hour. Up until then Snape had been silent in his mind as if a cold dark wall stood between their minds. Harry tried pushing hard against it but that was to no avail. He gave up, realizing that Snape had been a spy for twenty years so if the wizard did not want to allow him access into his mind then there was no way to force himself in. By the second hour Snape was slumped over the bucket, no longer voluntarily throwing up but more like so exhausted that his eyes fluttered close and vomit errupted from his mouth and nose. In Harry's arms, Snape's body began to feel ice cold as the wizard slipped into a state of shock.

Harry began to actively beg as he pounded against the wall in his mind that blocked him from Severus.

"Let me in! Stop being an arse you stubborn fool. I can't help you if I don't know what you're reacting to. This has to be a side effect of the Abluo but I have to know so that I can attempt to fix it."

'Hurts...'

The word was not a word but a mixture of an emotion and a thought. By itself it was almost a disconnected observation or just a single expression randomly floating through Harry's mind. But what followed the word was like a floodgate opening the world between Harry's mind and Snape's. Harry couldn't help it. His immediate reaction was to tighten his grasp on Snape's body and scream like a wounded animal. The sound was not coherent in the least, it wasn't even civilized, it was more like a raw gurgling of agony that tore itself from the bottom of Harry's stomach and triggered every pain nerve in Harry's body as it expelled itself through Harry's mouth. Because as soon as the floodgates opened Harry felt the pain that Severus had been in for nearly four hours. Every bone in Snape's body, every muscle, every nerve, every organ, everything felt like they were on fire with pieces of glass embedded in them.

Then suddenly, without warning the pain was abruptly cut off leaving only a dull echo of the distress that was still there.

Harry checked the man in his arms and realized that while Snape was no longer vomitting, he was unconscious. Harry was grateful for Snape's sake. He gently laid Snape down and covered the trembling form with a conjured up blanket. He got rid of the bucket and then quickly cleaned Snape up with a wet rag. When he was finished he rapped three times sharply on the bedside table because he wasn't sure if he had the strength to use his voice and call out to his house-elf.

Dobby appeared wringing his clothes nervously with his large eyes glued to the unconscious wizard in the bed. "Yes, Harry Potter?"

Harry deflated upon the bedside chair and tried to calm his still racing heart with deep breaths.

"Oh gods Dobby I almost killed him," he breathed in a shaky voice. "How could he have such a strong reaction to a spell?"

"The professor is not better?" Dobby asked nervously.

Harry shook his head and couldn't seem to stop himself, finally having to bury his face in his palms as he recited what he knew about both spells. "The Purgation spell is usually followed by a short period of nausea or vomiting. Most patients with Intabescopestis have mild tingling in the afflicted area while undergoing treatment. Short and mild Dobby! That was neither short nor mild! He was in so much pain that I can't believe he endured it for so long."

"Does Harry Potter wish for Dobby to go to S'Mungo's?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "He'll need an analgesic. The potions for the Intabescopestis isn't finished brewing as yet and I don't want to start him on the treatment if I don't have the three potions ready, just in case something else goes wrong. So if you go to his Recovery room on the far shelf there is an orange potion in a crystal flask, just get me that please. I might as well treat the pain if I can't help him in any other way.

Dobby popped out of the room and quickly popped back in with the potion. Harry gave him a grateful smile as he uncorked the bottle to let out an odor much like sulphur and burned wood. When Dobby apparated again Harry was too busy dimming the candlelight in the room to mere shadows before removing all obstruction until Snape laid naked before him.

The first touch of Harry's hands upon his skin pulled Snape back into consciousness and his mismatched eyes abruptly opened. Harry paused as he poured more of the oil-based potion onto Snape's stomach before he left the flask floating towards the nearest table while he gently splayed both palms upon the tight cords of twisted abdominal muscles. Snape flinched, whether from pain or relief Harry did not know, but he did not say a word as his eyes met with the sparkling green of Harry's gaze.

"I'll give you a potion to drink that will settle your nausea if you still feel unwell after I'm finish," Harry said softly. "That should have been the first thing I did this morning but I got distracted with Daryll and forgot afterwards. I'm sorry."

Snape's fingers rose slowly then rested lightly upon Harry's hand where they seemed to flutter across the back of Harry's palm and against his wrist. Harry felt tiny tingles of eletricity race through his arm, but he forced himself to not appear so affected by such a simple touch.

'You are doing your best Potter and for that I am grateful.'

Harry could only nod as he lowered his gaze. He was afraid that Snape would see how much Harry loved the feeling of those fingers resting so gently on his hand. He was afraid to even move in case he caused Snape to remove the light touch, but when he did the fingers only moved higher up his arm to caress him while he massaged the potion into Snape's flesh.

Harry felt like he was holding his breath as his hands glided across the expanse of Snape's chest. His thumbs parted company as each moved closer and closer to each of an abused nipple and under the pretense of care, Harry ran thumbs, fingers and palms over them. When he caught himself he had to cover his lapse in concentration by spreading the potion further upwards and massaging the potion into the sharp curve of collar-bone and across each shoulder until Snape's chest glistened.

Then he began the journey downwards, stealing across the nipples again and over each rib that jutted out. His forefinger dipped into the hollow of Snape's navel while his other fingers strained towards thin hips. Harry purposefully resisted the urge to follow the line of hair that trailed from the base of Snape's navel downwards. Instead Harry closed his eyes until his fingers found the bones of each hip and only then did he allow his fingers the freedom in exploration again.

Each hip descended into a thigh and each thigh became a shin and then an ankle and then five toes. Harry worshipped each and every one as he alternated between one leg and the next. He made sure to add more potion to his palms before he took Snape's feet and massaged the soles slowly and thoroughly. His entire body felt like it was vibrating and desire ebbed and flowed like a tide that he could only sway along with.

'I don't think I understand Potter.' Snape's mental words bounced through Harry's clouded thoughts. 'I have offered before and I can see in your eyes that -'

Harry cut him off with a shape intake of breath before he frantically shook his head and merely whispered. "I...I..need to turn you over...for the potion."

Snape offered no resistance as Harry rolled him over unto his stomach and arranged his head upon the pillow. Harry reached for the vial of potion again and liberally coated Snape's back. Unlike the front of the wizard, the back had no smooth flesh on which to dote upon. For everywhere Harry looked there was only wrinkled discolored skin that were puckered in most places but not in some. Harry was unsure of where to even begin because he could still feel the way the muscles had throbbed in pain and he was afraid to increase that pain further.

Harry hesitated and by doing that he immediately caught Snape's reaction to such an hesitation. It took all his efforts not to begin with a stream of protestation, but he couldn't seem to find the proper words to say. So instead he said whatever came to his mind.

"Don't think that." Snape's thoughts and emotions retreated at the whispered words, but Harry continued to speak anyway. "You're not ugly. You're not...ugly. You're -" Harry's breath caught again. "You must know already that I don't think you are. That I think you're... That I want..."

It occured to Harry then that massaging Snape's naked body may not have been his brightest idea. Not when he wanted the man so much that he was aching. Not when every stroke upon Snape's skin was like a stroke to the underside of his throbbing erection. Not when his thoughts kept providing him with images of what he wanted to do and taste on Snape's body.

He tried to retract his fingers but they wouldn't leave so instead he let them linger along the expanse of Snape's skin as he worked the potion into the different regions of Snape's back. When he was through he turned Snape back over. By then he couldn't meet the intese gaze that he knew was burning into him. He was finding it difficult to breathe as it was so to look into the amber and ebony eyes would have too much for him to bear.

