Disclaimer: JK Rowling's characters.

Aftermath

The Great Hall, Hogwarts, June 1997 (06) ...6:12 a.m.

Perched at the rim of the castle's ruined entrance, Mandy Brocklehurst stared at the smoking rubble of Ravenclaw Tower, her home away from home for the past six years. Dawn was breaking in the east; Mandy thought it a shame. The night's waning cloak of violet should have dissolved into exhilarating streaks of grays, pinks, blues, and gold for Hogwart's warriors, her victors. Instead, evil-looking clouds barreled in from the south, dragging an undulating skirt of rain. Within moments the torrent heaved over the grounds, lashing the dead that still lay like broken puppets within the courtyard.

A streak of lightning lit up the Great Hall as a healer ran his wand up and down Harry's body. At the same time a mediwitch, gripping a pair of dull-nosed shears near Harry's neck, readied to cut his Quidditch kit off him.

"Come within a whisper of his skin with those things, and I will destroy you," Snape told her. His voice was ruined, as if he had just finished announcing a week-long Quidditch match, but the chill matter-of-factness of his words was unmistakable.

She paused, a dour-looking woman with deep-set lines around her eyes and mouth. She recognized Snape from pictures and articles in the Prophet from the late seventies, early eighties. Ex-Death Eater, indeed. He shouldn't be anywhere near Harry Potter, in her esteemed opinion (which no one who knew her dared solicit because her opinions rained like tears in Hell). She threw him a hateful look. Lucky for her Snape's eyes were on Harry, intensely monitoring the boy's face for the slightest sign of discomfort or consciousness.

"Carry on, Matilda," Galen said. The infuriating, yet highly competent mediwitch thinned her lips and returned to her task; Galen went to Snape. "Severus, you're in no fit state to be here, and frankly, you're in the way. Go. Let us do our job. You know we'll do our very best for Harry." He glanced at Snape's hands. "You really need to let Poppy take care of those."

"I want to be here when he opens his eyes."

"Of course, but that might not happen for a while and in the meantime, we're going to be doing some rather...unpleasant things to him."

"I've seen worse."

After an awkward silence, Galen said, "Perhaps, but none of those people was your son."

Snape tensed. His eyes narrowed to slits when a healer lifted each of Harry's eyelids before aiming the lighted end of her wand into his eyes, swinging it back and forth, then up and down. From where he stood Snape could see that Harry's pupils dominated, eclipsing the green of his iris, and they had no reaction to the light. God. That was a bad sign.

The mediwitch, having cut through Harry's jersey (while holding the metal high and away from Harry's flesh) began drawing the shears down his trousers, slitting them open from hip to calf to expose the mangled mess that was his left leg. The sight of Harry lying there, helpless and as close to death as Snape had ever seen him, poisoned any medically reasoned argument Galen might have tried to get Snape to leave the boy. No, he would be there until Harry woke, or until Harry breathed his last breath. "Anything you do to him, I will be here," he said. "Don't ask again."

Snape had a placid, rational vibe about him, but Galen knew it was an act, and should Harry take a turn for the worst... Aurors and other Ministry officials were still crawling around the castle so there was little chance of him harming anyone; but Galen left nothing to chance. When dealing with distraught parents he preferred to err on the side of caution. People lost their heads when it came to loved ones. Splitting his time between King's College Hospital in Muggle London and St. Mungo's, he saw such behavior often enough.

Galen lived to heal, but he hated this part of his work-the uncertainty of how a case would turn out, particularly one as devastating and as complicated as Harry's. He abhorred dashing parents' hopes, but he knew that no matter the evil Snape had seen and done while a Death Eater, it would prove poor preparation for losing his child should Harry die. Galen sighed. "You may stay, Severus, but you musn't interfere. The moment you do, I will put you out on your arse-former Death Eater or not." He muttered that last bit, but everyone heard it.

"Healer Brady!" The shears-wielding mediwitch snarled. Since there was obviously nothing to be done about Snape, she shot disdainful looks at Harry's other visitors.

Galen looked at Draco, Ron, and Hermione wrapped around one another. They all needed looking after, but he knew that like Snape they wouldn't want to leave Harry. They stood in the corner behind Snape, floating forward when room allowed, then shuffling out the way of the medicos when necessary.

"I can't work with all of these people standing around. Things are tight enough as it is," the mediwitch said.

"Yes, yes, Matilda! Your discontent has been bloody well noted!" Galen snapped. He hated to admit it, especially as she was such a crotchety old cow, but she was right. Despite the extra space he had configured to accommodate them all, it was still far too compact. "Some of you must leave." He held up a hand when the teens started to argue. "It doesn't matter who, but you can't all be here. We need room to work."

