Chapter three; Not the only one

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"How long is forever?" asked Alice.
"Sometimes, just one second."

-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
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Sometimes, when I slept or was trying to get a shut eye out of exhaustion, I played a game.

It's very simple. Well, at least it was simple enough for me. I had been living in wild for five months by then , everything was still fresh; the grief, confusion, the lack of experience.

I was wary for all of the wrong reasons.

I was naive enough to still believe that they would come back one day, with hugs and kisses and tearful promises. Then we would all cuddle to death and never be apart from each other ever again. I imagined them talking to me, apologizing for leaving me all alone to fend for myself.

Old Harry style.

I imagined food. House elf made food that even Hermione couldn't resist, so then we would all seat down to eat, I would enjoy the loud crashes and sounds that would erupt from the table every so often accompanied by mindless chatter.

Then they would talk, about how they missed me, how they were watching over me, silently cheering me for my bravery and ambition, of how I got them all back.
That was basically the game. I matched up the voices to their faces. I imagined what each person would say ; it's okay Harry. We're going to be alright. We forgive you Harry and we're sorry for leaving.

How pathetic I was.

After the seventh month, I started panicking. Some nights the faces didn't match the voices, some of them were blurred, some of the voices sounded wrong in my head while there was this one voice that started repeating the same sentence over and over again.

"It's not a punishment Potter." it was his voice. Severus Snape. The bat of dungeons was trying to consul me in my own head. Oh, the irony!

'You' ruined my game. I never thought of this as a 'punishment', I thought of it as karma, or some sort of curse, I never thought that I was being punished. Why would God punish me at the expense of everyone else?

Why kill everyone off so I would be left all alone? I asked you those questions, and you only answered. "It's not a punishment Potter."
I didn't believe you. The more you said that, the more I believed that I was being punished. After the eighth month, I started praying. You had drilled the concept into my mind. I was being punished. I deserved this and I was being punished.

I prayed a lot and I cried, we had so many conversations. Me and God. Well, I mostly cried and chocked out unformed words in grunts and he just punished me more by making it rain.

I imagined God talking, he told me ' you screwed up. Now you suck it up. Serve your punishment like a man Harry'

I cried harder, I asked him ' what have I done wrong? How can I fix this? '

God never answered that question.

Rhetorically speaking, God wouldn't give a damn if I lived or not, or redeemed myself or continued on with my sinful ways. I didn't even know what did I do wrong. But you said this wasn't a punishment and you never told me the truth.

It must have been the opposite.

After the tenth month, I got tired of praying, I got tired of apologizing for everything I have done wrong, I was suffering, I was alone, and you just kept repeating that stupid phrase.

I quit praying. To hell with it, if this was a punishment then I would serve it like a man. God was right, I should suck it up and stop being such a baby, maybe when this thing was all over I could go back to praying and sobbing for forgiveness along with everyone else.

But Fuck it, it only got harder. Even then, I told myself that I needed to survive hell in order to get to my heaven.

I stopped playing that game because 'you' (not you necessarily. I mean Snape) ruined it for me.

You self pompous, useless prick, you messed with my mind without even being there, and I was left in broken pieces. Alone. Me and You against the world and each other.

I can go on and insult you all I want without you ever knowing (this journal was private after all) and also, I had came up with some good cussing technics in different languages with the help of Hermione's dictionary. Or as I called her now, my rational voice.

OK, fine, I often referred to her as the bossy head bitch, but you didn't need to know what I thought of my friends.

So insulting you was out. That, however, did not prevent me from showing my surprise once I saw another human being standing on a porch just a few feet away from me.

Anyways.... imagine my shock, when I find smoke in a ghost town, hear some guy slam a door shut like he had just came from the depths of hell and then shoot the said person in the leg only to be tackled to the ground with my still loaded rifle gun.

Guess who that person was? Severus Snape.

Out of all of the people God could've chosen to screw me over it was him. He was different, I recalled he had very long hair and greasy skin. This wasn't him, couldn't be him.

His hair was cut, it was short, almost a buzz cut. He had a beard, a goatee to be exact.

Yeah, that's the first thing I noticed while I was bleeding out to my death on someone else's porch. Oh fuck, Severus Snape has a goatee.
Figures.

I didn't think; Oh, fuck. Another surviver! Or seriously God?! Snape?! We had a deal!

I thought none of those. Well, fine, I did think about the latter after I noticed the goatee, but that's not the point. I was so shocked that I almost got up on my feet,tried to flail my arms above my head in glee, and probably tried to shout out something undignified.

I hadn't spoken in months, I wasn't even sure my vocal cords worked anymore.

I only stared at him with wide eyes instead, unable to believe that there was another person left on the planet. Severus Snape, my potion's Professor was alive, writhing and clutching his knee, cursing, and dressed in a Polo Shirt. Oh I didn't mentioned that did I?