'Let me give you what you want Potter. I owe you that much,' Snape said, and Harry lost to everything he was feeling, even as he shook his head in refusal. Snape reached up to trace the curve of his lips. 'You are not entirely undesirable to me and I am not so innocent as to what you desire. I must admit that I am flattered that even in my current state you want me this much. So the least that I can do is to allow you some form of release.'

"No," Harry whispered back. "Stop. Please stop." Even though he leaned into the caress of the long fingers and he clenched the sheet below his hands from where he knelt at Snape's side. "You're not even hard."

Which of course Snape wasn't and had not even twitched in Harry's direction. Snape shrugged that off though as if arousal was a rare occurence for him.

"But you are," Snape said in a logical tone. "You're shaking."

Harry caught the hand that was still lingering across his face, and he kissed it. Then because he couldn't help it, he nipped at each finger before sucking first the index finger and then the middle finger between his lips and into mouth, where he lavished them with his tongue, desperate to feel some part of Snape in some part of his body. He didn't, couldn't, even protest when the fingers slipped from his mouth to unbutton his pants and lower it to his thighs. Instead his eyes fluttered close as Severus' fingers curled around his throbbing cock. He didn't even try to hold back the gasps and moans as they spilled from his lips, before the tightening in his groin warned of his release. His eyes flew open only to meet the calm dark eyes that stared up at him before his orgasm stole him away to an abyss that was not big enough to hide his moans of pleasure.

When it was over, Harry's embarassment threatened to suffocate him and he could only stay in the room long enough to make them both decent again before hastily retreating to the living room, where he collapsed with the phone clenched tightly to his chest as he fought a wave of anxiety and nausea. Only when he had dialled each of his best friends did his breathing fall into a more relaxed pattern.

o

"Why do you want him?" Daryll's voice came sharply across the phoneline in an almost brutal seriousness. "Is it because he's injured? Because he is your patient? Is it because he owes you so much now and would never refuse you? Is it his sense of duty or his guilt that drives you? Do you want him because he is unable to stop you from wanting him Harry?"

"No."

"Why do you want him Harry?" Hermione asked this time. "Don't confuse your professional duties with your personal side. I know that you're generally good at keeping them separate but you've never been tested like this before and it would be unfair to Snape and yourself to pursue him only because he is at your disposal right now. Is that why you want him so much now after so many years of hating him?"

"Of course not!"

"Personally I think it's just bloody unhealthy because somewhere deep down he's still the greasy old sod that we knew," Ron chipped in with a grunt of displeasure. "I don't give a rat's arse why you've taken a fancy to him now Harry. The very fact that you do want him is just unbelievable. So if you do want him mate then forget about us. Whatever the hell it is, is just between the two of you and definitely not our bloody business."

Harry sat a long time before the burning flame in the fireplace as he pondered the question of his now overwhelming attraction to Severus Snape and all he could come up with was that it did not matter how he came to such a state. All he knew was that it had felt amazing to have Snape's hand upon him and he desperately wanted more now.

It did not matter why he wanted Snape. All that mattered was that he just did.

oXo

_**Glossary**_

**Caliga** - darkness, gloom, mist

**Animus** - soul, spirit, intellect

**Mortifer** - deadly, death-bringing

**Abluo** - to wash, clean, cleanse


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **For as long as he lived Harry was never going to forget the sight of those black eyes in pain. The light hit Snape from the side and then it seemed to cover him as he turned in it to face the boy he had protected so many times before. And it looked like he was melting...

**Author's note: **Sorry for the wait. Finals are mean little buggers that should be banned from all schools. Grr. Remember that this is my pet project so I apologize for the awful updating pattern. Edited for britpicking and 'obsidian'. Thanks _Whitehound _and_ Jenon_. As always I appreciate the help.

**Author:** **_Spirit_**

o

_For Tyleet27_

o

_**The Cinderman's Kiss**_

o

CHAPTER 9

o

Harry took refuge in the Potions room when his thoughts and memories became too much to endure. He looked at his situation from all different angles and frankly his brain was beginning to hurt from muddling over everything. So he did what he never thought he ever would, and gave over to the calming effect that potion brewing was all about. He chopped, ground, stirred and stirred and when the cauldron began to emit an indigo vapor he was actually tempted to start the whole process again. It would have provided him more time to think. But he didn't. Instead he slowly decanted the creamy white liquid into a glass flask.

He sat in silence, searching his mind for the part of him that was Severus Snape's consciousness.

He could tell that Snape was awake. He couldn't hear thoughts or emotions but there was an openness that was not there when Snape slept and especially if he was dreaming. So that meant that the professor had a hard time giving over to unconsciousness too. Harry wondered if the professor's thoughts were occupied in the way that his were.

Harry covered his eyes with his hands and groaned as the images of earlier emerged for yet another time.

He couldn't just sit there reliving the colors of Snape's eyes or the sensation of having hands caress his body. He had done that all night, and while he could not exactly call the night a waste having finished the potions necessary to complete Snape's healing, it had only otherwise helped to drive him half mad with arousal and confusion. One more hour of being alone with his thoughts and memory was surely going to make him mad. Harry neatly arranged the flask on the table amidsts the other four potions. He shuffled them around, traced the cold glass of their container and lined them up in decending order according to size. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly again. It was better to just get it over with, he realized, so he rose from the bench and left the Potions room in favor of giving Snape a visit.

"You need to sleep."

There was no response to that. Harry sighed uncertainly but still he entered the room and made his way over to the bed. He could see the way that Snape adamantly kept his eyes locked upon the ceiling instead of acknowledging his presence. Harry sighed softly as he sat in the bedside chair.

"Well since you're awake, would you like to sit up?" he asked.

When Snape did not answer, Harry sighed again but he went over to the bed and leaned forward. Snape wrapped his good arm around Harry's neck and the two of them maneuvered Harry easily into the position that by now they had a lot of practice in. Harry wrapped his arm from one thin shoulder to the next, giving Snape a chin rest. He wrapped his other arm around Snape's waist and gently, slowly leaned back so that Snape was reclined in his embrace. Then Harry tilted his forhead at the crux of Snape's neck and shoulder. He closed his eyes and sighed again but did not say anything.

They sat like that in silence for a while as Harry soaked up all the warmth that he could from Snape's body. He willed himself not to kiss the wrinkled skin or to consciously take deep, deep breaths that would surround him with Snape's scent. Instead he revelled silently in the confusing mass of feelings that Snape had awoken in him.

'I would prefer if you refrained from feeling guilty, Potter.'

Harry raised his head. "What?"

The quiet words continued. 'I realize that you might believe that my actions today was solely in gratitude for all that you are aspiring to do for me, and while I can understand your hesitatation in allowing me to touch you in that manner again, I'd prefer if you not blame yourself about the way I gave in to your advances. I am completely in charge of my mental faculties and can assure you that my actions are of my own accord. I...liked watching you respond to me.'

"Wha-" Harry began again, but the words began to unravel from Snape-speak to more understandable words. "I...I don't feel guilty. If I did, it would be because you are my patient and I should be able to act more professional. But," he wondered how candid he should be, "I want you. Selfishly."

'Your friends would protest.'

Harry laughed softly. "My friends do protest, but they also understand I think." He paused, resting his chin on a thin shoulder so that he could whisper the words into Snape ear. "I just wish that-" A pause again, then, "Don't make me use you. I don't want to use you, and I know that you think that it's okay to respond the way I want, but I want you to like...me, not...endure me."

'I...will endeavour to respect your wish and...I apologize if I offended you -'

"You didn't offend me," Harry interrupted gently. "I just don't want you to give in. The next time we touch like that I want you to like it too."

