7 Days until the Full Moon

Harry bolted downstairs as quickly as his feet could take him, skipping the staircase several steps at a time. Once he reached the ground floor towards the entrance, he found a mass of black robes collapsed in a heap on the floor. Hermione had fallen to the floor beside Snape, gingerly prodding the man's shoulder for any sign of consciousness. Harry looked at Hermione, as he knelt beside them.

"What happened?!"

Hermione was frantic, "I-I dunno. He walked in just as I reached downstairs, and he just must of…blacked out. He didn't say a thing."

"Snape? Can you hear me?" There was so further response for the man, leaving Harry to turn to Hermione, "…Okay, we need to get him upstairs. Help me get him onto his back," Harry and Hermione positioned themselves as they gently rolled the man onto his back, taking immediate notice of the sweat glistening and drenching the raven-colored hair curtaining his face. Snape's neck dressing was seeping through with blood once again, staining the collar of his usual white undershirt. As they rolled him, Harry noticed further wet patches on the man's torso, which he knew was where the other snake bites had occurred previously. Snape's face was pallid and gaunt. His breathing appeared labored and a small welt was forming on his head from when he fell.

Retrieving her wand, Hermione cast a non-verbal Mobilicorpus Charm on Snape, slowly levitating his body from the ground. Gently, they guided his unconscious form up two flights of stairs, being extremely careful along the narrow corridors. Once they finally reached Snape's room, Hermione gently lowered the man onto the bed, ceasing the charm when it was safe to do so. As Hermione raced down to the Potions lab in the basement, Harry tried his best to remove the man's traveling cloak and upper-pieced black suit as carefully as he could retaining as much dignity as possible, hoping above all else, that the man did not wake at this moment, knowing full well what had happened to him during his worst memory. As soon as he was able to pry off the man's buttons – causing Harry to inadvertently curse under his breath – he left his white shirt remaining. It was then he was able to see the extent of the man's seeping wounds around his torso, resembling the horrific fang marks left behind by Nagini, that would never heal so long as the curse remained active.

Gingerly retrieving his own wand, he carefully opened the man's shirt with his free hand – feeling incredibly guilty for invading the man's privacy – and tried his best to re-seal the wounds as best and quickly as he could with a simple healing charm. It wasn't the best handiwork, but it at least stopped the smaller wounds from bleeding for the time being. Finally closing up the man's shirt, he watched as his breathing slowly began to steady, but the faint sound of wheezing emanating from the man was slightly disconcerting. Harry watched as Snape began to stir ever so slightly, drawing in a shuddering breath every few minutes. Harry retrieved the man's own wand from his inner robe pocket and placed it – a little too forcefully - on the table beside him, earning a very small disapproving growl from the man lying helplessly on the bed.

Harry's cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment.

Beside the wand on the table, Harry could see a single vial of the potion Snape had used previously to clear his lungs and regain normal breathing patterns once again. Snatching the vial, Harry knelt on the ground beside Snape's prone form.

"…Professor Snape?" There was a faint stir from the man upon the call of his name, but still no adequate response. So, he called his name again witnessing the man's eyelids noticeably struggling to open. "Sir? If you can hear me, open your eyes. Or nod. Or…something." There were a few passing minutes where nothing seemed to happen, but Harry watched carefully as Snape eventually managed all but a few shaky nods.

Feeling relieved at the small response, Harry uncorked the potion vial in his hands, "Sir, I have a potion here for your breathing…Let me help you sit up a bit…" Not knowing what else to do, Harry was able to assist the man in raising his head high enough to take the potion within his hands whilst supporting him with his arm. Snape struggled to ingest the potion, spluttering a few times, further alarming Harry. Once Hermione re-entered the room, he was able to further assist the man in taking a blood-replenishing potion, one of the specialised antidotes, and an anti-nausea potion. Once he was able to ingest them safely, Harry was able to lower Snape's head onto the pillow and place a single blanket over him. Hermione was able to fill up an empty bowl of ice cubes, allowing Harry to wrap a few within a cloth, and place it over the swelling that was slowly appearing on the man's temple as a result of his earlier fall. Harry managed to sit on the edge of the bed, tending to the man directly.

