“What do you plan to do with me?” Severus asked.

“Help you get better,” Harry said. “You’re a right mess, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“And then?”

Harry frowned. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

Snape snorted. “Impulsive as always.”

Harry grinned. He moved to washing the man’s thighs, leaving a dirty stretch in the middle that still needed attention. Harry glanced once more at Snape’s mangled hands and doubted the man could use them for much.

Snape seemed to sense his discomfort. “Just get it over with, Potter.”

“Sorry, sir,” Harry said, as he slid the flannel between the man’s legs and washed him thoroughly before continuing upward to wash the rest of the man’s private parts. Snape’s body had tensed and his breathing had broken into jerky sobs.

“You’re safe here,” Harry reassured, washing the man as thoroughly and quickly as he could. Considering the horrific state of Snape’s health, it wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as it should have been.

Harry continued downward, cleansing Snape’s legs and feet thoroughly. “Do you think you can stand for a bit so I can wash the rest of you?”

Snape grunted his assent and Harry helped him to his feet, banishing the bath chair in the process. He positioned Snape to lean with his forearms against the bathroom wall, giving Harry access to his back. The man shook like a leaf. Harry guessed it was because Snape was weak from lack of nourishment.

“I will hurry, but let me know if you need to sit down,” Harry said as he washed Snape’s back, buttocks, and the backs of the man’s thighs, unnerved by the scars and infected wounds of many a beating there, not to mention Snape’s hisses of pain. What that man must have been through, Harry lamented silently.

As with the front, Harry saved the most embarrassing bits for last. As he slid the flannel between the man’s arse cheeks, Snape jerked and made a sound so pained and desperate that it made Harry’s gut clench. Thus, it took a moment for Harry to realize what was happening. Then the unmistakable scent of shit hit his nostrils at about the same time he felt it splatter on his ankles and feet. Harry yelped and jumped back in surprise.

Snape let out a sound like a wounded animal and began banging his forehead against the wall, repeatedly, as fecal matter ran in rivulets down his legs.

Several things occurred to Harry at once, not the least of which was the training he’d received as an Auror on the after effects of rape and torture in trauma victims.

“Hey, it’s all right. You’re all right,” Harry soothed, gripping Snape’s shoulder with one hand and using his other to cushion the blows between Snape’s forehead and the wall. “I won’t hurt you and I won’t judge you.” Harry moved to rubbing light circles between the man’s shoulder blades. “I’ve had some training on this. It’s a completely normal and expected response to what you've been through.”

Snape made a strangled sound and Harry gave him a few moments to compose himself while casting non-verbal air-freshening charms around them.

“Do you want to wash yourself there?” Harry asked gently.

“Just get it over with,” Snape rasped out, his body still trembling, as tears leaked down the wizard’s face.

Nodding, Harry directed the spray from the spigot to rinse the man before going back to washing him, careful to be extra gentle and speak soothingly as he did so. Once he was done, he quickly washed his ankles and feet before turning back to Snape. 

“Would you like to soak in the tub for a while? Or would rather lie down?” Harry asked, his hand splayed on Snape’s back for support.

“Soak.”

Harry couldn’t blame him. If he hadn’t been allowed to bathe in months, years perhaps, he’d have chosen the same. Harry stoppered the tub and helped lower the man into a reclining position. Then he switched off the shower in favor of the taps. In addition to the warm water, he turned on the one for scented bubbles as well.

“It’s lavender, is that all right?” Harry asked, as he stepped out of the tub. “If the scent is too strong, I can turn it off.” Wrapping a towel around his waist, he added, “I thought the bubbles might provide you some privacy.”

“It’s fine,” Snape rasped. Then he leaned his head back against the porcelain bath and closed his eyes.

“You must be starving.” 

Snape nodded.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone here just yet, so how about some water for now?” Without waiting for a response, Harry used his wand to summon a glass from the kitchen and filled it with cool water from the tap.

Harry helped Snape grasp the glass in his mangled hands and raised it to Snape’s lips to drink. He watched as the man’s Adam’s apple bobbed in the scarred and too-thin neck as Snape swallowed.

Snape drained the glass. “More.”

Harry refilled the glass twice more before Snape settled back against the tub, seemingly exhausted by the effort of drinking alone.

When the water was up to Snape’s chin, Harry turned off the taps and debated what to do. Calling his two best friends was first on his mind, but he didn’t dare leave Snape alone. In his condition, the man could drown if he were left unsupervised. In fact, it wasn’t too much later that Snape’s head fell to the side as slumber claimed him.

Harry removed the plug and let the water drain out, casting drying and warming charms on Snape as the emaciated man began to shiver. Then he levitated Snape from the tub and into his bed. He hadn’t bothered to make it two nights ago and he hoped the sheets weren’t too ripe.