Snape was silent. Harry desperately wanted to know what he was thinking, but he didn't want to spoil the fact that they were finally having some sort of conversation pertaining to the attraction building between them.

'I did want it.' The words were almost hesitant. 'More than ever before. That...surprised me. I liked knowing that I could make you feel that way. It's not something I have much experience in and it was more...pleasant...than I thought.'

"Just know that it's okay to say no to me," Harry said very softly.

'I'll remember that,' Snape responded. 'If you can remember that just because my body doesn't physically respond to you does not mean that I am as immuned to your touch as I am to others.'

Harry had to bite back a smile at the way that those nonchalantly spoken words affected him. To distract himself he caught a tuft of Snape's hair between the forefinger and thumb of the hand that was draped across Snape's shoulder. The lock was not greasy like the way it had been at Hogwarts but it wasn't soft either. It was clean because Harry made sure of that every day, but it was a little coarse. It felt nice to touch, especially since Harry knew that any of his old classmates would pay galleons just for the bragging rights to say that they had touched Snape's hair and lived.

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked, still with a slight smile on his face as he simultaneously released the strand and raised his head. "I'm getting tired of the blank white wall. It gets irritating very quickly."

'When were you planning on returning to university?'

That caught Harry off-guard. "I don't know. Why?"

'Daryll tells me that you are studying Psychology at a Muggle university but you've rarely left this house.' The tone was accusing. 'Have you invented a new means by which to learn?"

Harry bristled. "Are you complaining or just tired of me? I know what I'm doing."

'Don't.' The word was rigid with something that was more than just anger, even though it was softly thought into existence. 'Don't sacrifice your future for me. I am not worth it. I've lived my life. You fought hard for yours. I don't want to be the cause of missed opportunities for you.'

"Planning to die soon?" Harry's arms tightened unconsciously. "I hate it when you act like you're nothing more than garbage and I had better treat you that way. Right now, I'm a Healer and a wizard. I can be a Psychologist and a muggle some other time. Uni isn't going to shrivel up just because I'm taking a term off."

'Well you were never any good at school Potter. I assumed that you needed all the terms that you could get.'

Harry rolled his eyes, sighed, and tilted his head back far enough that he could examine the ceiling. He muttered something softly to himself, high enough to be heard but far too low to be discerned.

'Was I supposed to decipher that?'

Harry chuckled softly. "I said that you run hot and cold so often that I never know what the hell to think when I'm talking to you. I called you an arse, Professor and I'm not apologizing so don't ask it. And I realized that I'd rather sit here like this any day than to go back to what we had in our student-teacher relationship."

'Are you always so candid?' Snape asked, affronted.

Harry laughed loudly, rolling his eyes to himself again. "Only recently. Only at night. Only with you."

Snape was silent, but beyond the general boundaries of the spell, Harry thought he could sense the hesitation that raged as Snape's private thought, just before words began to float into his mind again. He was right, they held a sense of reluctance as they were conveyed.

'I keep waiting for you to remember who you are and who I am.' A pause then. 'And I wonder what you will do when your patience runs out and your rose-tinted glassed come off.'

"I haven't worn glasses of any shade since I was seventeen," Harry countered, but he knew that Snape was serious, so he sighed again. "I won't run if that's what you're wondering."

'Perhaps you should.'

Harry swore softly, but refused to formulate a proper response to that.

"Go to sleep Snape," he repeated petulantly instead. "Surely a bit of sleep will cure your delusions."

They stayed in their position until Harry felt Snape's mind give way to sleep. Then, Harry could only ground his teeth against the sharp edges that Snape's dreams always created in his head He wished that he knew how to brew Dreamless Sleep Potion, but his potions education had certain gaps in it and many of those gaps contained the potions he was taught at Hogwarts. A reflection of his lack of attention in his teenage years obviously, since he had no trouble muddling his way through the brewing process these days.

Untangling himself gently from behind the warmth of Snape's body, Harry whispered a calming charm that he learned the year before in Mauritius, before he slipped out of the room. He grabbed the cordless phone on his way over to the fireplace in his living room and curled upon the couch, watching the way the fire glowed.

He checked the time, and subtracted six hours from it, even as his fingers dialled his intended number.

"Harry, he had better be dying," Daryll's voice threatened by way of greeting.

Harry smiled wryly. "He's not."

Something in his voice must have carried over to his response because Daryll immediately asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Harry paused. "I finished the potions. I can heal his muscles and in a few days I can try healing the burns again."

Daryll was silent for a moment then, "I see. So you're deliberating whether or not to inform your panel?"

"I'm thinking that the only panel that should be here, that deserves to be here, are you and Dobby," Harry said softly. "So I was wondering if you were sleeping."

Daryll chuckled sofly. "Maybe."

"Daryll." Harry's voice was soft but patient. "Help me."

Daryll laughed again. "I suppose I could forgo sleep in favor of being at your beck and call again. It's not like I'm a doctor or anything and need all the hours of sleep that I can get."

"Not at all," Harry taunted. "Charlene isn't over there is she?"

"Now you ask?" Daryll growled. "Open the floo."

The fire flared green before Harry stepped into it, clutching a tin of floo powder as he did. He was tempted to close his eyes, but common sense, as always, dictated that he stay alert in order to jump out at the right time. When he did, he almost landed on his face at Daryll's feet.

"No need to bow, Potter. I'm hardly powerful enough."

Harry glowered at him as he rose and began to brush soot and dust off his clothes. He was so preoccupied that he barely spared a glance at the familiar sight of Daryll's room. Instead he opened the floo canister, threw a handful of powder in and shoved his laughing friend into the green flames.

By the time Harry made it back on his end of the connection, he almost collided with an enthusiastic Dobby.

"Harry Potter wants Dobby here?"

Harry hadn't actually called for the house-elf but as usual Dobby seemed to know exactly when he was needed. All Harry had to do was pry his leg away from the bone crushing hug that Dobby bestowed upon it and smile his response down at the huge eyes.

"Will you help me and Daryll make the professor better tonight? Just the three of us?"

Dobby's eyes went wide with surprise then they immediately began to swim with tears.

"Such an honor that Harry Potter has given to Dobby. Such an honor to be an equal to such a great wizard. Harry Potter is too kind. Ever too kind," he whispered to himself, obviously very stunned by the aformentioned honor.

Harry shrugged. "It's only right, Dobby,"

"Of course I will help Harry Potter's Professor Snape." Dobby nodded enthusiastially with a huge grin spreading across his face. "Of course Dobby will help."

o

The three of them stood by Snape's bed in silence.

As if without a thought Dobby held the five flasks levitated around them and even in the candlelight the bottles glistened from the potency of the potions within. He gazed up at Harry, waiting for a command that he could follow. Harry, however, was preoccupied.

Green eyes studied the face that he was so acquainted with. Harry knew that he could probably trace the exact line that marked the change from smooth flesh to burned skin. He traced that line with his eyes now, concentrating on the images that he held in his mind of Professor Severus Snape. No one could scowl like Snape, with dark eyes burning. The colors of Snape's eyes were hidden now of course, since the calming charm was still working. The charms would be strengthened tonight as Harry worked, since he wasn't entirely certain that the potions didn't sting. It would be easier to concentrate on the task if he wasn't interrupted by screams of pain.

"Daryll." Harry didn't turn his attention away from the sleeping wizard on the bed, but from the corners of his eye he saw Daryll turn to look at him. "Grey. Blue. Grey. White. Grey. Got it?"

"Got it."