Harry looked over at Hermione still clasping the ice-filled cloth to his head, who watched helplessly at the man's bedside, "…He'll be okay once the potions take effect. He just needs rest."

Hermione's voice was shaky with concern, "I was worried when he hit his head…"

"His breathing has settled a bit and I've managed to re-seal his other wounds for now," Harry looked sadly back at Snape, "I'll be okay here, Hermione. Go and check on those potions at Hogwarts. I'll stay with him. If I need you back, I'll send you a message with my Patronus, alright?"

"…A-Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'll sit with him."

"Alright," Hermione looked worried, as she slowly pocketed her wand, "Please, call me. For anything."

Harry nodded, "Yeah, I will."

Lingering for a few moments staring at Snape's ill state with a look of devastation and concern, Hermione turned around on her heel and departed Grimmauld Place, leaving Harry alone sitting beside him.

Harry sat with Snape on the edge of the bed, holding the ice to the man's temple for a few more passing minutes, watching the Potions professor begin to snore lightly. Eventually, Harry settled in the sofa chair in the corner, keeping an eye on the sick man before him. For now, they were able to get him stabilised as best as they could with whatever they had available. At this rate, they are going to need a lot more variety and volume of potions to even get them through this lengthy spell process. He really wasn't liking these odds.

The Gryffindor sat for what seemed like hours, refusing to leave his side until he awoke. He would have felt guilty the moment he left the room, not being there if anything were to happen. Again, Harry would blame himself. So instead, he stayed where he was. But gradually, Harry began to doze off, fighting sleep until he could prevent it no longer.

He wasn't sure how long he slept for, but he was awoken by the sound of shifting blankets and a heavy, frustrated sigh within the room. Harry slowly began to open his eyes, as he observed Snape trying to best to sit upright without much luck, wincing in pain and occasionally, cursing under his breath. Bolting from his chair, almost startling the man in the bed - who likely didn't realise he still had company - Harry dashed to his side. He began to reach out to assist him, but Snape batted his arm away, fully insistent on doing it himself. Harry watched the man struggle, trying to resist the urge to at least help him move. He didn't want to get on the man's nerves already, so instead, stood back, watching helplessly.

Eventually, Snape managed to sit himself up, sighing heavily as he closed his eyes to regain his breath, leaving Harry to wander back to the sofa and sit on its edge, still watching the man closely. The pair sat in somber silence, hearing nothing more than the old ticking clock within the room.

"…How long have you been here?" The man's croaky voice startled Harry.

"I, ah…Never left, sir."

There was a defeated sigh from the man, who still sat with his eyes closed. Harry bit his lip, unsure if he should leave and give him space away from The Boy Who Lived. Retrieving the empty goblet from the bedside table, he filled it up with a water charm for Snape. Snape warily opened his eyes, and they immediately darted to his shirt, still stained with his own blood. Frowning, he looked over at Harry, who clearly looked uncomfortable.

"S-Sorry…I had to. You were bleeding. I patched them up as best I could…"

Snape peered just under his shirt, observing Harry's amateur healing attempts, raising his eyebrow, "…I daresay, could be worse."

"I'll, err…Leave you be…" Harry made a move to leave.

"…Stay put, Gryffindor," Snape narrowed his eyes at the teenager, pulling up the blanket against his neck, "So…" He shifted slightly in the bed, "…What was your bright idea for eradicating this blasted disease?"

Harry drew in a nervous breath, as he sat back down, "It's a…complex spell – "

Snape was clearly impatient, "- Obviously. What is it called?"

"I didn't want to tell you…yet."

Snape looked dangerously at Harry, "You can't expect me to be on board with this idea if I have no clue what it is. So, I will ask again, Potter. What is it called?"

"…Anathema Excerptum," Harry bit his lip in anticipation.

The Slytherin crinkled his brow in thought, "The term sounds vaguely familiar…" Suddenly, he widened his eyes, "If this is Dark Magic, Potter – "

Harry immediately shook his head, "- It's not, sir. We've…already begun the required potions."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, "Why didn't you approach me about this before you commenced with it? I demand to see wherever it is you stumbled across this spell."

