When Albus returned to the room an hour later, Severus had pulled a chair beside Harry's bed and was sitting slumped in it, one hand gently carding through the boy's hair while Harry continued to sleep peacefully.

Albus quietly closed the door behind him and considered lighting the room with a soft Lumos charm, but then decided to let the moonlight provide the only light. It was late, and besides that, he thought Severus might be more comfortable in the darkness.

Severus continued to stroke through Harry's hair without looking up. Albus conjured another chair and sat down on Harry's other side. The two men sat in silence for a while.

Finally Severus sighed and spoke. "I never even apologised."

"It's not too late," Albus replied softly.

"I wish..." Severus' voice trailed off and he didn't finish the thought. After a few moments, he raised his eyes to Albus'. "It was my curse, Albus. My own curse almost killed him."

Albus shook his head. "Bellatrix is the one who attacked Harry, not you, Severus. I will not allow you to blame yourself for this."

Even in the faint light, Severus' dark eyes were haunted. "It was my curse," he repeated.

"And it was your cure that saved him," Albus pointed out. "Harry would have died if not for you. Several times over, in fact. Severus, you did nothing wrong today."

"Then it's the only day in my miserable life that I haven't," Severus answered heavily. "Albus, I created that evil, monstrous curse. I used it against people. I taught it to Bellatrix. How can you forgive me? How can he?" He looked back down at Harry, at his hand stroking the child's hair, and he thought that he ought to pull it away, that he wasn't fit to touch anyone as good and as pure as Harry. But he didn't. He didn't deserve Harry, but the thought of losing him was too terrible. Losing Harry would destroy him.

Albus' voice remained quiet, but he spoke so firmly that Severus felt compelled to drag his gaze from Harry and look at his mentor again.

"Severus, I meant it when I said I would not let you take on this burden of guilt. Yes, in the past you made mistakes...terrible mistakes and innocent people suffered because of that. But Severus, you have repented and you have done all you could to atone for those mistakes. You must learn to forgive yourself, as the rest of us have done."

"I don't deserve to be forgiven," Severus muttered, ducking his head again.

"Well, if anyone deserved to be forgiven, it wouldn't be forgiveness, would it?" Albus laid a hand on the younger man's arm. "Severus, I do know how hard it is to forgive one's own self, especially when others have been hurt, but you need to try. You are no longer the angry young man who joined Voldemort. You realised how wrong that was, and you had the strength to turn away from it. You have served the Light faithfully for many years and you have saved many innocent people, often at great risk to yourself. No one could have done more."

"Now, it is time...past time...for you to forgive yourself and let others into your life, into your heart. You don't have to close yourself off anymore. You don't have to deny yourself the joy of caring for other people and allowing them to care for you. Let go of your anger, your bitterness, and your guilt, and make the most of your life. You could have easily died today, too, but you've been given another chance. Make the most of it."

Severus bit his lip. "It's all well and good for you to say that, Albus. Perhaps you're even right. But you aren't among those that I've hurt. You heard Ron Weasley. For five years, I've mistreated Harry and made him miserable. He never deserved that. How can he forgive me?"

"I think you may be surprised, Severus. Harry has a compassionate and generous heart. Things have already changed between the two of you, and once he understands that you are truly sorry and that you care for him, I think he will readily forgive you."

"I hope so," Severus said in a low voice.

For a while they watched Harry sleeping. Then Albus spoke again. "He needs you, Severus."

Severus looked faintly surprised. "Do you think so? I mean, obviously the boy needs someone watching out for him, but now that Voldemort is gone, I would think the danger would lessen somewhat."

"We must be careful not to lower our guard too quickly, though," Albus said at once. "Voldemort may be dead, but many of his followers are alive. Bellatrix is the one who almost killed Harry today, after all, and I imagine that others who survived could be harboring plans of revenge. I told the Weasleys that Harry must be kept safe partly to cover the slavery spell, but it is also the truth. We must be careful not to let anything happen to him."

Severus nodded grimly.

Albus went on. "But that wasn't what I meant when I said Harry needed you. He needs you to care for him, to be his family. That is all Harry's ever wanted, and it's always been denied him." Albus' face grew sad and Severus thought that for a moment he saw the glint of tears in the headmaster's eyes. "Perhaps I was wrong to leave him with the Dursleys. Severus, I think you are not the only one who owes Harry an apology."