Harry looked down at his house-elf next. "Dobby, make sure Snape stays still. Hold him down if you have to but don't use any magic. If the healing chant is interrupted, we'll have to start all over again. Make sure that Daryll applies the potions correctly, alright?"

Dobby nodded enthusiastically.

Daryll reached out to manually remove Snape's clothes, turning him gently so as not to wake him. With Harry's help, he lifted Snape off the bed next, while Dobby scrambled to change the sheets to cotton white. The headboard was covered in white also, while Harry arranged Snape into the appropriate manner upon the bed. By the time he was satisfied, Dobby had covered the bedside chair and the two bedside tables also, just as Daryll snapped on a pair of white surgical gloves.

While Harry was performing the healing, nothing contaminated could come in contact with Snape's skin.

"Is everything ready?" Harry looked around at the sea of white and his two friends.

Daryll grinned. "Let's hope that when he wakes up he likes his surprise."

Instead of responding, Harry beckoned for him to follow and they went even closer to the bed, without actually making contact with the flowing sheets that were nearly brushing the floor.

"Start at the tip of his toes and work your way up," Harry instructed softly. "Apply the blue and white potions only to the affected areas. For the grey potion, apply it everywhere." He paused to give Daryll and meaningful, pointed look. "Everywhere, Daryll. His body has to be kept in homeostasis. If you miss anywhere, it will be like cutting off that part of his body."

Daryll grinned again as he moved his eyes to Snape's crotch and then back to Harry's face. "Is there anywhere in particular that you'd rather he not lose?"

Harry gave him a disgusted look which only served to make Daryll laugh.

"Alright. Let's begin then."

Harry took a deep, deep breath. His eyes fell close as he gathered his healing magic. It was a magical trait that was still so new and amazing to him. He felt it light, like a spark, in his stomach. He felt the heat of it as the fire caught and blazed through his body and he knew that soon he would be a glowing figure of pure white light. He fought to contain his magic into a blazing ball of fire, as he had been taught. Rarely could he unleash the raw force of his magic, even if it was for healing. He had done it one, just once before and it had been to kill. If he was honest, he would admit that he didn't actually hate the way it felt to be so powerful; to feel the curl of untamed energy surge through his body. He never told anyone about the way he secretly liked the sensation as it spread. With healing, this was the closest he could come to once again feeling that dark whisper of glee that he had felt that one time...that one time, when he had killed Voldemort.

But this was for Severus.

Harry fought to keep that in mind as he opened his eyes. Then, softly, slowly he began the healing chant.

o

The chant had a natural flow to it, like a river twisting and curling its way towards a larger, stronger resting place. The words were a combination of Latin and Gaelic words. It was elemental magic, which meant that from it came the runes of the Scandanavians and the fortune telling magic of the Gypsies. Earth. Fire. Wind. Water. All healing magic was rooted in the strength and weaknesses of the universe. Each chant, the more powerful they were, was an exchange or a borrowing. Something in Harry always recognized this. It was a gift to be as he was where the elements embraced him and magic was almost instinctive. He didn't have to think sometimes, he would just do it before he even knew that he was able to.

The words flowed from his mouth now, as if his lips had always curved around the unfamiliar syllables.

As if he was standing outside of his own body, Harry watched as a cloud of thin white mist swirled around the room. He heard his voice, steadily saying the words but when he smiled at the calming aspects of the chant, his voice didn't waver or pause. It was strange but not uncomfortable to find that this conscious part of himself was only existing in an abstract form.

He watched as Daryll applied the first coat of the grey potion, which would keep Snape's body stable. And suddenly he could hear and feel all of Snape's vital information.

Pulse...steady.

Blood-pressure...falling slightly but not enough for concern.

Respiration...low but stable.

Temperature...normal.

With just a thought, Harry slowed his chanting to wait until Daryll had completed that first application. He watched as Dobby wrung his fingers in anticipation and he almost laughed at the way the little house-elf was almost vibrating with excitement. When Daryll turned to Dobby and spoke, it didn't seem all that weird that Harry couldn't understand their words. It was in a language that Harry didn't think that he had ever heard before. He concentrated very hard and slowly the language came to him.

English. How odd.

Daryll was asking Dobby to pass the blue potion to him, quickly.

Dobby wasn't moving all that quickly actually. He seemed to be moving slower than was necessary. It was almost as if he was alternating between slow motion and normal speed. That startled Harry a bit. So, with another thought he turned a small part of his attention to the house-elf.

Immediately there were two sets of heart-beats. One far softer, but descernably faster than the other. There were two sets of steady respiration and the blood-pressure information was tangling with each other.

Harry turned back to Snape quickly and sighed in relief when there was only the one set of enhanced readings flooding his system again.

Daryll began to apply the blue potion and Harry increased the chanting again. This time he felt himself slip bast the barriers of Snape's flesh. He cringed at how wrong it felt to slide through the burned portions, that in most areas had damage that went beyond just the two layers of cells that made up the skin. He had to actually fight the wave of need that surged through him in the most distracting manner, to fix the wrong. Later, he had to promise, and that seemed to appease the chant.

He felt the mass of muscles surround him, and beneath his fingertips he could feel the tendons and ligaments.

Harry raised his hand and saw his arms extend above Snape's body. But, his attention was stolen away again by the chant. It knew that this was what the potion was telling it to help and Harry had no choice but to give in to the desire to do just that. So, he reached out to stroke his fingers lightly over the twisted bundles of muscle fibres that made up a muscle. The fascicles twitched beneath his touch. Then, slowly, as if Harry himself was untangling and prying each little fibre into the correct formation, the muscles began to be molded into the correct structure.

He worked quickly, staying almost at the end of Daryll's fingers each time, going just barely slower than the potion was being applied. It seemed very important to not let Daryll get too far ahead in their silent race.

When he finished just a few seconds after Daryll finished, Harry laughed out silently, in exhileration.

Dobby was quicker this time in passing the second vial of grey potion. Daryll was quicker too as he meticulously applied it. He knew the contours of the body that he was working with now and the years of working with broken bodies gave him a professional competence that showed in the way that his fingers danced quickly, not missing anywhere, not even doubting that he had gotten the application right.

As if it was surfacing again from a deep pool of water, the sensation of Snape's vital information flooded Harry's consciousness loudly, once again.

Respiration...still stable.

Temperature...normal.

Blood pressure...stable.

Pulse...increasing.

Was he waking? Harry didn't want to risk it so he quickly incorporated the calming effect within the chant again and watched as the mist lulled Snape. Pulse decreased. Respiration decreased slightly. Harry slowed the chant again as Daryll finished up. Dobby had the white potion already levitated and on it's way over. Daryll caught it mid-flight.

The white potion stung, just as Harry thought it would.

He felt, actually felt, Snape's body go rigid. But, the chant was holding Snape captive beneath a wave of calm that no pain could break through. Still Harry saw Dobby indicate the change to Daryll. Harry didn't try to decipher their strange words this time. He impatiently willed Daryll to see that nothing was wrong and it almost seemed to work as Daryll said something in their strange language to the house-elf. Dobby nodded enthusiastically but only backed away as Daryll crossed his path and then walked around Harry. Harry didn't see what they did, but Snape seemed to relax slightly.

Then Daryll returned to applying the potion and Harry was pulled back into the warmth of Snape's body.

He didn't have to do anything this time except watch as the potion seeped in and covered the muscles. He reached out to touch, as the potion was absorbed. Then he smiled happily at the absolutely normal way that the muscles felt. Warm and alive. Healed. Harry felt the healing magic inside of him lose most of its urgency. He traced each muscle anyway just to make sure that they were all healing nicely. They felt weak and tired. Harry didn't like that, but he knew that it wasn't potions or magic that would make them stronger. It was excercise and the right nutrients.