"We didn't want to tell you before, because…Well. You may not have wanted us to try it."

"I am not your experimental rodent, Potter," Snape looked over at Harry, and narrowed his eyes, "Is it a blood ritual?"

"No."

"…Any sacrifice required?"

"No, of course not."

Snape frowned, "Is it time-sensitive?"

Harry nodded, "…Very."

The Potions Master paused in thought, not knowing how to proceed with such information, "What book did you procure this from?"

"Hermione has it. She's tending to the potions at Hogwarts as we speak. One potion must be brewed every two weeks, and the final one takes the entire duration of three months. As I said, it's…complex. When she comes back, you can see it for yourself."

"I still think you are all wasting your time."

"That's why we didn't want to tell you yet. This is the only solution we could find."

Snape sighed heavily, appearing incredibly exhausted, "And a waste of precious ingredients."

Harry frowned, "It's not a waste if it can potentially save your life."

"Potentially."

Now it was Harry's turn to sigh frustratingly, "You know, it wouldn't hurt to have a little optimism."

Snape scoffed, "Says the ever-valiant Chosen One."

"Stop calling me that. I know you are trying to deflect me when you're being an…arse."

Snape frowned at the teenager, "…I beg your pardon?!"

"Don't deny it, sir. It's true, isn't it? I'm not as stupid as you think I am."

Snape pursed his lips at the Gryffindor, "I never said you were…stupid. Just – "

"– Just what? Stop berating me for no bloody reason and work with me on this."

Snape paused, as he clenched his jaw, "…As I said, you are wasting your time."

"This spell will only work if you want this. I'm not going to see you drop dead because you think it's the easy option. We can't do this by ourselves, so you need to meet us halfway. Everyone has been helping to put this together. Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, Ginny…Even Hagrid."

Snape's eyes widened, "…That oaf knows?"

Harry shook his head, "No, but he helped us find some of the rarer ingredients. All I'm saying is that it's not just me. It's a…collective effort. We are willing to go this far. Is that not enough for you?"

Snape looked away from the teenager, unsure of how to respond. Harry couldn't quite read the man's face, unaware of how he was registering this. Snape remained silent. Something he usually did when he simply did not want to answer. Curtains of raven-colored hair shrouded his pale face, hiding whatever emotion he didn't want the Gryffindor to see. But Harry was ever-persistent, and he was the only one who could truly get through to him.

Harry shuffled to the edge of the seat, resting his hands underneath his chin, "Sir. Remember when we first got Grimmauld Place back? We had that conversation in the lab downstairs…You offered to me that you'd become more…dependable. If I so wished. Those were your words. Well…I'm depending on you now. Look into my mind if you don't remember."

Harry heard the man draw in a shuddering breath, as Snape turned to face the Gryffindor again. His onyx eyes glimmered, and instead, his expression turned to defeat as his face softened. The man nodded, and responded quietly, "…Yes…Indeed, I did. I remember quite well. That is…still your wish?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. Since you asked me the first time…Yes. Otherwise, if you regret saying it, tell me, so I know where we stand. I know you pretend not to give a damn when I see that you actually do. "

"It was never a mere slip of the tongue, Potter. I…meant it," Snape paused again, observing the teenager intently, and with a mild curiosity within his gaze, "…Alright. We will proceed with this…spell. Nevertheless, I still insist to see the text. I need to be fully aware of what I'm in for."

Harry exhaled a huge sigh of relief, "That is…That is brilliant, sir."

Slightly off guard by the unexpected response the corners of Snape's mouth twitched ever so slightly into a smile at the teenager beside him, "…I suppose the only risk of that spell, would be the expense of my life. How much worse could it possibly get?"

"Better than doing nothing at all," Harry responded, then suddenly smirking lightly at his next train of thought with an attempt at some mild humor to lift the heaviness of the air around them. Well, it was risky on the account of the man's unpredictable mood, but who knows…Maybe the man would appreciate it. "…Besides, I refuse to go see Dumbledore's portrait again by myself."