"He would have been dead within a month if you had let the Weasleys adopt him," Severus said. "They have absolutely no idea of cunning or discretion." He tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice, but even he could tell he hadn't entirely succeeded.

Albus arched an eyebrow at him, in a good imitation of Severus' dry expression. "Oh, I don't know. I think you might be underestimating them. But if it's any comfort to you, I think you are better for Harry now than they are, despite the fact that they love him dearly."

"I..." Severus began, but then stopped. He trusted Albus and allowed himself to be more open and vulnerable with his mentor than with anyone else, but his feelings for Harry were too raw for him to talk about, even with Albus.

"Harry needs you to help him come to terms with the slavery spell," Albus continued. "And of all the people in the world, Severus, you are uniquely able to empathise and understand how difficult this is for him. You, too, know what it is to be a slave and because of that, I think you can help him more than anyone else could."

Severus looked thoughtful and then slowly nodded. Yes, Albus was right about that. He may have never been under an actual curse, as Harry was, but he knew what it was to be a slave. Voldemort's Death Eaters had been little more, and had been more cruelly treated than many actual slaves. It had always amazed Severus that none of them had seemed able to see it.

"I will do my best for him," he said quietly.

Suddenly he looked up. "Norie and Zan! They must be worried sick. Harry and I were supposed to be back for dinner. They were going to have a cake ready..."

His throat closed again. For some reason, that seemed terribly important...that Harry had not been there to eat his birthday cake. He felt Albus' hand on his shoulder.

"I will go now and explain everything to them. Try to sleep, Severus. It's been a long day and you are recovering as well."

Severus nodded wearily. He caressed through Harry's hair one last time and then slowly made his way back to his own bed. Albus waited until he was lying down before leaving. Severus closed his eyes and lay still, listening hard. He could just make out Harry's soft even breathing in the darkness. It was a comforting sound and Severus smiled slightly. Perhaps Albus was right. Perhaps he could take good care of Harry and help him to be happy again.

His last thought before falling asleep was, Must be sure to put dittany salve on Harry's wounds in the morning. Can't let them scar...he has enough already...

***

Harry was vaguely aware of strong gentle hands smoothing a cool creamy salve on his chest. His eyelids fluttered, but they were still so heavy. After a few seconds, he just gave up and let them stay closed. It was nice just to float like this, not really awake and not really asleep. He could hear a soft low voice murmuring to him...at least he thought he caught his name once in a while, but he couldn't really make out the words. He thought he might be able to, if he tried hard enough, but he was so tired. He just wanted to float.

Maybe he'd died. Maybe when he opened his eyes, he would see his mum and dad and Sirius. He hoped so. But deep in the back of his mind, something was trying to tell him that the voice wasn't right for that. It was a man's voice and he'd heard it before, but it wasn't Sirius.

Harry ignored that feeling, though. He just wanted to enjoy floating, the pleasant sensation of the warm hands tenderly smoothing salve on him, and the low melodic voice. Eventually the hands carefully eased him over, so that he was lying on his stomach. Harry had a vague feeling that he needed to protest, to turn himself back over. There was some reason he didn't want anyone to see his back...but he couldn't think what it was.

The hands paused and the voice stopped for a minute, but before Harry could try to think what was wrong or wake up more, they continued, as soft and gentle as before. Darkness closed in again and Harry drifted back into sleep.

The next time he woke, it was to full awareness. He was lying down, but was propped up on a couple of pillows. He felt sore and stiff, but nothing hurt too badly. It was daytime...pale sunlight streamed through a window, but Harry couldn't see the sun so he couldn't see its position in the sky and guess the time.

He fumbled for his glasses and found them on a side table. He put them on and looked around. There was no clock. Except for the window, the pale walls were bare, as was the side table. There was one door, closed, and one other bed in the room, on the other side of the table from his own. It was unmade, but the blankets were folded neatly halfway down. It wasn't just a jumbled mess.

The room was unfamiliar, and yet Harry had been in similar places often enough to guess that it was a hospital ward or infirmary, though not the one at Hogwarts. St. Mungo's? It reminded him of the ward Mr. Weasley had been in last year. For a second Harry wondered why he was in a hospital, but then it all came back.

