The final battle was over; Voldemort's broken body given a wide berth as teachers, students, and Order members alike made their way through the carnage in search of surviviors, a sort of quiet desperation in their visages as they scanned each of the fallen's faces, looking for family and friends.

It was a sort of muted chaos, trying to sort out the bodies of those who had fought for the Light from those fallen from the ranks of the Death Eaters.

It was almost too easy for one particular student to slip away from those searching for him almost frantically in the melee, and he didn't even have his father's invisibility cloak.

Almost sick with exhaustion, both physical and magical, Harry Potter stumbled through the rubble-strewn halls of Hogwarts, mind reeling with the destruction wrought on the only place he had ever truly called 'home'.

The urge to retreat to Gryffindor Tower and collapse stole over him, but he resolutely ignored it, turning away in favor of moving downward instead, feeling oddly soothed by the cooler air as he made his way further into the dungeons.

Ironically, the part of the castle most favored by the majority of the Death Eater's children was the least-damaged. Then again, the whole point of the battle had been to keep the Dark Lord's army out of Hogwarts, away from the students who were too young to fight, so most of the fighting had been confined to the Entrance Hall and surrounding corridors.

Shaking his head slightly at his straying train of thought, Harry waved his wand at what had been Snape's private quarters, testing for defensive magic on the portal and slightly surprised to find traces of what seemed to have been rather pathetic wards, but nothing active.

That didn't mesh at all with what Harry knew of Severus Snape's attention to detail (read: paranoia), especially given that he always had rare and extremely expensive potions ingredients in his personal stores.

Frowning, he focused on a more-detailed scan and blinked upon realizing that someone had forcibly torn through the wards, leaving them ripped to shreds and barely discernable to a cursory scan, and from the looks of the remnants, the wards had rivaled those laid on Hogwarts herself by the founders millenia ago.

More than likely, some lucky Death Eater had snuck down during Harry's fight with Voldemort, after hearing the truth about where Snape's loyalties lay, and slaked their thirst for vengeance by ripping through his wards with as much violence as possible.

Harry was almost afraid to see what the interloper had done to Snape's quarters themselves.

Keeping his wand in hand, he made his way inside carefully, scanning both visually and magically for any unseen dangers and relaxing only marginally upon not finding any.

Taking a deep breath at the sight of most of the Potion Master's furnishings pulverized to splinters or torn to shreds, he picked his way across the detritus-strewn sitting room to the only un-touched piece of furniture; what appeared to be nothing more than a large wardrobe.

Harry opened it, closing his eyes briefly in relief as he saw row upon row of potions carefully stored within.

Running a finger lightly down the fronts of the vials, he gave a minute smile as he withdrew what he was looking for before it withered upon realization that it was a much smaller amount than would suffice for more than one person.

Tightening his fingers around the vial, Harry closed his eyes momentarily, steeling himself, then turned away from the wardrobe and quickly applied unbreakable and cushioning charms to the vial before sliding it into his robes and making his way back out of Snape's quarters, heart pounding as he considered how much time had passed while he was on his errand.

The sound of voices headed in his direction drove him into a panic, and he quickly turned down an adjacent corridor before finding the statue of the humpbacked witch that marked the entrance to the tunnel that would take him to Hogsmeade.

It may take a few minutes more than he would prefer, but it was certain to be quicker than if he was spotted and forced to the Infirmary.

He hurried down the tunnel as quicky as possible, hardly stopping as it opened into the basement of Honeyduke's.

There was a slight delay as he had to stop and pry boards off of the door to leave the building, but within minutes, he was half-jogging, half-stumbling down the narrow streets toward the Shrieking Shack, praying he wasn't already too late.

Finding the Potion Master's body where he'd seen him last, Harry paused to take a deep breath, hands trembling as he withdrew the potion from his robes and knelt at Snape's side, ignoring the blood soaking into the knees of his trousers and the spear of fiery pain that shot up his left leg as he knelt, carefully levering the older man's head onto his lap and tipping the vial of antivenom into his mouth, simultaneously touching his wand to Snape's neck over Nagini's bite and murmuring what few healing spells he knew.

Already beyond exhaustion, using more magic sapped what little strength the adrenaline rush of his 'mission' had provided and Harry lowered Snape's head back to the ground and scooted away slowly to lean against the wall, pointing his wand at the unconcious Slytherin shakily. "Ennervate."