As soon as Daryll was finish, Harry began to retreat.

He had just made it back out when, before it physically happened, he felt his breath hitch. The chant stumbled from his lips. And Daryll, swung around to look at him in shock. It was okay for Snape though because the healing had already been completed. But for Harry, a strange saporific wave seemed to wash over him. It was sapping away all his energy. It was pulling him away... Back into the darkness... Into the confines of Snape's body... Into the strange white mist around them... Into many tiny pieces... It occured to Harry then, that perhaps he shouldn't have performed such an extensive healing when he had stayed awake for nearly twenty-four hours.

He gasped aloud at the uncomfortable sensation of splitting apart, and was surprised when he heard the gasp echo into the room. He hadn't even realized that he had completed the chant.

"Harry!"

Harry heard his name but he didn't turn to his friend. Instead his eyes locked with the gaze of the man he had been so determined to heal.

One obsidian colored eye and the other a light topaz color was the only indication that Snape had awoken. Perhaps by the shout. Harry wasn't to know. The fog around him darkened and he felt as if he was floating. Like a cloud, each appendage felt like it was drifting, separating, from his body. It didn't hurt. Perhaps it was the shock that he knew his body was falling into, but at least he realized that if he really was breaking, then he should be bleeding. Since he wasn't, then it couldn't be so bad.

"Better...now." His voice sounded far away.

Then he watched in absolute fascination as the amber eye began to darken slowly. To caramel. Brown. Light brown. Coffee brown. And he smiled tiredly when the shade became dark. Black. Obsidian. Snape blinked to focus and it wasn't the usual painfully slow blink but a natural, easy, shuttering that hid the two dark eyes from view only long enough for Harry to miss the sight of them for a split second.

"Severus do you mind?"

Daryll didn't seem to wait for a response of any kind. Harry felt the strong arms pick him up like a sack of potatoes and after a quick stride over to the other side of the bed, he was haphazardly deposited on the bed. Harry made a mental note to hit Daryll later for the lack of care. But just as the words of protest formed on his lips, Snape's left hand rose to hover over his face. When the warmth of fingertips lightly traced the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, Harry couldn't help himself. All thoughts flew out of his head and he inched closer to the thing that was pulling him back together and making him whole again.

'Sleep...Harry.'

Harry caught the hand that was stroking his cheek almost reverently. He pressed the fingers to his lips without thought and released the hand only long enough to make sure that he was within its embrace. He rested his head on Snape's chest and heard the heatbeat that he had been listening to for the past hour. It was softer than the pulse rate reading that the grey potion had been feeding him, but it was enough.

He only barely heard Daryll's half amused, half surprised chuckle.

"Right. so I guess I'll come and check on the two of you later. Dobby will floo me out. Bye Harry." Daryll's voice was soft and soothing. "Severus, make sure that he sleeps. I can just bet that he almost collapse just now, because he's been worried about you. Come on Dobby."

The room was silent, then Harry felt a twinge of something complex, whisper through his mind and he recognized it as the part of Snape that he loved to miss.

'Thank you...for being a stubborn, Gryffindor and the man so many had a right to believe in.'

Harry tiredly nuzzled the naked chest beneath his face, wondering how there was no hint of the potions that the skin had been bathed in. It was crinkled and soft and smelled refreshingly of Snape. He wanted to respond and say that he had just been doing his job, but some part of him knew that it was much, much more complicated than that, so he held his tongue and decided to tell Snape that he was welcomed, some other time when his brain and his mouth became reacquainted again.

Sleep came, naturally to Harry thereafter, and it lulled his exhaustion.

oXo


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry.

**Rating: R**

**Warning: Graphic description.**

**Summary: **For as long as he lived Harry was never going to forget the sight of those black eyes in pain. The light hit Snape from the side and then it seemed to cover him as he turned in it to face the boy he had protected so many times before. And it looked like he was melting...

**Thanks: **To **_Pearls-x-pills_** who sent me in search of music, **_Silverphoenix69_** who is always willing to read for me and **_Tyleet27_** who shared her most beautiful fandom with me.

**Author's note: **Be warned...this is one of my pet projects so updates may be erratic.

**Author:****_Spirit_**

o

_**The Cinderman's Kiss**_

o

CHAPTER 10

o

Harry tapped his fingers against the glass of the window that he was standing before. In its reflection he could see his mentor still bent over the stone bowl that looked very much like a pensieve. It wasn't. The stone bowl contained his entire thesis on Intabescopestis and his case study. The few minutes that she had been looking through it, should have torture but Harry spent the time thinking of how to respond to the questions that he knew would come once she emerged.

"This is very good Harry."

Harry spun around at the sound of her voice.

"Thank you Healer Kelley." He smiled politely, making his way back over to where he should have been sitting.

The senior Healer smiled at him, but there was the curiosity that Harry had expected to see in her eyes. She was far too kind to just rudely ask what she wanted to know though and Harry had no intentions of saying anything incriminating, so they both sat in mild silence, waiting. She gave him a look of exasperation.

"How is he?"

Harry shrugged. "He's doing okay, all things considering. His muscles ache him, so I started him on a more intense physio to keep them active. I'm building a pool in the backyard, which I'm assured will relax him and make his exercises seem less strenuous."

"Isn't Doctor Stetingson away at the moment?"

Harry nodded. Daryll had indeed called him recently with heartfelt apologies that he was needed in Mauritius for six months. He was very willing to keep up with the floo travelling if Harry could contact someone at the Wizarding Embassy there. Harry however, declined the offer, telling Daryll that he would be fine on his own. The next day an older man had showed up outside the door claiming to have been asked to perform a favour for Daryll and since he too had a wizarding background, it would be no trouble to look after Severus. Harry had called Daryll. Daryll told him to stop being an ass and accept the help. Harry told him to mind his own sodding business. All in all, by the end of the evening they had decided to do the whole conversation all over again every two or so days because Daryll wanted to know the second that Severus was well enough to have his bones jumped by Harry.

"Dr. Peter Wilton is working with him now," Harry said with a smile. "His style is vastly different from Daryll's but the patient has no complaints so far."

Healer Kelley gave him another searching look and sighed softly when she couldn't figure out his expression. She looked over at the stone bowl again, a little lost in thought as to what she had seen in it. Then she sighed again.

"You know that you have always been a part of St. Mungo's staff in everything but title. You're already respected by the other Healers and that's not only because of your name. This study of yours will yield great information for the Healing community and I'd be a fool to deny that I'm not excited at the prospect of having it published under St. Mungo's name. Are you sure that this is what you want to do though? This glory should be yours alone, not covered under the reputation of the hospital."

Harry nodded, although his eyes slid downwards and away from her as he responded softly, "It is what I want. He deserves to be honoured for his work as a spy and he should be revered for his sacrifices. St. Mungo's reputation as an institution of healing is greater than my reputation as a Healer. I want him to have the best care there is, even if it means that I have to hand him over to the care of the hospital and give up my sole right as his Healer."

"Is that the only reason?" Harry's eyes jump back up to meet his mentor's but she merely looked at him and continued. "I know that you believe in St. Mungo's, otherwise you probably would not even have agreed to write your thesis on him. I know that you feel that you're still too new to really be able to figure out on you own the kind of care that he needs. But you've done all the difficult parts. My curiosity lies in the fact that you're doubting your competence as a Healer with him when you and I both know that you've helped him far better than many others could have. So my question is, what else lies beyond this decision to not be his Healer anymore?"