He'd done it. He'd killed Voldemort. He didn't know how, but he distinctly remembered Dumbledore saying that Voldemort was dead.

And then Bellatrix Lestrange had been there, too, and she'd cast some curse at him. There had been a lot of blood, and Harry had fallen and lost consciousness.

But he hadn't died.

At least he assumed he hadn't. Somehow he'd never imagined there being hospitals or injuries in the afterlife. No, somehow he'd lived again.

I really am the Boy-Who-Lived. Why is it so bloody impossible for me to die?

For a few minutes, Harry just lay there, ruminating on the unfairness of life. All he wanted was to die. Everyday, all over the world, other people died, many of whom didn't want to or weren't ready to. Why couldn't he? He would gladly trade places with one of them if it were possible.

But finally he sighed. For whatever reason, he was still alive. But at least Voldemort was dead and now that he was gone, Harry could make his own plans. He wouldn't have to live much longer. Soon he could be with his family.

He had just reached that point in his thoughts when the door opened and Severus came hurrying in, carrying a tall potted plant in one arm and an enormous balloon bouquet in the other. He looked blankly at Harry.

"You're awake."

"Yes, sir."

"I wanted to be here when you woke. I only stepped out for a minute. Albus and I were speaking with the Healers about where to put all your gifts, and..."

"Gifts?" Now it was Harry's turn to look blank. He remembered all the presents that Severus had bought him in Diagon Alley before Voldemort had showed up, but they'd all been shrunken to fit inside pockets. Harry really couldn't imagine why Severus and Dumbledore would need to talk about them with the Healers.

Severus came over and set the plant on the table. Then he cast a quick charm to make the balloons hover in the air by the foot of Harry's bed.

"Yes, mostly flowers, balloons, toy animals, other trinkets like that. I'm not sure quite how, as no one is supposed to know where you are, but somehow people seem to have surmised that you are in St. Mungo's and they are sending you tokens of their affection and gratitude. It began early this morning and the deliveries have just been increasing by the hour. Our room would be overflowing by now, except that Healer Bushby has given strict orders that you were not to be disturbed, so they've been keeping your gifts in the lobby and in empty rooms. But a rather annoying medi-witch insisted on dragging me out to ask me what to do with them."

"Oh. What did you say?" Harry asked.

"I gave them a list of your friends' names with instructions to save anything that came from them, and to save anything that seemed valuable, but to donate the rest to other patients, especially those who didn't have any family or friends of their own." Severus paused. "I hope that's all right with you."

"Oh, yes. Of course," Harry agreed. He looked from the balloons to the plant. "Who are these from?"

"The balloons are from Albus, Poppy, and the other Hogwarts' professors." Severus looked slightly embarrassed as he added. "The plant is from me."

Harry could only stare at him for a moment before managing to say, "Um, thank you."

"It is customary to give some type of gift when someone you care for has to go to hospital," Severus went on quickly.

Harry nodded. "It's really nice. I like it."

"You're welcome," Severus said.

At the same time, his previous words registered with Harry. ‘Someone you care for'. So Severus cared for him? Well, Harry had begun to think he might...he seemed so changed lately. But to hear him actually say it...that meant a lot. It really did.

Tears stung his eyes and to hide it, Harry looked over at the plant, pretending to examine it more closely.

"It is a spathiphyllum plant, more commonly known as a peace lily," Severus remarked. He held out his wand and a chair scooted across the floor to come to rest beside Harry's bed. The professor sat down in it.

Harry looked back at him in concern. The last time he'd seen Severus, the man had been tortured by the cruciatus curse.

"How are you, sir? Severus? Are you all right?"

Severus nodded. "Yes. I just needed a few potions and time to rest. How do you feel, Harry?"

"I'm all right."

"You're looking better. Of course you've had several more vials of blood-replenisher by now."

Harry looked at him curiously. "What spell was it that Bellatrix used on me?"

Severus' face seemed to close off. "Sectumsempra. It is a dark curse that causes excessive bleeding." He started to say something else, but then he abruptly stopped and looked down at his hands.

More for something to say than out of a real desire to know, Harry asked, "What time is it?"

"It is late afternoon, the day after Voldemort's death," Severus answered.

