Harry Potter walked towards St. Mungo’s Hospital. It was a beautiful summer's day but the sun didn’t cheer Harry up at all. The closer he got the slower he walked, and he once again asked himself where the famous Gryffindor courage, that reckless trait in him which helped him to succeed against Voldemort, was hiding. Maybe it hadn’t been Gryffindor courage all along. Maybe that fearlessness was the bit of Voldemort in him that was now dead.

He had been avoiding this visit for weeks. A rather large lady on the receptio greeted him. She regarded him suspiciously before her gaze fell on the scar. A hasty smile appeared on her face. “What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?” she asked with an accent that he couldn’t quite place.

Harry took a deep breath. “P-Professor Snape please.” Her face darkened.

“Fourth floor. Ask for Poppy, she’s here today.” Harry gulped and nodded.

When the lift reached the fourth floor, he walked immediately towards the staff room and gently knocked the door.

Madame Pomfrey appeared immediately, looking more exhausted than ever. So many were killed and wounded in the war, and Pomfrey looked as if she hadn’t slept for weeks. St. Mungo’s was busy.

“Mr. Potter. I have expected you all summer.” Pomfrey said quietly and Harry blushed, feeling guilty about having avoided the visit for so long.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I- well, I’m here now.” Pomfrey gave him a curt nod and brushed past him, gesturing Harry to follow her. Harry threw a glance at Lockhart, Umbridge and the Longbottoms and wondered again why Snape was in this ward. He couldn’t help but throw Umbridge a nasty glare. For Lockhart he just felt pity, and the Longbottoms… Harry knew that he could have shared Neville’s burden easily and Neville, in return, could have been the Chosen One.

Harry shuddered and tried to shrug those thoughts off. He did not wish to swap with Neville and ever since he knew about his parents, he wondered which destiny would be worse. Dead parents or ones who had been tortured into insanity and would never, ever recover. Never recognise their own son.

“How is Professor Snape?” Harry asked, trying not to sound scared.

Pomfrey halted and turned to Harry. She scrutinised him from top to bottom and seemed to realise that Harry genuinely didn’t know anything about the man’s condition.

Suddenly, George ran towards him, stopping so close that he invaded his private space. Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably. Then, a large grin appeared on the freckled face and he said “Hi Harry!” Harry smiled back, but felt as if there was something wrong.

“Hi George.”

“I’m Fred,” he exclaimed mischieviously. “No no, I’m George. That’s Fred.” and he pointed at a spot next to him. Harry closed his eyes and his body stiffened. He wanted to get out of here.

“See you around, George,” he muttered, forcing a smile onto his face. George grinned again and ran back to his room. Harry thought he caught a glimpse of Mrs. Weasley in there and quickly walked past. He couldn’t face her just yet.

A tiny woman with mousy brown hair and huge grey eyes shuffled towards them. She stared at Harry, her eyes wide open and showing no expression. “Where is Colin?” she asked Harry. “Have you seen Colin? I can’t find him anywhere, he was supposed to come home for summer…” she shuffled away, repeating the same sentence to the next visitors.

Harry felt as if he would pass out any minute, but he kept walking. Finally, they reached the corridor and Madame Pomfrey gently pushed him into a chair and closed a curtain.

Harry just stared at her. “I can’t do this…” he whispered.

Pomfrey cocked her head slightly and patted his arm a little. “We have been expecting you for weeks Mr. Potter.” she said in an expressionless voice.

“I’m sorry. I already said…”

Pomfrey shook her head. “I didn’t mean as a visitor.”

Harry stared at her and his eyes widened in shock. “I’m fine. Honestly. It’s just… it’s all because of me…”

Pomfrey rested both her hands on her hips and stared at him. “That is exactly why you should think about staying for a while. Or get some…”

Harry shook his head violently. “I’m fine. Really. Just tell me what’s wrong with Snape before I go in…”

Pomfrey sighed, but didn’t discuss any further. “You left him in the Shack… thinking that he was dead. Technically he was. Miss Lovegood walked in after you came out and recuscitated him, administering anti-venom-potions and several blood repleneshing potions. She even managed to heal the wounds on his neck where that snake bit him. Well…” Pomfrey trailed off and Harry knew that he didn’t to hear what she was about to say. “He regained consciousness quite quickly. Then he heard how You-Know-Who killed you. And heard the proclamation of your death minutes later. He slipped out of consciousness and we haven’t been able to… to reach him.”

“Oh,” was all Harry could say. He felt so stupid. Maybe, if he had plucked up the courage to come here a few weeks ago it would have been easier.

“Can I go in now, please?”

Pomfrey smiled and Harry could see hope flickering in her eyes. He had no idea how he was going to help, but he had to give it a try. But the idea of - yet again - people expecting him to fix things, to save people, made him feel nauseous. It was luck, unbelievable luck that destroyed Voldemort and no one could expect this luck to go on forever.

Pomfrey opened the door to Snape’s room and Harry entered. She left, but not without giving him that hopeful glance again.

Harry wasn’t prepared at all for the sight that was greeting him. His former Potions Master, his arch enemy was lying on his back, his cheeks sunken in, his breathing so steady that Harry thought it must be supported by magic.

Harry had a quick look around the room. It was completely empty, even Umbridge seemed to have gotten more visitors and stupid presents than Snape did. He quickly pulled a chair out from under the table. The screeching noise made him cringe, it seemed too loud. Snape didn’t react at all.

Harry sat down and felt unbelievably uncomfortable. He knew that if Snape was conscious he would never have wanted him, of all people, to sit next to his bed and scrutinise him.

“H-Hello Professor…” he said quietly, but to him, it sounded as if he was shouting.

He winced at the sound of his own voice and suddenly felt panicky. Since when was he scared of his own voice? And when exactly had he become such a coward? Snape was lying there unconscious because of him. He hadn’t called help fast enough and he… hadn’t gone to the hospital fast enough. Nobody had told him. He hadn’t listened. He had shut himself off in the past few weeks, grieving and… hiding. He couldn’t face any of the Weasleys, not even Ginny. It was his fault that Fred was dead. And Colin. Tonks. Remus. Sirius. Cedric. He shouldn’t have allowed everyone to protect him from Voldemort.

Harry closed his eyes briefly and rubbed his temples.

“Professor. It’s me. Harry. I- well… I made it. Voldemort is dead and I was, too, but then I came back.” No reaction. The breathing was just as deep, the rhythm so steady that it gave him the creeps. Harry brought his hand forward to touch Snape’s, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He put it quickly into his pocket and took a deep breath.

The door opened and startled Harry. Madame Pomfrey stuck her head in. “Everything alright, Mr. Potter?” Harry gazed at her and then slowly shook his head. “I have no idea what to do,” he admitted. He took his glasses off and tiredly rubbed his eyes, but quickly stopped when he saw Pomfrey’s suspicious glance resting on him.

He had to get out of here. He’d go mad if he stayed any longer and then they would keep him here too, along with George who told everyone he was Fred, grinning happily. Along with Mrs. Creevey who still thought that Colin would turn up any minute.

Cold sweat appeared on his forehead and he slowly raised from his seat. “I can’t do this. Please let me go…” He pushed passed her and stormed out the building.