"I'm not leaving," said Draco, sticking out his pointed chin.

"Neither am I," said Hermione from within the circle of Ron's arms.

"Same for me," said Ron, his voice hoarse, eyes red and watery.

Galen turned to Snape. "Severus..."

Snape clenched his jaw. He looked over his shoulder at Draco. "No! Why do I -"

"Draco, please. For me... For Harry -" Snape's voice broke. Damn it, he was barely hanging on.

Draco gripped the man's wrist. "Merlin, I - ...All right, fine, just - Severus..." He shot an evil look at the complaining mediwitch. "Whinging sow! What would you do if we were blocked up in a tunnel or something? You'd work it out then, wouldn't you? Precisely what do they teach you at mediwitch school? How to be cold-hearted bitches?" The mediwitch ignored him, busy coaxing the remains of Harry's Quidditch uniform from under him. Irritated, Draco said, "Weasley, Granger, come on."

"But -"

"Hermione," Ron said. "We'll see him in a bit, once they've got him all cleaned up, yeah?" She looked up at him and he nodded, forcing a profoundly ersatz smile to his lips. She leaned into him and he led her out. The instant they were outside, she began sobbing loudly. Draco said, "Severus, don't make me leave. I have as much right to be here as anyone. What if he -"

"What if he what?"

"What if he doesn't -"

Snape fixed Draco with a hard look. "Don't. Don't you dare. Don't you ever -"

"I didn't mean -"

"Yes you did."

"No! I -"

"Go, Draco. Now."

"No! Damn it! You don't have to do this by yourself."

"Yes, I do! However long it takes."

Draco grabbed Snape's arm. "Then let me wait with you. I want to be here when he wakes up. I'm part of this family, too!"

Snape winced. He turned to take Draco's face in his hands. Drawing the boy forward, he pressed his lips to the crown of Draco's head. Somewhere beneath the salty stink of sweat and grime, beneath the fear and anger, Snape smelled something sharp and clean, like fresh water and lemon: Draco. Snape's eyes watered.

"Yes, you are," he whispered as Draco linked his arms around him. "But, please, until they get Harry settled, please, please, please wait outside. As soon as they finish, you can come back. I dare say you need to be abed yourself. Look at you, you're far too pale and likely shocky -"

"Yes, yes, Healer Snape," Draco muttered into the man's chest. He turned his head to rest his left cheek over Snape's heart. He looked at Harry. A mediwitch-the whinging bitch in a wimple-was sponging at a puncture in Harry's left thigh that kept pumping out blood and Harry lay there, unmoving, unfeeling-completely oblivious. Draco frowned. Merlin! Was that a bit of bone sticking out? He moaned and turned his head away. Snape held him tighter and pressed his lips to Draco's head again.

"Go," he said softly, his stomach clenching at what he knew Draco had seen. The young Slytherin hadn't the strength to argue and Ron had pulled the curtain aside, searching for him. Their eyes met and Ron held out his hand. Draco gave Snape a squeeze before letting go, then he limped toward Ron and took his hand.

*WO

The Great Hall, Hogwarts, June 1997 (06) ...6:47 a.m.

The acrid funk of potions and blood and magic clogged Harry's senses, but none of it compared to the pain ruthlessly invading every cell of his body, blistering and flaring like a ruptured hot spot on the sun.

Am I dead? Is this what death feels like?

If so, then all the rot he'd heard about a white light and dead loved ones welcoming him with open arms was utter crap, and if not, then, sod it all, why didn't someone put him out of his misery? To test his aliveness, he tried to catch a breath. Big mistake. It hurt like hell-but it did prove he was alive, and ironically, to continue being alive his body required oxygen, so he tried inhaling the tiniest bit of air by gasping, but even that puny intake was a torment and his body began to shake uncontrollably. He tried to stop it, tried to calm himself because it hurt, damn it, it hurt!

Mercifully, within seconds, a blankness fell over him. Harry thought that was all right because there was no pain in the blankness, but then the blankness cleared and the pain came back, the tremors along with it. The blankness fell again and then again, but each time the fire in his bones battled back, hurting worse. Finally, a more complete blankness hit. Everything began to rush away in a soothing wash, the way nightmares faded upon waking, but his body still rallied, wanting air. But this time he ignored it, emptied his mind, preferring the rushing away sensation. Ah! That was the answer. Stop fighting the pain, let it go. He could do that. He could let go.

"Galen, his breathing... It's getting tackier, it..."

"What's happening?"

"Severus, step back! Make room for us to work!"

"Tell me what's happening!"