Harry turned away, not meeting her eyes, not knowing how to answer and not answering at all. He heard her shift in her seat and draw in a deep breath as if she already knew the answer to her question.

"Harry." Her voice was not quite stern but the possibility was still there. "Off the record, should I be worried that you've vastly overstepped some boundaries with this patient?"

"Not yet," Harry murmured.

"But you're afraid that you could?"

Harry nodded.

She shook her head. "I knew about your altercations with him when you were at Hogwarts. I find it very strange that of all the conversations that I could be having with you about Severus Snape, it is this one. Especially, now when I've already had the shock of finding out that it's not some random wizard that you've been hiding in your house, but a fugitive." She raised her hand when Harry opened his mouth to protest. "A fugitive Potter, until I let you out of this office so that you can wrangle a meeting with the Wizengamot. And now I hear that you, who have already bonded with him as his Healer, is unwilling to continue in that vein because you are afraid of your feelings towards him."

Harry smiled. "Are we still off the record Healer?"

She looked like she wanted to give him a good cuff about his ear for that, which just made Harry laugh softly. That made her smile too.

"Off the record," she said pointedly. "I think that this is a very wise decision that you're making. Business and pleasure don't go too good together, but if the possibility is there for you to get Snape to do anything but snap at you, I'd tip my hat off to you and tell you to go for it with your whole heart. So I'll grant you permission to transfer his healing to St. Mungo's and whomever we appoint, and I'll wish you luck and tell you that though this is the last thing I expected of you Potter, I'm a happy for you. I'm also very proud of you for being responsible like this and coming to me before you blurred that line of your duties as his Healer too much."

"Thank you." Harry nodded his gratitude.

She nodded too. "Now that that's settled, there is only one thing left to do it seems."

She handed him a scroll to sign. When he was finished, she gave him a pin of of St. Mungo's insignia and smiled. Harry stared at it for a very long time before he looked up grinning in a very un-healer-like way.

"Welcome to St. Mungo's staff Healer Potter. Your reputation precedes you and so I trust that you'll bring with you the same level of dedication and hard work that I know you're capable of. I know that you won't disappoint me."

o

The days that followed were a whirlwind of activity for Harry.

On those rare days when he stayed home it was spent in his new library pouring over books and scrolls for hours as he researched curses and cures. He spent hours writing and transcribing, practising and pondering everything that had to do with healing, anxious that he was not ready for the responsibility of being a fully trained Healer. It didn't matter that his mentor had not been exaggerating when she said that he had been a part of St. Mungo's staff long before he had even been considering a thesis scroll. The fact that he now carried the title caused him intense bouts of nervousness. Luckily for him, once he got into the rhythm of St. Mungo's it was to realize that his life wasn't going to be drastically different. Then he was able to fit right in with the other Healers.

Fitting in meant that he spent as much time as he could on duty in the hospital, leaving early in the morning and returning late at night.

"Go home Harry," he would hear from Healer Kelly, once she understood what he was doing.

He would smile tiredly at her, giving her a pleading look and asking if he could just spend one more hour, because didn't he just see someone come in with the effects of a spell gone awry. She would give him an exasperated look, searching his tired green eyes and not understanding what she was seeing in them, except for the silent, unspoken pleas in their depth not to let him face whatever waited for him at home. But it wasn't her place to ask. Inevitably she would nod and he would smile gratefully at her, though the sadness remained, and she was left confused and worried.

Harry would be grateful for the extended opportunity to lose himself in his work. He didn't have to think about the fact that ground had been broken on the construction of the new pool and the work was going by so quickly that he had to be careful not to absent mindedly walk into the huge precipice in his backyard that was to become said pool. When he worked, he didn't have to pass the recovery room often and be tempted to peak inside or to walk by the guest room and pay his guest a visit.

He didn't think about Severus for hours when he worked. He told himself that this was a relief.

"Good morning Healer Potter," he would be told each morning as he opened his door and the new Healer would be standing in almost the exact same spot that he had bid her goodnight the night before, as if she never slept.

He would nod at her, ignoring the way her eyes followed his every movement even though she was decidedly a good six or so years older than him. Smiling a smile that always felt like a grimace, he would wish her a good morning also. Then he would walk past the guest room, refusing to look in. Refusing to walk into the room. Refusing to climb into the bed, if only to feel Severus and smell Severus and just remember what it felt like to wake up next to the other man. Refusing, to acknowledge Severus' presence in his house.

At precisely nine o'clock the doorbell would ring and Harry would sigh in relief. Shuffling quickly to the door, much quicker than he needed to actually, he would open it with another half grimace, for Doctor Wilton to step in. Then he would proceed to direct the physiotherapist to the guest room, only remember half way through the instructions that the good doctor had a perfectly fine memory and was capable of recalling the location of a room that he visited every day.

"Is he awake?" The doctor always asked and as always Harry would pretend to consult with the white space in his head for a second before nodding.

"Should be." Sometimes he wondered if the good doctor could always tell when he was lying and knew of the fact that he didn't have a clue as to Severus' state of consciousness, most days.

He would Apparate to St. Mungo's half an hour early for his shift but beginning his rounds anyway. He was always grateful for the distraction. Soon the hours began to melt together, sometimes without him even noticing how much time had gone by. Once Healer Kelley noticed, she would send him home immediately. He was grateful for nights like those when he would Apparate to his front lawn, his fatigue catching up to him at an alarming speed, so by the time he got to the door he would be yawning repetitively.

Those were usually the nights when he was too tired to fight and so he would indulge himself, making no excuses and having no pretences as he padded his way along the corridor to the guest room. He pressed his cheek against the hard wood, fancying that he could hear Severus' breathing through the barrier, laughing at himself for his ridiculousness. Yet, aching terribly from the need to just walk in and press his cheek against Severus' forehead so that he really could hear Severus breathe. He knew that if he had half of a good sense he would face that fact that he knew that the way he felt about Severus had nothing and perhaps never did have anything to do with the time he spent being his healer. But he couldn't be absolutely sure without doing what he was doing. So he stayed away, giving himself and Severus some space, to think.

Lying alone in his bed, missing the sound of Severus' voice in his head and the sight of Severus' eyes piercing him, usually made him want to both laugh and swear at himself because absence really does make the heart grow fonder. If he hadn't been falling in love with the snarky, grumpy, lump who was taking up good bed space in his guest room, well the time spent forcing himself away was certainly feeding the flames and making it more possible.

So the hours became days. The days became weeks. Soon, the weeks had become a month and then two months.

Harry got an official Owl from the Wizengamot stating that his court date was coming up and to please confirm if he still wished to have an audience with the members of the court. Harry responded promptly that he would indeed still like to present a case to the court. Not a day too soon it seemed because a week later his thesis paper was added to St. Mungo's Archives where anyone with good connections and a sizeable curiosity could look up the account which for all the world, was afterall public knowledge and fair game to speculate upon. The fact that even though St. Mungo's was officially named as responsible for the healing, Harry's name appeared as the Healer to treat the inflictions of the Intabescopestis curse on Severus Snape, was fodder enough for the papers and the rumour mills.

"Is it true that Severus Snape bear the marks of the Intabescopestis curse?" The Speaker-spells would come at him from all angles as he worked his way through crowds of curious reporters.

"He did. His Healer told me recently that the burns are being treated satisfactorily." Harry wiped a hand across his tired eyes. "I haven't seen him yet."

"Haven't seen him!" They screeched in outrage. "Does he not live with you?"

"Yes."

The murmurs would rise dramatically even though Harry was pretty sure that they knew everything about the situation and could not possibly have been as shocked as they seemed.