"You wish to drag me there?" Snape scoffed, "I'd rather bloody not. My conscience will not be able to tolerate another manic cryptic response."

Harry smirked, "Well…he is a portrait now. At least, you can just, well…leave."

"Perhaps we shall take a bet on which one of us departs first in a feat of fury?" Snape looked rather amused, "My patience tether is painfully thin."

"Well, if my predictions are correct, sir, I'd say…Professor McGonagall might beat us to it," Harry couldn't resist a grin, knowing full well she would be the first to get mad at the three of them collectively.

But suddenly, Snape did something that took Harry by complete surprise. The man chuckled. He clutched the wound at his neck, wincing from the pain of the sudden movements. But it didn't stop him.

Harry wasn't sure if that was sarcasm or actually genuine, but despite that, he felt accomplished. Who else could have achieved the task of causing Severus Snape, the miserable Potions Master, to laugh? If they were going to continue being morbid about the entire situation, and he knew Snape to be heavy with his own dark humor, then they could at least try and see the upside to it. It seems rather amusing that, even though they both didn't always see eye to eye, they could at least attempt to understand each other in some twisted way. If he had this type of heavy conversation with Remus, he would have clearly felt uncomfortable and walked out, and Sirius probably would have told him that he reminded him of Snape and scold him. Well, possibly. It was difficult to know how either of them would have reacted, now that so many things have changed.

Feeling rather content with himself, Harry stood up from his chair, "I'll let you rest a bit, sir. I'll be downstairs…If you need anything." He made his way towards the door.

"…Potter?"

Harry turned around.

Snape opened his mouth to say something but bit back those words. Instead, his mind lingered, as his expression turned serious. Harry could see the inner conflict within him, because he knew very well it was difficult for him to openly express any kind of softness, within whatever emotions were still deeply buried within him, "I was…I was wrong to assume you were exactly like your father. I…recognise my mistake. But as it turns out you surpassed even the traits of your mother. I was a fool, blinded by past perceptions. You are, in fact, far different than either of them." The man winced slightly at his own words, not knowing if the teenager would be receptive to them from him, of all people.

A breath caught in Harry's throat as he nodded, catching him completely off guard by the strange compliment from none other than Snape, "I, uh…Thank you. Sir." Mustering up a small smile, he turned slowly on his heel as he left the room. Closing the door gently behind him, he made his way back to the sitting room to curl up by the fire and do his best to pick up another book and continue as he did before finding Snape on the floor, but his mind was racing a little too fast for him to focus.

The man actually apologised. In his own way, of course. And not in the way Harry expected. He knew he felt guilty about the deaths of his parents, but to apologise for perceiving Harry on a one-sided view…That was a shock even to him. Knowing that after all this time – seven years, actually – Severus Snape finally admitted that Harry was his own person. No child was ever like either of their parents, but a mixture of both. But even so, Harry himself knew that he was nothing like his father, and likely more resembling his mother. But understanding some of his mother's dismissive behaviors in her youth, Harry realised that he wasn't like that at all. He was thankful for at least having some of her more compassionate traits. But he often wondered how different they would have both been if they were still alive today.

Because everyone changes.

Suddenly, his anxiety began to elevate again, and he could feel his heart racing. It was almost as if he finally came to terms with the amount of moral pressure he was facing, juggling the man's life, and especially now that Snape trusted him enough to actually go through with this.

Since the Quarry rescue, neither of them had heard anything regarding the Death Eater's retaliation efforts. They were definitely laying low for now, until their plans to attack again somewhere. It seems there was still far more work to be done, and now they reached a bit of a dead-end in their efforts. There were still people missing, including Dean's parents and Lee Jordan. Not to mention nothing else had been discovered in terms of the mysterious poisonous gas that the Death Eaters had been brewing at Grimmauld Place before they took it back. The upcoming threat of that was so very real, and it was a frightening thought not knowing when and where they would strike with it. Perhaps there was another base at the Forest of Dean that was still very much concealed, but Harry had no desire to trek back into there again anytime soon.

How many more lives were at stake, even still?