"Check his chest for blockage..."

"Not his chest, his brain is swelling!"

"Galen, he's fading..."

"No..."

"There's no pulse..."

"His neck, Jonesy... The wrist is no good. I think..."

"...Harry..."

"He's - Damn it!"

"Harry!"

"He's stopped breathing!"

"NO!"

*WO

The Great Hall, Hogwarts, June 1997 (06) ...7:01 a.m.

The Great Hall was gone. The sounds, people screaming, sobbing, moaning-and the pain-ceased to exist because now Harry was somewhere else, somewhere calm and soothingly familiar. He looked around. He was in a room that appeared blurred, as if unfinished, but in the distance, he saw something moving toward him, two shapes. They quickly ventured close, closer until he was able to make out a black-haired man wearing wire-rimmed glasses. Alongside him was a red-haired woman with green eyes-Harry's eyes. The man and woman were smiling at him. Harry grinned back. They floated closer until finally they were a breath away from him. He reached out.

I know you.

Harry...

His body tingled when they wrapped their arms around him, ran their fingers through his hair and stroked his face and kissed him. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Harry laughed. The red-haired woman's full lips curved up in a smile as she kissed him. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Harry touched her mouth.

You're so pretty.

She laughed. The raucous tinkle transported Harry to that small cottage in Godric's Hollow, to that room with walls pasted over with flying golden Snitches. Familiar. Family.

I want to stay here with you. He suddenly decided.

The man took Harry into his arms. No, darling. You can't.

Why? Harry looked up into the face that mirrored his own so closely one would think that James, not Lily, had given birth to him.

It's not time, the man said. Not yet.

But -

So beautiful, the woman said. Look at you. Love. Love you. We love you.

Then why can't I stay?

Severus needs you.

No! He'll be fine.

He loves you so.

I know. I love him, too, b-but I want to stay with you.

Still smiling, the woman and the man kissed him once more before they let him go.

W-Where are you g-going?

Go home to Severus, Harry.

They began to move away as though they were being pulled from him. Or he from them.

Wait! Why are you leaving? No. P-P-Please! Something's wrong... Don't go!

Harry grabbed at his chest; it hurt. His ribs... His heart...

D-Don't... leave... me!

They were moving faster now, so fast he could no longer make them out. The moment they faded he felt a sharp throb, like a rending. God, his chest was really hurting! Then he was falling, falling back into that nightmarish miasma of racket and pain he had left only moments before.

His chest. Something was pressing on it, rhythmically and someone was chanting: One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, four-one thousand, breathe! A red shock singed his splintered bones, snapping him back to consciousness for a second time. His body, fighting his mind-which wanted to be still, to stop hurting-ignored him, desperate for the breath he couldn't manage earlier.

"Stop the compressions, Galen! He's breathing! He's back!"

That breath should have felt like the kiss of life, instead it burned, making Harry wish for death. He screamed, even though it tore up his throat and made him feel as if his body was being run through a wood chipper.

"Harry! Harry! Oh, my god!" Hermione, followed by Ron and Draco, ripped the curtain aside and charged into the space.

Harry went on the screaming. The pain, circular and vicious, fed off of itself. Then his body went rigid, teeth grinding against one another as he began making an incoherent buzzing sound.

"What's wrong? What's wrong with him?" Snape demanded.

"Seizure..." Galen muttered. "Damn it!" Harry began to shake, the bed vibrating beneath the force of his body.

"Oh, my god!" Hermione screamed and rushed forward.

"No! You mustn't touch him!" A mediwizard grabbed her, his grip pinching her arm. She cried out and kicked him in the shin.

"Get your hands off of her!" Ron growled, slapping the mediwizard's hand from around Hermione's arm; he shoved the startled man back.

"Severus, why won't it stop?" Draco whispered. He turned on Galen. "Why don't you do something? You're the healer! What fucking good are you standing there letting him suffer like that?!"

Galen watched Harry, ready to intervene if he stopped breathing, again. "There's nothing I can do. He just has to... go through it."

"This is unbearable, fucking unbearable!" Ron groaned, tears running down his cheeks, his arms around a frantic Hermione. Draco agreed. He was about to unload on Galen again when Harry stilled. His eyes flew open and rolled to the left to connect with Snape's.

Daddy...

Snape jerked as his mind was invaded. "Harry?"

Another fiery lance of pain shot through Harry's body. This time he simply exhaled a truncated breath as his brain shut off.