Harry smiled slightly. "I've spent a lot of time being unconscious this summer. I hope none of the professors assigns an essay on what we did over the holidays. Mine would be pretty short."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Harry realised that he would never begin his sixth-year at Hogwarts. He would never write another essay or go to class or see the Great Hall again. It hit him like a blow, but then he thought of seeing his parents and Sirius and felt comforted. Being with them again would be worth it.

Severus gave him a curious look. "I cannot imagine any of the Hogwarts professors assigning an essay on such a trivial topic."

"Muggle teachers do sometimes, in the primary schools," Harry told him.

"Really? How strange." Severus started to say something, then stopped again. He folded his hands, took a deep breath, and tried again.

"Harry, I have been waiting all day to talk with you, but now that the opportunity is here, I hardly know how to begin. It is...very difficult for me."

Harry wasn't sure what to say, so he just waited and after a moment Severus continued.

"Last night I realised that you had come close to dying, and that there were things I needed to tell you that I had been putting off. I promised myself that I would tell you as soon as I could."

He took another deep breath. "Harry, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

"Yes." Severus nodded. "For the way I misjudged you and mistreated you for the past five years. I really have no excuse. You were an innocent child who never did me any wrong, and I treated you terribly. I can't blame you if you can't forgive me, but I am sorry."

The words were formal and stiff, but Harry had learned that that was a cover for when Severus really felt something deeply, just like the guarded look in his eyes and his carefully blank expression.

Somehow the hurt and the anger from the past faded and Harry realised that he could forgive Severus. Perhaps he already had. He reached over to lay his hand on Severus' arm again, as he'd done yesterday at the café in Diagon Alley, but this time he didn't pull it away quickly.

"It's all right, Severus."

Severus froze and emotion flickered across his face. Then he took Harry's hand between his own. "No, it's not all right, Harry. I was horrible to you. But I will make up for it. I promise you I will."

"Really, Severus. I forgive you." Harry told him.

For a second, he thought Severus might actually hug him, but then there was a knock on the door and Dumbledore came in.

"Harry, I'm so glad to see you're awake," he smiled. "You're feeling better, I hope?"

"Yes, sir. I'm fine now."

Severus cleared his throat. "You still need to take precautions, Harry. You will need to take a few potions, and put on dittany salve so there won't be any scars, and of course, no strenuous activity for a few days."

Harry just nodded. "Yes, sir." It was easier to agree than to argue, he'd discovered. Severus did seem to be pretty fierce when it came to taking care of him.

"The Healers say you should be completely well by this time next week," Dumbledore said, coming in and conjuring a second chair for himself. "We're very lucky that the both of you survived."

"Sir? There was something I was wondering," Harry began.

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Yes, Harry?"

"Well, do you know how I beat Voldemort? Because it just doesn't seem like I should have been able to. He's...was...a lot more powerful than me."

The headmaster shook his head. "Actually, Harry, I believe you have more raw power than Voldemort did. Do you remember when you confronted him in the graveyard at Riddle House, at the end of your fourth-year? Do you remember you told me how your wands connected and there was a bead of light that Voldemort was pushing towards your wand and then you concentrated with all your might and managed to push it back to his?"

"Of course," Harry mumbled. He wasn't likely to forget it, was he?

"And your victory there is what led to Priori Incantatum working on Voldemort's wand and eventually enabled you to escape. Well, when you told me that, I knew then for certain that you were the greater wizard," Dumbledore told him.

"Still, you are right, that at this point in time you really shouldn't have been able to defeat Voldemort. Ordinarily it would take years more of schooling, training, and experience before you would be able to rival Voldemort in a duel."

"But Harry, for better or worse, the ordinary rules never have applied to you. I do not know for an absolute fact, but I believe that once again, your mother's protection saved your life. You see, when Voldemort took your blood and used it to resurrect his own body, he also took Lily's protection into his body. He tied you to life. He could not kill you. Any one of his Death Eaters could have, but in his arrogance, he refused to allow them to. He was determined that he would kill you himself and prove to everyone that he was stronger. When he cast Avada Kedavra against you, your mother's sacrifice flared and caused the Killing Curse to rebound on him. His hubris was his downfall."

Harry was quiet, thinking it over. It made sense, in a way. But it wasn't right for him to get the credit for saving everyone. He hadn't done anything. It was Lily Potter who had really beaten Voldemort.

He voiced his thoughts, but both Severus and Dumbledore shook their heads.