He laid Snape’s unconscious body on the mattress and was just about to cover him, when he had a thought. He summoned a pair of clean boxers and slid them over the man’s feet and up his legs until they were in place, noting that the boxers were much too large for Snape in his present condition. Then Harry covered him with sheets and blankets, adding a couple of extra layers for good measure. He returned to the bath and took a quick shower before toweling off and dressing quickly in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Then he cast a monitoring charm on the man and headed downstairs.

Exhaustion dogged his steps as the rush of adrenaline wore off, but there was still much to do. He cursed the Auror Department for having him work double shifts in addition to all of the other complaints he had about how the organization was being run under the new Minister of Defense. Shaking his head, he pulled out his wand, cast his Patronus, and gave it a message. That done, he heated up some broth for Snape, hoping it wouldn’t be too hard on the man’s stomach, which surely had become unaccustomed to food.

Hermione restacked her patients’ medical charts in front of her, having just finished updating her team on their status. Healer Jackson went next, starting with a witch in her 30s who’d been the unfortunate recipient of a hex from her drunken husband. She’d sprouted a variety of horns from her head that Healer Jackson had been able to remove, but that had re-sprouted within the hour. As the group of Healers debated what to try next for said patient, a bright, shimmering shape cantered into the room.

“Confidential Urgent Message for Hermione Granger,” it said in an official tone, bowing its head and scratching a hoof at the ground.

Startled, Hermione glanced around the room of Healers, seeing if anyone realized whom the stag Patronus belonged to. Relieved when it appeared they did not, she said, “Excuse me,” and cast a silencing bubble around her and the stag.

“Please continue,” Hermione said.

The next words were spoken in Harry’s voice and he sounded desperate and panicky.  

“Hermione, I’m sorry to bother you at work but I need you to come to my house straight away. Bring your full Healer’s kit and Ron, too, if you can. Tell no one. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Frowning in concern, Hermione nodded. The stag vanished and she cancelled the privacy charm.

Turning to the head Healer, she said, “I’m so sorry, I have a family emergency. I need to leave. Can someone cover my patients?”

Healer Jackson immediately volunteered and Hermione thanked him before rushing from the room. She Apparated to her apartment, where she Floo-called Ron at the joke shop. As soon as Ron stepped through, the two of them Floo’d to Harry’s house.

Immediately after they’d stepped out of his fireplace, Harry sealed the Floo. Hermione exchanged a worried glance with Ron.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked.

Harry ran a hand through his damp hair. He looked a mixture of exhausted and worried.

“Did something happen at work?” Hermione asked.

“Sort of,” Harry said. “We got an anonymous tip-off about some Death Eaters holed up in a cellar. We raided the place and found not only Death Eaters, but witches and wizards and Muggles, too.”

Harry met Hermione’s eyes and the sorrow she saw there stole her breath away.

“They were all prisoners, all in bad shape. Some of them had already died. They’d been starved and tortured.”

Hermione and Ron waited expectantly, matching serious expressions on their faces, knowing that whatever Harry had to say was important.

“I was helping clear out cells, and in the last cell…” Harry glanced between the two of them, despair radiating off of him. “You’re not going to believe this, but I found… Professor Snape… alive.”

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth.

“Snape?” Ron said. “But he’s dead!”

“I thought so, too,” Harry said, running his hand through his hair again. “He said some Death Eaters revived him, figured out he was a traitor, and…” Harry pressed his lips tight together and shook his head, unable to continue.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said. “How is he?”

“He’s alive,” Harry said, “but only just.”

Harry glanced at Ron. “You know what the Aurors are like these days. Anyone with a Dark Mark goes straight to Azkaban.”

Ron nodded, looking grim.

“I couldn’t let them take him,” Harry said. “Not after…” Harry’s voice broke and he cleared his throat. “I Disillusioned him and told the other Aurors that his cell was empty. Then I went back for him and brought him here.” Harry’s desperate gaze swiveled to Hermione. “Will you take a look at him? I didn’t know who else to ask. He’s in bad shape, but I don’t dare let anyone know he’s alive.”

“Where is he?” Hermione asked, unshrinking her large medical bag.

“He’s in my room,” Harry said. “I bathed him first thing and got him settled, then sent word. I don’t know how he’ll take to seeing you,” he added.

Face set in determination, Hermione nodded.

Harry sagged with relief.

“Ron, maybe you should wait here,” Hermione suggested.

“Suits me,” Ron said. “I know we couldn’t have won the war without him and all that, but he was still a right git to us at Hogwarts.” Ron raised his hand. “Not that I’d condemn anyone to what happened to the poor bloke, I’m just saying.” Glancing between Harry and Hermione, Ron said, “I’ll make us something to eat.”

“Oh, that reminds me. I heated up some broth for Snape.” Harry grabbed it off the table and made his way with Hermione up the stairs.