*WO

The Great Hall, Hogwarts, June 1997 (06) ...3:07 p.m. (Entry from Snape's diary)

Harry's sleeping. That's what Galen tells me, but he's truly in a sort of coma-something Galen suggested until the specialist arrived. Shacklebolt had to arrange a special Portkey to get him here then he and Galen began working on Harry a little after 7:00 a.m. He agreed with Galen that Harry should remain asleep. They finished at 10:30, or so. He is hooked up to a machine that is breathing for him-life support, a Muggle contraption. At the specialist's suggestion, they put a halo on my son's head, one of those metallic things, another Muggle contraption. Not that I'm complaining, they're keeping him still and alive, it's just, he looks like Frankenstein's monster with all this...stuff attached to him. And with all of his hair gone he looks so frighteningly small.

I want so desperately to talk to him again. I want to hear his voice, even if it's just in my head. I've tried insinuating myself into his mind as he did when he called for me, but all I encounter is a dark nothingness, an unending chasm. Where is he? "Daddy", he cried. God, it was horrible, but I don't know what was worse: Having him call for me or the relief I felt that he had. Galen had said that after such trauma to his head, Harry might not recognize me. Daddy... What pain must he have been in, how terribly it must have hurt for him to call me that, and he sounded so young. He sounded as I imagine he must have sounded to James Potter when Harry was a toddler. God, I can't think about that.

Muggles believe people in comas can still hear, can understand, but it seems Harry can't. Always the exception, my son. But does that mean his brain is dead? That it will never heal? I don't believe that. I won't believe it. Galen would tell me if Harry had no chance of surviving. Yet I can't help the niggling thought that he's irreparably damaged. He would respond to me otherwise. I know he would.

Poppy finally managed to dose Draco with a Calming Draught. After hours of him refusing it, I had her spike his tea. The little fool, he was so distraught and exhausted that he fell asleep immediately. I was glad of it. It allowed Poppy to tend his wounds, which were worse than we knew. Draco tried to protect young Mr. Weasley, Ron, when one of the Adar Llwch Gwin's talons clipped him as it was going for one the werewolves. He'll have a scar on his shoulder unless he requests its removal. He's in a sling now and he'll be working with a therapist from St. Mungo's to ensure he regains full mobility, but he's never complained. I admire him so. He's made such strides since last summer.

Miss Granger lies a bed over, bracketed by her parents. After Harry's seizure they asked Galen to give her a Calming Draught as well. We're all overtired and overstressed, but seeing Harry in the grip of something so horrid, she couldn't bear it. I sympathize utterly.

I went more than a little mad myself.

S~

*WO

The Great Hall, Hogwarts, June 1997 (08) ...7:42 p.m. (Entry from Snape's diary)

Harry sleeps, still, but he's making tiny movements with his lips, as if he's grimacing. It likely has more to do with the painful process of his bones healing than with him beginning to awaken. He'll suffer that pain over this next week, Galen believes, but he says Harry's reaction is a hopeful sign. I've tried talking to him, again, but there's still a relentless nothing when I probe his mind.

Draco loathes this waiting; he loathes sitting and watching; he loathes the staff swarming around Harry's bed, pricking him with strange instruments and dosing him with potion after potion after potion. His frustration is nothing to do with Harry, though. He wants Harry to wake up. He wants Harry whole. He wants someone to pick on, he says.

He keeps close to me. It's comforting, but sometimes he looks at me, as if he's trying to reconcile something. I've asked him to speak his mind, but he just shakes his head and leans against me. We've a small sofa here now in place of those ghastly hospital chairs. It provides a soft spot to stretch out. Sometimes Draco sits with me and sleeps in my arms, like a child. He has nightmares, calling out for Lucius, begging him not to kill Narcissa. Lucius. How could he?

For all my sins, how could I?

S~

*WO

The Great Hall, Hogwarts, June 1997 (13) ...11:38 a.m. (Entry from Snape's diary)

I've just finished bathing Harry. I never let the mediwitches near him save to administer his potions. On rare occasions, when Brady or Reddy aren't here, I've dressed the wounds on his wrists and ankles. They know I do it, but a couple of those irritating, fish-eyed ninnies from St. Mungo's still sneer at me and complain-as if I give a damn.

Harry's gotten thin despite the nutritional potions, and he's still black and blue everywhere, except his ears. I never noticed before, but they're perfect, his ears. Perfect little whorls of flesh settled just so on his head. God, I must be tired! Going on about my son's ears, really?

The Dark Lord is dead and the war is over, and yet it couldn't have come at a worse time. Harry and I were just getting past that revelation about the prophecy; we were just settling into being a family again. Sometimes I can't wrap my mind around how much things have changed between us. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters beyond him waking up and being whole.