The guy was in a Polo Shirt, I couldn't tell the color ( I was dying, so I guess that's justified) but I was most definitely sure that this guy was Snape. The sneer was the same, the stiff posture and dramatic stance only lacked black robes and then there was his hesitation to come down the porch to actually see me bleeding out of my head.

Good old Snape.

"Potter?" he asked hesitantly , and obviously in pain, it was getting dark and I was drowsy, otherwise I would have answered with something sarcastic and witty. Like ; No it's the freaking ghost of the Christmas past.

I don't remember what happened next, maybe I had held put before he figured that he should bring me into the house, or maybe he had decided to knock me out cause I was screaming. Whatever happened between that period and the next time I woke up still remained a mystery.

I woke up somewhere warm. Somewhere soft, safe in a burrito of blankets, it wasn't dark but the light was lime, my glasses weren't on my face and my head felt groggy.

It had been so long since I was placed on something this soft and heavenly that I was ready to cry. A smell roused my senses, it smelled like tea but not quite.... I wasn't sure, everything was fuzzy at the time.

Remember how I said that this place can't be heaven? I take it all back, this place was my personal heaven, warm, cozy, it even smelled good, the blanket smelled of laundry and felt fresh, I felt it even more so, because I had no shirt.

No. Fucking. way. I thought in horror.

My eyes snapped open in a flash, and I shot up on the couch with a groan. The burrito fell apart and my eyes couldn't see a thing in the dark. My breathing picked up speed, I spread out my hand to find mama bear or my glasses. Not exactly in the same order.

There was nothing. Nor my glasses or mama bear were next to me. Now, you might protest, but I found that situation very justified for what I did next.
I blindly toppled out of the heap of pillows and blankets and picked up an empty vase from the coffee table. My head seared and I was nauseous, but I maintained balance and walked away from my nest.

He was nowhere to be seen, I think I was in a living room at the time but I couldn't be sure, the light was too dimmed and I was still too dizzy.

I heard shuffling in the kitchen, or whatever that place with a lot of light was, the door was half way closed and I thought I could see his shadow going around the kitchen in a hurry. As if he was repeatedly running back and forth. That awfully familiar smell of herbs seemed to be fading away with every breath that I took and it made me even more suspicious.

Remember yesterday? When I told you about animalistic fear and all the crap? About my caveman side? I was on auto pilot right now.

"Quit dawdling Potter and get in." The man snapped without looking back and I blanched, my fear took control of my body again and I was a shivering mess right in the middle of this warm and cozy living room.

A voice. It was a human's voice. The sound sent shivers down my spine and I was ready to faint again.

"Potter." he snapped again in annoyance and walked (limping a little) out of the kitchen, the potion master took one look at me and then at the vase and clicked his tongue.

"That one's antique. Use the red vase." he told me, unimpressed by my fighting pose as he flipped the lights on. I hissed, covering my eyes like a bat out of cave.
"Fuck you." I tried to tell him but it more came out like ' uuu oooouuu '. Wow, I guess the voice was really damaged.

"I think we established that Potter. Sit on the couch before you fall over and crack your head open again." much to his credit, he didn't look surprised to see me. At all.

Well, I was still surprised, I was more than surprised. I was speechless. I hadn't spoken to a normal, breathing, living, or bleeding human being in a whole year now. I was like Tarzan in comparison to the man.

He must have read my utter confusion and shock, because he then heaved a sigh and moved closer to me. He tried to grab my hand, but I was faster. Even as blind as a bat, I landed that bastard a well placed smack to the face with my antique vase.

He hissed and swore. "You rad animal! Settle down Potter! Dammit!" I stumbled back in a crouching pose and narrowed my eyes.

"What did you just call me?" I think that's what I said, it must have came out wrong or in a form of a whimper as a result of my pathetic vocal ability. His face softened. Oh... That was what that emotion was... Pity.

"Potter, put the vase down." he handed something out to me. I knew they should be my glasses, dubiously I reached and took the item with shaking hands. I was still in shock.

He caught the vase and I repositioned my skew glasses, looking like a fucking deer caught in headlight.

Somehow I ended up back on the couch and he was looking over me, poking and prodding my head and body. I gathered up my courage and pushed past the shock, I cleared my throat several times before even I attempted speaking like a human being again. I had demonstrated enough caveman traits for the man as it was.

Extending my hand, I swatted the man's hands off my head and shrank back.

"Snape?" I whizzed out, and he nodded, expertly covering his delight upon seeing his least favorite student here in his.... What was this place? His house? It couldn't be, I ravaged this place, I looked /everywhere/. Snape must be new.

I bounced up with excitement. Maybe he came back! Maybe he knows what's going on!

"Snape!" I could honestly kiss him right then, I was so happy that I didn't even care.