The ex-Death-Eater gasped, hands automatically going to his throat in shock, feeling the partially-healed bite in confusion before scanning his surroundings, obsidian eyes sharpening into a dark glower on sight of the Boy-Who-Lived-Again. "What have you done?"

Harry flashed a tired smile. "Just returning the favor, sir," he replied, unable to quite suppress a wince as searing agony flared up his leg again in a combination of ice and fire that made his stomach clench painfully.

Ever observant, Snape's eyes trekked down the Gryffindor's form before lighting on the torn fabric at the boy's left calf, the twin puncture of Nagini's bite just visible at the edge of the dark fabric. "What have you done, Potter?" he snarled.

Green eyes met obsidian without apology. "There was only enough for one of us," he said quietly. "I'm younger and can fight it longer while someone makes more," he continued, giving a half-shrug as he tightened the makeshift tourniquet he'd tied above the bite. "Besides, I've already used my Get-Out-of-Death-Free card tonight. It's your turn."

The Potion Master looked absolutely murderous for a moment before he managed to blank his face of all expression. "Stupid child! Years of half the wizarding world scrambling to keep you alive, and now that the Dark Lord is finally dead, you play games with your life?!" he growled, climbing to his feet and curling on hand around Harry's right arm in a steel grip before heaving the younger wizard upright.

Harry swayed drunkenly, almost falling on the former Death-Eater as he gave an inelegant snort of derision. "You've been fighting this war a lot longer than I have. You've got as much right to make it out of this alive as I do. More, even," he slurred.

Snape stared at him incredulously for a moment before shaking his head as if at a loss. "You've obviously suffered one too many a tumble from your broom, Potter; you're clearly brain-damaged."

The younger wizard flashed a shaky grin, green eyes glassy and slightly unfocused. "No, I just know more of what's behind all the snarling now," he said, slanting a cautious look at the glowering Slytherin. "Context is a wonderful thing."

If looks could kill, Harry would have dropped on the spot. "Lovely. My life now has meaning because the Great Harry Potter approves," Snape purred derisively. "Excuse me a moment while I prepare myself a draught of hemlock, won't you?"

Harry gave a short bark of laughter. "How did we not notice your sense of humor? A bit dark, but against all odds, it is actually there."

The Potion Master glared down at him. "Perhaps I should just let go. No one would disbelieve a topple down the stairs in your present state," he drawled, arching an eyebrow at the young Gryffindor.

"Mmm...You're not half as scary as I used to think," the young Lion said. "Then again, I'm seeing things I'm fairly certain aren't there, so I suppose it's possible the venom is affecting my judgement," he mused.

"A likely excuse," the Slytherin scoffed. "You've always possessed the survival instincts of a lemming."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but sucked in a sharp breath instead as his knees buckled and he was prevented from impacting the stone floor of Hogwarts only by Snape's hold on his arm; though the former head of Slytherin was not much steadier on his feet than his teenage charge, having been exposed to the effects of Nagini's venom for several hours before Harry had brought the antidote to the Shrieking Shack.

"Careful, Potter. I'm hardly in any condition to carry you if you collapse."

"Sorry, sir," Harry breathed, struggling to take more of his own weight instead of leaning heavily against his former professor. "Wasn't at my best even before I got bit. I don't think most people get nailed with the Killing Curse and snake bit within ten minutes of each other."

Snape gave him a shocked glance as he guided the younger wizard into the dungeons. "Do you plot to engage in every fatal circumstance known to wizardkind in your spare time, boy?"

Harry flashed a disbelieving look at him. "Not hardly. This kind of stuff happens when I'm trying to avoid near-death experiences."

The Potion Master scowled. "Then please do warn the rest of us when next you decide to go seeking trouble, so that we may vacate the continent post-haste."

The Gryffindor smirked in passable mimicry of the Potion Master. "I'll be sure to do that, sir."

Any response from Snape was halted as Harry collapsed just as they rounded the corner bringing the ex-Head of Slytherin House's quarters into view.

Lips curling in disgust, Snape wrenched Harry's wand from his limp grasp and pointed it at the boy's insensate form. "Levicorpus," he bit out, annoyed, flicking the wand to guide the unconcious Gryffindor into his chambers. "Stupid child," he muttered, following the floating form inside, the door slamming with finality behind him.