Harry considered rounding up the DA yet again for another discussion, but it was still far too soon after the Quarry to consider sending anyone back out into danger again. And with Severus Snape weakening by the day, he will eventually be too unwell to participate. That was inevitable.

After a few hours had passed well into the evening, Harry made his way toward the kitchen and sat down at the far end of the table, with his head in his hands, deep in thought. His anxiety was still rather problematic.

"…Would Master Potter like a drink?" The croaky voice beside him startled Harry.

Harry glanced over to his side, to find the house-elf Kreacher looking up at him." Harry will be fine, Kreacher. Um…A hot chocolate would be great, actually."

Kreacher bowed his head subtly, as he shuffled his feet along the old wooden floorboards and attended to the kettle, clicking his fingers here and there, magically conjuring all the required utensils. Minutes later, the smell of hot chocolate began to waft through the air, which already started to calm his nerves. At the same time, Harry heard the front door open, and the sound of a light patter of feet echoed through the corridor. Hermione walked into the kitchen and looked relieved when she found Harry.

"Oh good, you're still here."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else, "Harry sighed, "…Everything okay?"

Hermione nodded, as she sat down beside Harry, "I've just finished adding the Occamy egg piece and the mandrake root, so that needs to boil for another four hours before I stir it again," She bit her lip, "So…how is he?"

"I stayed with him until he woke up. He was a bit grumpy, which is nothing unusual, but…I told him about the spell. He really wants to see the book before he is fully convinced."

"Oh, of course," Hermione retrieved her wand as she dug into her purple beaded bag and summoned the miniaturized dusty tome, expanding it again once she placed it on the table. She noticed Harry's confused expression, "Well, you can't expect me to leave it laying around, do you? We can't afford to misplace it. Even I can't memorise all of this."

"Right, yeah," Harry bit his lip, "So far, he has finally agreed to go along with it."

Hermione lowered her voice, "…Was he angry?"

"Frustrated, is probably a better term. I think he was too exhausted to argue. But he is willing, so that's something at least."

Hermione looked relieved, "Good, I'm glad. The first phase of the incantation takes place a week from now. We still need to find somewhere adequate to do this."

"What are the rules?"

"So firstly, it has to be somewhere not overly concealed. As in, out in the open. It must be in direct line with the full moon."

Harry nodded slowly in thought, "Okay. I have a few places in mind."

Hermione took a deep breath, "Secondly, it has to be secluded and away from potential eavesdroppers. Human or creature, alike. It does allow people to be present, but it can't be witnessed."

"What, why?"

"Because the curse can easily seek out another living thing upon direct eye contact when it senses that it is being extracted. It's more of a… defense mechanism. Similar to how you ended up with your scar. The eyes are essentially a conduit. Snape will be protected because only he can speak the incantations."

Harry furrowed his brow, "So say, if I go with him, I'll be at risk?"

"You can be there, but you cannot witness it. You're safe, so long as you…well, don't look."

"That's a rather unnerving thought, Hermione. I've never heard of a spell like that before."

"It is an incredibly old ritual, dating back to the twelfth century upon the realisation that dark magic was becoming popular among aspiring witches and wizards in order to threaten civilians and take over lands," Hermione explained, "This ritual itself was designed to counter some of the curses that were being created. As time continued and curses became more complex, the ritual was undergoing frequent changes to accommodate some of the environmental changes resulting in some of the diminishing ingredients. It was ever-evolving with time, adapting with newer curses."

Kreacher delivered two cups of hot chocolate, along with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies, to both Harry and Hermione. Harry immediately took a sip, feeling a comforting, invigorating warmth, "I suppose it lost popularity when counter-curse spells were being constructed, so then they had no need to resort to such a complex ritual."

"Exactly. Obviously, through time, a dark wizard would create a curse that is unmatched and unable to be eradicated through normal means. Hence why rituals like this are rare to perform. I've found this same spell in other books and they all tell me the same thing – The curse itself is very dependent on the person. What may work for one person, will not work for the other."

Harry nodded, "That reminds me of what Luna said. He needs to focus his intent in a positive way. I suppose the curse itself feeds on that dark energy, further latching onto the host. Makes sense."