The man rolled his eyes and handed me a vial out of his pocket. "Drink it up Potter. It helps." I would've questioned him whether this was poison or not any other day. This was Snape! But now?! The only thing I cared about, was that he was human, and frankly he wasn't a voice in my head.

He was really there. My hand lingered on his to test the realness of the situation and I gasped. Now just before you call me emotionally deprived or just overly dramatic, I will tell you that I wasn't the only one crying. Snape wasn't crying at first, he just looked at me contently. But then the waterworks started.

As soon as that damned potion was down my throat, I was crying. I couldn't control it, the taste as crappy as it was, brought up so many memories that I had tried to hide. The surreal dream wasn't so much of a dream after all and I was just.... Overwhelmed. I cried. A lot.

He looked at me for a good five minutes before he awkwardly patted my shoulder. That made me cry harder. Human touch.

Look at me getting sentimental, Harry the bear killer was crying over Snape touching him. I rolled my eyes later at the incident. But then... Then it felt like heaven caressing me. I didn't care who, I didn't care even if it was Voldemort. This was a person, a human.

"Snape." I cried like a child did for its parents. Pitiful and completed with broken hiccups. I was sixteen, I was 5'3 and I was still crying for Snape like a damn baby. Good move Potter, real smooth.

"Potter calm down. I'm not going anywhere." somewhere in that statement was a lie. I knew that but I still allowed myself to believe it. I threw my arms around his neck and wept. He did not hug me back and I didn't expect him to, nor did I really care as I poured my heart out. The fact that my body was feeling skin, that Snape's body warmth comforted me was more than enough.

I cried for hours it seemed, before I was reduced to hiccups and shuddering breaths. Snape hadn't moved his hand from my shoulder, all the while, keeping a passive face, but I think I caught a solitary tear there somewhere.

"How's your head?" he asked some time later, it was well into the night and I was hungry as it got. Uncharacteristically so. Crying sucked.

I had passed lunch and I needed to use the bathroom. But I was scared, scared that I leave and he'd be gone too.

"Fine." even my throat was better and I could get my message across without sounding like a grunting baboon. Thank god for small mercies. Just realizing that I was sprawled on the man's lap, I scooted away, hastily crossing my arms.

Snape frowned at my pallid demeanor. "Are you tired? I can get you settled in the guest bedroom."

It took me a while to dissect the words and get a full meaning, but I shook my head; I had no intentions of moving from that soft and comfortable couch I was currently sitting on. I couldn't believe that in the midst of my melt down I have actually cried for the softness of this brilliant couch. But my buttocks did though.

"Was your throat injured? Where you attacked?" I could tell the questions were warm up and pointless. I could see the man bouncing with poorly contained fascination , eager to know. I was too. Now that I have calmed down, my glance went to his left leg, where I should have shot him.

He had obviously healed the wound with a spell or potion or something. I didn't care.

Now the real question was where did the motherfucker hid my mama bear and backpack? I knew that he had hid them somewhere in the house, as much as I was one hundred percent sure that I got him when I shot. Still no pain or blood seemed to show, the man was as calm and as strict as ever. So it must have been a spell.

"Potter I know you can talk. Answer me." he nudged me by the hand and I clutched into it like a leech. Snape tried to wrench his hand out of my grasp, looking at me wearily.

"Where's mama bear?" thankfully it got as clearly as I had intended it too. Snape shook his head in confusion clouding his eyes.

"What?"

I rolled my bloodshot eyes, of course he wouldn't know what mama bear was. "My riffle, the one I shot you with. Where is it?" it got out more scratchy than before and I had to cough repeatedly after I croaked out my message, but I think Snape got what I meant. The man's eyes didn't move from my poked out ribs and scarry chest. I covered myself with the burrito of blankets.

"In the kitchen along with your backpack. Potter..." the man trailed off as if not knowing what to say. What should he say anyway? Did you think that you were the only human left on earth too? Oh my, we have so much in common!

He seemed to be in an internal inflict between disbelief and his utter need to remain stoic. I vaguely noticed his hand was still clutched in mine.
"Where were you?" I asked with hint of suspicious. My throat gave away at the end.

Snape shrugged. "I move from place to place. Last week I was in Albania." he gave me a disgusted look that mostly represented the man's reflexes than his true intent. "You on the other hand, look like a homeless person."

"I live in the woods." I wasn't about to explain my reasons to him, and he'd better suck that up.

He was clearly taken back by my deadpan response. "The woods?! Why would you do something so idiotic like that Potter?!" he exclamation exactly sounded like a scolding he would give away at Hogwarts. It made me feel stupid for doing what I thought was right.

I shrugged in response. My throat was starting to itch and that was never a good sign.

"Is there anyone else.. That..." my throat clogged.