"The report says that you cured him of the curse. Is this true?"

"Yes," Harry would respond again, tired and monotonous.

"Are you still his Healer then?"

"No, I just said that his new Healer spoke to me about his burns." That would get them for asking questions to which they already knew the answer.

From there the inquisition often took a turn for the worst. They were never just satisfied with the fact that he was responding to the medical questions and someone inevitably brought up Snape's past. Wanting to know if Harry wasn't afraid of the Death Eater in his house. Did Harry have proper security at home? Was there an emergence floo that Harry could escape by? Wasn't it dangerous for the Muggles and Squibs involved, to be so near to a murderer? Wanting to know about the rumoured meeting with the Wizengamot and the fact that Harry had been casually looking around for a new wand. Was the wand for Snape? Did the Aurors break it? Did that mean that Snape was soon well enough to brandish a wand again?

It was mentally draining to face them each day.

So when Harry wasn't trying to avoid his own house, he spent time avoiding everyone else. He volunteered at a centre for troubled youths, all of two towns away and was usually found distracting himself on his days off at St. Mungo's or during his lunch hours, or just generally when he found that he was distracted by a random twinge of emotion from Severus. He told himself that it was better for him to run to people who needed help than to run to Severus who was in as capable hands as money and fame could buy.

o

It came as a genuine surprise to Harry when the pool was finished and one day he looked out his window, into his backyard to see the vast expanse of shimmering water.

He had gotten the bill for it of course, but since he hardly stayed home, to be confronted with the finished product was startling. The fact that the day he chose to look out just happened to also be one of those days where Severus was immersed in the cool water, meant that he couldn't stop staring. Watching the way that Wilton held up the unresponsive body, wrapping Severus' fingers on the metal rails that lined the walls, and had to patiently guide Severus through the exercises, made Harry wish that he was down there giving moral support. Watching as the proud ex-professor smiled every time he curled a limb on his own and struggled every time he couldn't, made Harry rest his fingers harder against the glass pane, smiling through his unshed tears and biting his lower lips, silently begging and encouraging.

He opened his mind as widely as he could, feeding off the jolts of joy and determination and fear. He felt like his whole being was focussed on Severus and he wanted to wrap the older wizard in his own fears and warmth and strength. His breath caught every time he felt a response and he wondered if Severus could feel him watching. But if he couldn't stand by him and be his light, he could be there in the shadows watching. It made him ache, but he didn't want to tear his eyes away.

"You're mental you know."

Harry didn't have to turn around to know his best friend's voice. It didn't even seem to be expected as Ron went to stand beside him, gazing down at the pool and the men who seemed to be dancing within it. It was quite comforting actually, when there was the unmistakeable sound of the Floo opening again and his other best friend went to stand on his other side. Hermione pried his fingers from the glass and grasped them comfortingly in her own fingers, marking invisible circles on the back of his palm, pressing a kiss to it when he didn't even look away to acknowledge her presence.

They stood in silence for a long time and Harry liked that too. He couldn't seem to think of anything to explain himself or why they hadn't been able to get a hold of him for months. He wouldn't put it pass Daryll to set them on his trail, but it was good to be with them, knowing that they understood even without the explanation.

"Man, you don't even fall in love like everyone else," Ron griped softly. "Anyone else would be swoony and gushy, but you get all distant and quiet. And look who you chose."

Harry chuckled but it came out sounding like a cross between a gasp and a choke.

"So I've been thinking, while I've been standing here, that maybe it's time I stop hiding from how I feel," he declared, finally, finally turning away. "Maybe I owe him an explanation."

"Sounds good," Hermione said, giving him an encouraging smile. "Whenever you're ready. He's been very patient. I've never seen him so calm and accepting. I think he understands that you needed to be sure of how you felt."

"I don't think that I believed that I could ever feel so empty without him," Harry admitted softly. "I've spent six years hating him, wishing the worst possible things upon him, and now...now I just want him to be better. I need him. I miss him."

Hermione tilted her head upon his shoulder. Ron shuffled, in a slightly uncomfortable manner but still, he was the one to respond.

"I'm thinking that maybe that's a good thing, mate." He gave Harry a pointed look although he was turning slightly red. "You look like shit. Like you're only half here. If he is what you want, I'm thinking that that's okay."

o

Despite his discussion with Hermione and Ron, Harry's routine didn't change much. He still spent as much time as he could at the hospital working himself weary or hopping over to the centre where he could be even more useful. The one difference was that he spent more time with his hands against Severus' door, telling himself that he would enter only when he had a good reason and missing him was not good enough.

An opportunity arose when the Wizengamot decided to hear the case on Severus Snape. They had heard the rumours, but to retain their unbiased stance, many of them claimed to not have read the report in St. Mungo's on Snape's condition. Harry therefore, had to present the entire scenario all over again, where Voldemort cast the curse and Snape stepped in front to save Harry. Being that it was such an obviously nasty curse that the Dark Lord had been especially fond of in the later day, Harry thought that they took their own sweet time to make their ruling. He was bombarded with a load of unnecessary questions while on the stand, that he had to grit his teeth and answer anyway.

"Please note that the defendant is not in the courtroom to hear his own case. Seems bloody irresponsible if you ask me!"

Harry gave the wizard who spoke a death glare. "You bloody prick you know he can't be here!"

Scrimgeour gave Harry a warning glance and told everyone to get on with the questioning instead of voicing disparaging comments. The other members of the Wizengamot muttered to themselves but soon another interrogator spoke up.

"Where were you on the night in question where it is alleged that Severus Snape showed signs of bravery in the sight of clear and unmistakeable danger?"

"Saving your sodding arses," Harry muttered, but since they were still all staring back at him he shifted in the chained chair. "On the night in question I was somewhere in the highlands of Scotland fighting Voldemort. I don't know where exactly. Voldemort didn't exactly serve up tea and show me around. Do you want proof of that?" Harry held up his pensieve which contained all the evidence he needed, and more. "I'm sure if we dig deep enough in your memories too you'll remember that you couldn't be sitting here, right as rain, if the bastard was still alive."

"Mr. Potter, please refrain from derogatory comments and calling the late Dark Lord's name out loud," Scrimgeour chided. "We'll uh accept that you did indeed kill him on that night. Now was Severus Snape there?"

And so the questions went on until finally everyone seemed to run out of things to ask or say and the ruling was finally given.

"We the Wizengamot hereby rule that Severus Snape has been acquitted of all charges of being a loyal Death Eater as it has been proven that he sacrificed himself in the hopes of allowing Harry Potter, the time to dispose of He-Who-Must-Never-Ever-Be-Named." Scrimgeour's voice was proud and official. Harry gave him a look worthy of hell.

"What about the Order of Merlin!"

The Wizengamot exploded in noise. Scrimgeour ruffled some papers, squirmed in his seat, cleared his throat a couple times before he was finally able to meet Harry's eyes again. When he did he quickly looked away with a frown.

"Fine," he muttered. "We the Wizengamot hereby declare Severus Snape a war hero and allot him the Order of Merlin First Class for his actions against Voldemort, declaring him a full and acceptable member of the Wizarding community again whereby under no circumstances should aspirations be cast upon his character condemning him as a Death Eater as it has been proven that he did his duties under the cover of being a spy."

Harry waited, eyebrow raised. Scrimgeour squirmed some more then inhaling a deep breath he exhaled it in a rush of words.