Hermione took a sip of her hot chocolate, "Precisely."

Harry sighed, nursing his steaming mug in his hands, "It doesn't help that he thinks this is all just a waste of time. You try convincing him. It's bloody difficult. And you thought I was stubborn."

"You're the only one he'd most likely listen to, oddly enough," Hermione reached out to place a reassuring hand on Harry's forearm, noticing the rising worry within his face, "It'll be alright."

"What would you do, Hermione? If you were in my position."

"I wouldn't give up either if that's what you are implying."

"I'm not being unreasonable? Or…selfish?"

Hermione shook her head, squeezing her grip on his arm a little tighter, "Of course not, Harry. You've always been selfless. You don't want to see people suffering. You were compelled to approach Snape who was dying that night at Hogwarts…Even though you still saw him as the enemy because you had not yet witnessed the memories he gave you. At that point, we all believed him to be Voldemort's most loyal Death Eater. Even then, you still went to his side being none-the-wiser."

"It was the humane thing to do, wasn't it? After what we've all endured with Voldemort, at least Snape was willing to do the right thing in the end. Regardless of his horrible choices and upbringing," Harry bit his lip, "Besides, I'd feel guilty if I don't at least try. I just want to put an end to this…cycle of misery. For us all. I just want us all to live better lives."

Hermione smiled, "And we will. Once we deal with this mess – "

The pair heard a shuffle from the floor above, and minutes later, those sounds were met with careful footsteps descending the old creaky staircase, immediately causing Hermione to remove her hand from Harry. Snape walked into the kitchen and paused at the doorway, steadying himself against the frame slightly breathless, when he discovered Harry and Hermione occupying the table. The Professor stood with his usual formal ensemble, minus the traveling cloak, albeit a few buttons purposely unclasped from his neck. His haggard appearance was not much improved from when Harry saw him earlier, but the extra light in the kitchen seemed to further highlight his ashen, gaunt face. Upon the man's pause, Harry noticed his hesitation. But a further look of acknowledgment from Harry told unspoken words, and eventually, Snape made his way – very slowly - to the seat across from the pair, eyeing the book in interest.

Snape arched his eyebrow, still looking at the book, "…This is it?" He slumped down in the chair.

Hermione nodded, "Y-Yes, sir." She reached over to the aged book and flipped about a third of the way until she reached the start of the incantation they were working on. Carefully, she slid it across to him, anxiously awaiting his response.

Harry sat tensed and watched as Snape pulled the book closer to him, observing the aged, yellowed pages closely, running a slender finger across each text. There was an uncomfortable silence between the three of them, as both Harry and Hermione observed the man before them. It was actually rather nerve-wracking and Harry felt like he was being subjected to a one-on-one NEWT level exam, causing further anxiety to creep up within his chest. Trying his best not to stare, Harry hastily took a sip of the hot chocolate which was slowly cooling within the mug in his hands.

Occasionally, Snape would frown at the text before him, while giving a timely nod where he saw fit. He was most certainly deep in thought, mind analysing, and Harry knew better than to interrupt. He stared tight-lipped at the old pages, as a trembling finger trailed all the way down through the text on each page. Not knowing his immediate thoughts were likely the most panic-inducing, and it was difficult to anticipate if he was going to completely explode in foul anger or shrug it off like a simple hex. And Harry most certainly knew that Hermione had the same thoughts.

"Miss Granger, I cannot give this book my full attention if you continue to nervously tap your foot." He did not look up from the book when Snape's typically commanding deep voice caused Hermione to jump in her seat, after a lengthy silence, and immediately clasped her hands on her lap feeling rather embarrassed with herself.

They continued to sit in silence, watching as Snape finally reached the lengthy ingredients list. Harry watched as Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing at a few of the things he was reading. It didn't look like a good sign for him to have that response, and he could only hope it was because of the likely reactions of said combinations that may have caused him to be concerned. And definitely far more aware of them than even he or Hermione was.

"Occamy egg…Carefully melted and weighed precisely?" Snape began to fire off ingredient questions.

Startled, Hermione nodded, "Yes, sir."

"…Red clover added before the ashwinder eggs?"