Hermione felt a hand on her arm. Glancing over her shoulder at Harry, she asked, “What is it?”

“There’s something you should probably know.” Harry waved his wand and cast a Silencing Charm over them. Then he took a deep breath and grimaced. “I’m fairly certain that he was raped. We had a class on the signs and symptoms and he seems to have them all.”

Hermione put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, seeing the emotions there. She knew Harry must be feeling tremendous guilt over abandoning Snape, even if they all thought he was dead. Snape’s body had never been found, and that had always bothered Harry, but everyone thought the Death Eaters had taken the body, along with several others, as they fled after Voldemort’s downfall. “Thanks for telling me, Harry. I’ll be sure to check him over thoroughly.”

“Professor,” Harry greeted Snape, seeing that he was waking up. “I’ve brought you something to eat.” He took the chair next to Snape. “I’ve also brought Hermione Granger with me. She’s a Healer now, graduated top of her class. She’s sworn to keep your presence here a secret and I’d really like her to take a look at you, if you’ll let her.”

Snape’s gaze swiveled between Harry and Hermione and Harry held his breath, hoping the man wouldn’t be difficult. When Snape finally nodded, Hermione stepped forward and set down her bag.

“Hello, Professor,” Hermione said, reaching out slowly to lay her hand lightly atop his. “I must admit to being quite surprised when Harry told me you were here, but I’m very happy you’re alive.”

Harry felt a tingle of magic in the room and knew that Hermione was measuring Snape’s vitals via her simple touch. She really was an amazing Healer, one of the best that had come through in years, the head Healers had said.

Snape winced at her touch but Hermione remained professional, speaking softly and non-threateningly to him. Harry was just thankful that she hadn’t cringed at the sight of him. His shorn hair stuck out at odd angles. His skin was deathly pale. His face, which was merely taut papery skin over bones now, was covered in cuts, bruises, and scars, as was most of the rest of him.

Snape’s eyes bulged in his hollow face. His nose had clearly been broken and had healed at an odd angle. His hands were a mangled mess, and Harry didn’t even want to think about how that had happened. Being a Potions master, Snape likely valued his hands above all else. More than all of that, though, Snape was emaciated nearly beyond recognition. He looked like a victim of the Holocaust.

“Er… can you feed yourself? Or do you need my help?” Harry asked, motioning to the bowl of broth.

Snape studied the offering. “Straw.”

It took Harry a moment but then he realized what Snape meant. He transfigured the spoon into a drinking straw and held the bowl near Snape’s mouth, fitting the plastic straw between the man’s parched lips.

Snape drank steadily. Harry held the bowl for him until Snape released the straw and turned his head away, indicating that he had finished. Harry set the remainder of the broth on the bedside table.

Hermione had perched herself on the edge of the bed, near Snape’s hip, his hand still held loosely in hers. She looked the picture of a serene Healer and Harry was very proud of her and all she’d accomplished since the war. And, at this moment, he was beyond grateful that she was here with him.

Hermione’s voice changed from soothing to something more official. “Will you allow me to examine you, Professor?”

At Snape’s nod, Hermione continued. “And will you allow me to treat you to the best of my ability based on my findings?”

Snape nodded again, his gaze never wavering. Harry wondered if some sort of magical contract was taking place. “Thank you for your trust,” she said. “Anything I find, or any treatments you receive, will be strictly confidential. I will not discuss your condition with anyone without your permission. Including Harry.”

Snape looked surprised and Harry wanted to protest.

“Healer’s Oath,” Hermione responded. Turning to Harry, she said, “Harry, I’m going to have to ask you to leave while I examine Professor Snape. I will fetch you when I have finished.”

Harry glanced between Hermione and Snape and then took his leave. He felt uneasy. He trusted Hermione completely, of course, but Snape was his responsibility, had been since the second he’d chosen to conceal Snape from the other Aurors and take him into his home in defiance of Ministry protocol.

“I’ve been kicked out.” Harry told Ron once he’d arrived in the kitchen. “Patient confidentiality or some tripe,” he said, sliding into a chair and resting his head on the table. He was exhausted.

Ron slid him a cup of tea and a plate with a ham and cheese sandwich on it. “Bad luck, mate, but I’m not surprised. You know how Hermione is about rules.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, raising his head and wrapping his hands around the hot mug.

Ron sat down at the table across from him. “She’s a damn fine Healer, Harry. You couldn’t ask for anyone better. And you know she’ll help Snape without prejudice. Not all Healers would, I expect.”

“I just wish we’d have known he was alive,” Harry lamented. “I feel so guilty. To think of him held prisoner for two years, Ron. And the things they did to him.” Harry shivered and sipped his hot tea. “It’s a miracle he’s still alive. And sane.”