Snape didn't let me finish, and graced me with a somber reply.

"No. No one Potter. I thought I was the last." I rolled my eyes then, see my point here? That guy thought he was the last too. We truly have so many things in common. I wouldn't be surprised if he fished out a rifle just like mine named baby. Or maybe a journal.

He handed me a stack of papers and a pen from the coffee table, the pen agitated my hand and he watched me like a hawk as I tried to write out my questions one by one, as my throat wasn't up for talking anymore.

I had questions, loads of them. First things first though, I was starving but that wasn't too important. The absence of my backpack bothered me a lot, me and backpack were inseparable. I demanded that first before food.

He declined.

I gave him the finger.

After that ordeal, Snape and I got on pretty well, he was disgruntled but as usual tried to hide it behind a stoic mask, he watched me devour a can of carrot soup while I nibbled on the bread like a bird. How did he get bread? It tasted fresh, it tasted wonderfully fresh, it melted on my tongue, and I lavished every lick and bite I got out of it. I could go on, I could describe every bite I got, but that's a bit boring and lame. So I skip ahead straight to our talk.

I wrote on the paper. My handwriting was like a toddler's. "How did you survive? Do you know what happened? Where are they?" Snape took another look at me and shrugged.

"I'm not sure Potter. I didn't even know there is somebody left. What had happened to you boy? You look... Half dead." that was putting it in mildly, but I wasn't about to admit that. I wasn't the old Harry anymore.

I wrote. "I was gonna cut my hair."

To him it might have sounded ridiculous and pathetic, but to me it was a good defensive approach, if not a bit slurred, I was feeling warm and cozy. Miles away.
"Can you tell me what happened? Can you remember?" he pressed.

I underlined my last statement, groggy with the need to sleep."I told you, I was gonna cut my hair." either Snape was getting daft, or I was too tired to keep up with him.

"That's not what I meant. I mean with everyone, what happened to them Potter? Who was the last? What about Dumbledore?" I looked at him for a moment, before scribbling down my answer.

"I can't tell." because I wasn't there. No, I was in the astronomy tower, brooding like a pathetic child.

Snape glared at me and drew out his wand, I saw the gleam die in his eyes, as if he was finally declaring me mentally unfit to have a serious discussion with. He must have thought I was nuts by that point in our interaction.

"Let me look over you Potter. You... You look sickly." I shook my head, I was fine. Shit happened, and I got sick a lot, it was probably the blood loss.

We needed to talk. I needed to know about him, of what he's been up to, and what the hell he was doing here... But somehow, I couldn't keep my eyelids open. In a half-assed attempt, I snatched another paper and tried to write on it.

"We need to talk." I wrote in Capital letters, surging the note in his hands. Snape clicked his tongue and pushed me back in my seat. He had given up on me tonight, I could tell.

"We can talk later Potter, let me tend to your head and other... Damages."

I tried to bat his hands away, but he caught my wrists with a glare.

I swore his grasp could snap my twig like wrists in two anytime. "Seat still and let me do my job Potter, I don't need a corpse to get rid of in the morning." the man glowered.

I decided that I was either imagining the whole ordeal, or I was underestimating Snape's threat.

That was how my life went on everyday. Either/or, none better than the other, each choice more gruesome to me than it was crucial for survival. I didn't argue with Snape further, and let him do whatever he felt like doing in order to distract me. I was just so glad that another human was here that I didn't even care.

He fed me another vial of potion, and told me it was for my head, he was gracious enough to not insult me or jab me while working. My head kept bobbing a little and my eyes were glued to the man's knee.

I never asked what happened to the gunshot. I thought and opened my mouth to do so, but Snape hushed me with a glare.

I was settled on the couch, and he handed me new clothes, clothes that actually fit. Snape had made out a huge nest on the couch, completed with some blankets on the floor incase I rolled over in my sleep.

I was very disappointed in myself, It wasn't even that late for me to feel this tired, it could be ten at most and eight if I had been unconscious shorter than I have thought I would be, I knew that the moment I saw the scenery out of a half covered window, I had slept four hours tops each night, and this wasn't even my dinner time yet.

So despite the heaviness in my head, I laid somewhat awake, hearing Snape shuffling above me upstairs, I mulled over his voice. Again and again, one time after the other. I would talk to him tomorrow, I would ask questions, drag out information and figure out what the hell was going on. For now though, I liked to sleep. Even if only for tow hours.

The last thing my bleary eyes caught was Snape settling next to me on the floor, sitting cross-legged and opening up a book, I could tell his eyes were on me. Was he also frightened? Scared that I'd vanish if he closed his eyes? Could he feel how scared /I/ was?

"Sleep, Potter." he ordered, his hand settling awkwardly on my shoulder, rubbing circles on my arm in a comforting manner.

For the first time in months I dreamed of Hogwarts.