"Yes."

"Timely cuttings of the squill bulbs moments after direct harvesting? Skin removed and finely chopped?"

"Yes – Neville took care of it."

Snape tensed, as he winced slightly, "…Not the most ideal volunteer."

"He is particularly good with herbology. He knows what he's doing," Harry quickly interjected.

Snape pursed his lips as he redirected his gaze back to the book, mumbling other ingredients to himself, in his own attempt to decipher the logistical nightmare. Eventually, he reached the three pages of incantations in Latin, as he carefully read each passage, and the required objects needed to complete it.

"So, it requires a vessel. Seems to be painfully reminiscent of those bloody Horcruxes," Snape curled his lips in distaste.

"Well, it's not the same, sir. This is transferring the curse you already have, into a non-living object - " Hermione attempted to explain but was sharply cut off.

"- I am fully aware what this incantation entails, Miss Granger," Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "It is not a pleasant concoction of ingredients and I am fully aware of the desired effects of each. Under said conditions…It requires no drawing of blood by any means, nor need for a sacrifice, so it has no moral barriers that I would be privy to protest." His frown softened as worry seeped into his face, "This is not a spell I'd recommend by far. But…I do have respect for its…method."

"So, it's…okay?" Harry waited in anticipation for the answer, "You're not…mad?"

Snape looked up to glare at Harry, "Well, I am not overjoyed about it. I've heard vague recollections of this incantation in the past, but I've never read into it in finite detail…" He then looked at Hermione, and both seemed to share an uncomfortable understanding, causing Snape to purse his lips and draw in a deep breath as Hermione looked away. Harry was confused.

Harry noticed this odd exchange between the two, causing him to look incredibly worried, "…What is it you're not telling me?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but was cut off again by Snape who extended his palm up to silence her, deciding to answer instead, "Rituals that forbid any witnesses, are often due to the…Nature of the spell effects. Because they are also, well…unbearable to witness. What does that remind you of?"

At that moment, Harry's heart seemed to stop. Yes. He knew exactly what that implied, "…A-A Dementor's Kiss?" He shook his head, "…But it's not the same thing. Right?" He looked at Hermione, who appeared incredibly upset.

"Technically not, no," Hermione's lips quivered, "I didn't quite understand that at first, but the more I kept reading into it, the more it made sense. The effects are undoubtedly…similar. It wasn't until we were well into the commencement of the potions, did I realise…Oh, no…" Hermione threw her hands over her mouth, feeling incredibly terrible and ashamed about the situation.

Snape looked dismal as he spoke quietly, "Well, if this doesn't do the deed, then nothing will. It is potent and no doubt effective. However…" He clasped his hands together, gently, "…I am willing to proceed with it. Curse removal is never intended to be a simple feat. That's the intention."

No matter how much Snape tried to diffuse the complicated situation, Harry could not help but shake the image out of his mind. He'd seen what happens with a Dementor and it was enough to make him feel absolutely disgusted with himself. To purposely subject anyone to that, was horrendous, and that thought alone made Harry feel sick to his stomach. He knew it was no simple spell. And he had a feeling Hermione knew more about it than she dared to tell him. He was a little mad at Hermione for not telling him the details, but he also understood why she decided to keep that from him. Had Harry known the true effects of the spell, he may not even have agreed to it. But Harry, in all his blind persistence in keeping someone alive, did not realise the severe costs that may arise from it.

How could Harry be so…ignorant? Maybe he was selfish after all and in his meticulous care for the man's wellbeing, had no idea that this was likely to cause him more harm. It was still a great risk even with the possibility of removing the curse completely. But to enact a spell that causes a certain level of devastation…Harry couldn't bear it.

Harry did his best to keep calm, but that was a ridiculous attempt when Snape could read him like the book before him. Harry's voice trembled, "If this works…The curse will be gone from you. Completely?"

Snape tilted his head gently in Harry's direction, eyeing him carefully, "…Yes. If. "

"The three potions he'll need to take will give him some protection from the negative effects," Hermione finally managed to compose herself enough to respond, "…That's what they were designed to do. Right, sir?"