"If you hadn't had the courage to face him, Harry, then Voldemort would still be alive today," Dumbledore said firmly. "You do deserve some of the credit. Certainly, if you wish to explain to the public how you came to survive, you may, but don't sell yourself short either. You didn't know that your mother's protection would still work and you were willing to give your life for all of us. You most definitely are a hero."

Harry started to object, but then he noticed something else that Dumbledore had said. "The public?"

"Everyone knows that you defeated Voldemort yesterday, Harry. July 31st may well become a national holiday in the near future. Ministry officials and newspaper reporters are having fits, wanting to know when they can speak with you," Dumbledore explained.

Harry shuddered and Severus squeezed his hand.

"Of course we will shield you from it as much as possible," Dumbledore reassured him. "But you may have to speak with a few people before the fuss will die down."

Harry wanted to protest, but then he remembered that he would be gone soon so he just shrugged and nodded. "All right."

Both Severus and Dumbledore seemed a little surprised. Severus added, "But you don't have to right away. We will wait at least until next week, when you have recovered. It will give us time to prepare a statement and figure out exactly how much we want to let people know."

Harry nodded again.

There was another knock on the door and a medi-witch poked her head in. "Excuse me, sir, but we have a delivery for Mr. Potter. It's from people on that list you gave us."

Dumbledore and Severus both stood, but the headmaster waved for Severus to sit back down. "I'll check it out, Severus."

He left the room and Harry looked over at the professor. "Sir? Severus? Why does he have to check it out?"

Severus sighed. "Just to be sure that it's safe, Harry. It most likely is from some of your friends, but we want to be certain that nothing cursed or dangerous in any way gets in here to you."

Harry suddenly remembered last year when Broderick Bode had been killed by a Devil's Snare plant that someone had sneaked in, and he understood why Severus and Dumbledore were being so careful.

But moments later Dumbledore came back in with a wrapped box and two separate balloons tied onto two toy animals...a snowy owl and a red weasel.

"These are perfectly safe, Harry. I believe they are from the Weasleys and Miss Granger."

The blue balloon tied to the snowy owl was from Hermione. On the attached card, she had written a dozen questions in her tiny neat handwriting, but at the end, she added,

Harry, I know you must be exhausted and maybe not feeling well yet. Don't worry about trying to answer. I'm going to come tomorrow with Ron and we'll talk then. Oh, Harry, I can't believe it! Love, Hermione.

The yellow balloon tied to the red weasel was, of course, from the Weasleys. Every member of the family, except Charlie who was in Romania and Percy who Harry supposed was still being a git, had written ‘Get Well Soon' messages, and Ginny and her parents had also written that they loved him.

Ron had written: Harry, the weasel is so you know you're one of us. Hermione and I are going to come visit you tomorrow. I'm not sure how we're going to get in, but we'll be there, one way or the other. See you then!

Harry just stared at the card for a long time while confused, jumbled feelings warred within him. Part of him desperately wanted to see Ron and Hermione and the other Weasleys. He was one of them and he missed them.

But if they came, they would ask so many questions, and Harry just didn't feel up to answering them. Would they find out about the slavery spell? That was the most important thing. Harry didn't think he could bear for anyone, even his closest friends, to know about that. They wouldn't understand and it would be impossible to endure their horror and pity. Harry thought that he would rather die than have to face that.

But if he died soon, it might be his last chance to see Ron and Hermione. How could he leave forever without seeing them again? On the other hand, how could he bear knowing that it would be the last time he would see them? Wouldn't it be better to just remember them from school? Wouldn't it be better for them, too, not to see him again?

"Harry?" It was Severus. Harry hesitated, but then silently handed him the cards.

While Severus was reading them, Harry opened the box and found bags of chocolate frogs and Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans, as well as choice selections from Fred and George's joke shop. He forced himself to smile when he saw Dumbledore and Severus watching him, but he thought they probably knew something was wrong.

Severus spoke slowly, as if it cost him a great effort. "Harry, do you want to see your friends?"

"No," Harry said without thinking. Then he quickly added, "Not yet. I just don't feel up to it."

Dumbledore still looked suspicious, but Severus, who normally would have been, too, only looked relieved. "Well, then, why don't I see if the Healers are ready to release you and then we can go home?"