"He can get his damn job at Hogwarts back if he wants or anywhere he fancies next, as no one's going to bloody stop him! The Ministry will pay half his medical expenses and reward him with one thousand galleons for his pain and suffering and whatever else he endured in his years in exile outside of the Wizarding community. He can be fitted for another wand on us too, because we're already going to be paying out of our arses for this anyway so why the hell not!"

o

Two weeks later, when Harry got the official papers to prove that he had won his case, he immediately took them home to Severus.

He stood outside the door feeling like an idiot but not knowing where to find the energy to face those dark eyes again. Turned out that he had nothing to fear as Severus was asleep. Harry didn't want to risk waking him, knowing that Severus' days were exhausting with all his physical exercises and the healing that he had to slowly be enduring. He meant to just put the scroll down on the bedside table and leave but he couldn't resist taking a long look at the man on the bed.

And there was the face that he knew so well.

It wasn't entirely healed, but the wrinkles of the skin was gone, leaving only the pinkness that appeared only mildly blotchy. Harry could see the sharp widow's peak, could trace the curve of chin and jaw and throat. It was too much for Harry to find the energy to resist so he reached out to lightly glide his fingers along the pink flesh.

"It's not fair," Harry whispered. "You tell me to be brave but protect me from myself. You call me a hero but turn out to be more heroic than I could ever imagine. You make me run from you but hide when I seek you out. It's not fair that you should be hurt when I'm the one who was too young and too naive."

He fell to his knees, laying his head on Snape's chest and listening to the steady heartbeats that echoed within.

"I did something right today," he murmured. "I got you your freedom back."

The fingers in his hair startled him.

Harry raised his head slowly and looked into the dark eyes that gazed back at him looking more confused and more stern than ever before. Harry smiled shyly, not knowing if words were expected. There didn't seem to be as Snape threaded the fingers of both his hands deeper into Harry's hair, gently massaging his scalp. One set trailed down the side of his face. The previously abused fingertips felt warm against Harry skin. Harry wondered if the warmth was just as addictive to Severus, who traced every curve and angle that he could touch.

Harry caught the other hand in his hand, aligning Snape's palm with his palm and loving the contrast between the colours of their skin and the texture of their flesh. Harry's hand was by no means small, but it felt tiny in comparison to Snape's. The heat of their combined palms, felt amazing to the younger wizard. Harry shifted, his gaze falling away as he hid the curl of desire that he was sure was tinting his iris.

Severus wouldn't allow it. He grazed Harry's lips with the back of his knuckles. Harry's mouth fell slightly open. He raised his eyes again but Severus' eyes were focussed on his mouth and on that point where his knuckle disappeared beyond the cherry-coloured lips. Harry opened his mouth slightly wider, scraping his teeth against the nearest joint, smiling when he saw Snape's eyes narrowed. The fingers slid away until just the nail of the index finger teased Harry's bottom lip.

Harry flickered his tongue, lifting the unresisting tip into his mouth until the nail balanced on his teeth and his tongue could play with the rest of the finger.

Severus licked his own lip. Harry almost moaned aloud. Severus shot him a glare, pulling his finger away and Harry could only grin and shrug. The hand that had been quietly cradling his face, moved to slowly cover his eyes. Harry's smile got wider. A second later it was wiped away as Severus sat up in the bed, obviously struggling with the effort but managing to get his stiff hips to cooperate. Harry waited in the silence, wondering what Snape planned.

He didn't expect the finger that insinuated itself inside his mouth, spreading the wetness from his tongue upon his lips. He didn't expect the warm stream of air that followed that was gently blown to cool the fluid. Harry gasped silently, clutching at the sheets with his hands. The hand over his eyes slid away and Harry was faced once more with dark eyes, closer but now a little hesitant. Harry shook his head, hoping that Severus understood that it was okay. Raising his hand, he used his index finger to trace a line down the centre of Severus' face, following the curve of the burn mark.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, shattering the silence. "I didn't mean to abandon you. I really wanted to be the one to fix your burns and get you on your feet again. But you're doing okay, right?"

'If you were any other man, Potter, I might have been offended.' Severus responded, catching Harry's hand in his. "I find however that spending nearly half a year away from you gave me adequate amount of time to deal with whatever confusing feelings that you evoke in me. No doubt, this was your plan. But I understand that you needed space and I needed to figure out what you mean to me.'

"And what have you figured out?" Harry smirked, lacing their fingers together.

"That although I like you on your knees before me, it is not your place."

Severus tugged on Harry's hand. Harry got the message and slowly slid properly onto the bed. Severus gave him a pointed look and lifted the covers. Harry hesitated briefly, not knowing just how mobile Severus was these days and afraid that he could set the man back a few months if he wasn't careful. Severus' legs felt warm and strong as Harry shifted beneath the covers to sit at Severus' side. He smiled when he felt Severus slowly slide his legs over until their legs were pressed together.

'I have never given any of myself to anyone before. I'm not sure if I understand how to let go entirely and allow someone else in, but I crave your presence. I feel, when you're near me and ache when you are not. I don't know if I know how to love beyond the emptiness inside of me, but I know that should I not try I will lose those feelings that you evoke that make me feel complete. I missed your voice. I missed your hands. I never thought it was possible to miss the feel of you in my arms but that one time that I held you is burned into my memory. I need what you do to me when you are near."

Harry forgot how to breathe but Severus turned away, not noticing the way that Harry's fingers tightened around his hand.

'These are the most beautiful words that I will ever be able to give you but if you want me, I give my word that you will never doubt my affections in other ways." Severus continued, but Harry interrupted with a groan, pressing his face at the crux of Severus' neck and shoulder.

"I'm not sure that I deserve such beautiful words in the first place," he whispered. "I missed you too."

'Stay?' The word lingered, soft and guarded.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked him. "I don't want to tire you out."

Severus scowled, though he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist as the younger wizard snuggled up to him. 'I am always tired. Always weak. Having you remain for an extended period could hardly do much damage. I'm told every day that it will be another few months before I can even attempt walking on my own as my leg muscles are still very weak. But, my arms work just fine as you've no doubt noticed. Will you require me to jump through hoops if you do remain? Tell me because I'll need to prepare myself mentally you see."

"Prat," Harry breathed. "I'll stay."

Together, they manoeuvred Snape's body back into a lying position. It was obviously easier to drag his body into a sitting position than it was to slide back down. No amount of concentration and determination could get his legs to work again like they had earlier. Once they began to shake with fatigue Harry told Snape to stop trying and he rearranged the limbs into a comfortable position. All that was left then was for Harry to lie down beside him and use him as a human pillow, which Harry was only too willing to do. He pressed a quick kiss to Snape's chest, smiling when he saw the confusion in Snape's gaze again.

'You'll have to tell me how you do that some day.'

Considering that he had spent months in mostly silence where parts of him began to crave the sound of Severus' drawl in his mind, Harry was only too willing to prolong conversation between them.

"Do what?"

Severus' eyes shuttered briefly. 'Look at me like you don't see the burns and smile at me as if you don't notice my disfigurement and my useless body parts.'

Harry would have protested, and in fact was already trying to sit back up into the bed so that he could properly look at Snape, but Severus stopped him, trapping him against his body and lightly brushing his fingers over Harry's lips.

'I said to tell me one day,' he chided. 'Not now. Right now I think you need more sleep than I do and that can't be a healthy thing.'

Harry pouted, but he knew when to let an issue go.

Besides it felt good to be lying half draped across Severus' chest once more. He found however that it was difficult to just fall asleep after that. He laid there lost in thought, listening to Severus fall asleep with deep slow breaths, and stiff muscles finally relaxing. Harry lightly played with the cloth covered chest beneath his fingers, reminding himself yet again of how much he had missed this room and this man.

oXo


End file.