Snape nodded, "Indeed. Otherwise, I doubt any host would survive the first night, without them."

Harry swallowed the rising bile within his throat, still feeling rather wretched from the idea of it, "Fine. I suppose…" Rising slowly from his chair, feeling his chest tighten from the panic exploding within him, "I-I need to go…" Lowering his head to avoid the concerned gazes of Hermione, and even Snape, Harry abandoned the rest of the conversation and made his way to his room, knowing very well if he stayed with them any longer, he would explode in either rage or tears. It was unpredictable which way they would turn, and Harry felt torn.

He slammed the bedroom door behind him and kicked the bedside table before he sat on the edge of the bed, feeling so mad at himself. His hands shook in anger. Why did everything have to be so difficult? What will it take, to not have the risk of losing people again? No matter how hard Harry tried, he always seemed to inadvertently risk death for someone he knows. Nothing was ever easy, and Harry had far too much he wished for. But something always had to go horribly wrong, and this was just another cruel example. It just wasn't fair. It was just a little too much.

It didn't take long for Harry to hear footsteps ascending the stairs when several sharp knocks caused him to jump a little within his skin. Initially, he ignored them, thinking that whoever it was, would just go away. But they were a little persistent.

"Answer me, Potter."

Harry groaned, not keen on the confrontation.

The door eventually clicked open and Snape walked in with a concerned frown, "It will be wise of you to answer when I call. Silence can be, at times…concerning."

Harry looked up at the man and clenched his jaw, "…I just needed some time alone."

With a deep breath, Snape walked over to the bed and sat down beside Harry. They sat together in silence for a few moments, before Snape turned to the Gryffindor, "Listen to me very carefully. Do not unleash your anger on Miss Granger. However, this is exactly why you should not meddle in magic you do not understand. Things are not always as black and white as they are on a page. There are reasons why incantations such as this one are rare and complicated because they can create unseen catastrophes – "

"-But – "

"– Let me finish, Potter," Snape was calm and collected, reading the concern on Harry's face, "Nonetheless, I will proceed with this ritual, " He sighed, "…When I made my pledge to Albus to protect you upon the night your parents died, that pledge alone…Saved my life. It is only fitting that I continue to extend it for as long as I live."

"I'm sorry – "

"- I don't want your apology, Potter. We both continue to blame ourselves for things that have happened to us beyond our control. Yet we still feel immense guilt. You and I know this very well, do we not?" Snape fixated his gaze on his own trembling hands neatly upon his lap, whilst releasing a shuddered breath in defeat, "I've always welcomed death as an act of clemency, however, being threatened by it daily with this wretched curse…I refuse this to my fate."

A breath caught in Harry's throat, "Once we get rid of it, and we clear your name, then you'll be…free. And you don't have to see my face anymore."

"One step at a time, Potter," Snape raised his eyebrow, and turned his head to face the Gryffindor, "Furthermore, I forbid you to be there upon the first night."

Harry frowned, "Why not? What if something goes wrong? I can't just…leave you there."

"Whatever happens, I don't want you to endure it. You've suffered enough – "

The pair were suddenly startled by a consistent pecking at the window. Harry and Snape turned to find a brown and white owl perched outside at the windowsill, with a letter clutched within its beak. Harry stood up and opened the window, retrieving the letter as the owl flew off immediately into the night sky. Turning the letter in his hands, he flipped it over.

"It's addressed to the both of us," Harry noticed the Hogwarts seal, as he tore the envelope and pulled out the letter from inside, making his way back to the bed to sit beside the Professor once again. He scanned the neat, handwritten inked letter, feeling immediate dread as he passed it to Snape to read. "It's from Professor McGonagall. The Memorial is happening in three days' time, on the one-month anniversary."

Snape's onyx eyes darted over the letter, with his expression filled with just as much dread as Harry's did. Harry merely leaned forward burying his head in his hands. At that moment, it was clear to the pair that neither of them wanted to be there. More wounds that they didn't want to reopen.

It was true that both of them still felt immense guilt for all that happened. But more so, for all the lives lost that day.

To be once again reminded of that was a little too painful to bear.