Draco and Miss Granger attended Fred Weasley's funeral earlier this afternoon. The family held the service here because, it seems, half the wizarding world is still here in the castle or billeted in Hogsmeade and a few other nearby villages, but they will bury him on their land, the Burrow, Harry calls it. He'll be gutted to find out that boy is dead and that he missed the service.

I left it to Draco to give the family my condolences and my excuses. Imagine my shock when Molly and Arthur stopped by after the service. God, I don't know if I could have done the same if I had just come from one of my children's funerals, but they displayed an inordinate amount of concern for my well-being, considering. The pain they must be feeling having committed their son to the ground is utterly unimaginable.

Their boy's service is not the only one that has been performed these past few weeks: Seamus Finnigan, Parvati Patil, Michael Corner, Megan Jones, the Macmillan boy, little Creevey, Rolanda Hooch, Moody... And those are the ones I know of. There have likely been more services, their families choosing to have them elsewhere. Draco has attended the ones held here at the school; he hardly mentions them, but nor do Miss Granger or Mr. Weasley.

The hall slowly empties as people recover. Or die. Goddamn war. All those lives, gone. I would never say so in front of Draco, but I've told Papa that if Harry dies, I should want to die, too.

I wish it were me lying there. It should be me lying there.

S~

*WO

The Great Hall, Hogwarts, June 1997 (16) ...2:27 p.m.

"Severus?" Draco held out the tidy bundle he brought the man every day. Snape dragged his gaze from Harry long enough to take it.

"You're early."

"And you look a fright."

Snape hitched a brow. "Well... I thank you for the clothing and the rather...blunt observation. Having endured such criticism from a youthful age, it has luckily made me rather immune."

"You know what I meant..."

"Yes, you meant precisely what you said. Nevertheless, your honesty is appreciated."

"You do always tell Harry and me to speak our minds," Draco said, offering up a small, cheeky smile.

"Mm, silly me."

Draco nodded toward Harry. "Has he asked for me?" Snape's face relaxed a bit at the boy's question disguised as a joke, one he made every day.

"No. There's been no change."

"Stubborn Gryffindor." Draco stepped up to straighten a minor wrinkle in Harry's covers. "Hurry up and wake up, you attention hog." The eerie intermittent beeping of the life-support machine intruded as he gently stroked an imaginary bit of lint from Harry's cheek. Gray eyes followed the multi-colored spikes tracking and timing Harry's "breaths". For something that was keeping him alive, it looked and sounded strangely hollow and lifeless. Muggle magic. What could their machines do for Harry that magic could not? Draco looked over at Snape, unsurprised to find the man still there. "Go change. I'll sit and fawn over His Royal Highness while you're gone."

"In a minute."

"Somehow I knew you'd say that." Draco walked to the curtain. "Just remember, I'm doing this for your own good."

"What are you talking about?" Snape frowned.

With his eyes on Snape Draco pulled the curtain aside and said: "Professor?"

Snape stared at him as McGonagall swept into the space. "What is going on?" he asked when Auror Selby "Willie" Williamson appeared; Auror Brân Savage, clean-shaven, black curls tucked behind his ears, followed. Savage's lips tightened angrily when he got a good look at Snape.

"Severus, as headmistress, I have every right to look after my staff's well-being. I know you don't want to be away from Harry for even a second, but either you go with these two men, or I'll... I'll banish every stitch of clothing you have on."

Snape's mouth fell open. "You wouldn't dare -"

McGonagall marched past Snape to perch on the edge of the small sofa next to Harry's bed, usurping Snape's place of retreat; she crossed her ankles, drew her wand and raised it toward him, as if preparing to follow through on her threat. Snape balled his hands into fists.

"Severus," Draco said, then shrank back when Snape turned his furious eyes onto the boy.

"Don't you dare be angry with him!" McGonagall snapped. "He's worried about you! We all are!"

"I am not leaving! You can't make me!"

"When Harry fell ill earlier this year, Dumbledore would rather have died than pull his wand on you. But you know me, Severus, I have no such compunction. Continue to defy me and I'll have you starkers before you take your next breath!"

Snape stared at her, grappling for something cutting to say. He opened his mouth as if to say it, then his skin whitened alarmingly. "I -" he began, then tipped sideways, mouth slack, eyes blank. Savage caught him before he hit the floor.

*WO

The Great Hall, Hogwarts, June 1997 (17) ...12:07 p.m.

(Entry from Snape's diary) Eighteen hours. I slept eighteen hours, straight through. I'm still feeling a bit rough, but I'm back at Harry's side. Galen told me that Draco, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger split shifts to sit with him whilst I slept. Draco read one of Miss Granger's books to him. Supposedly he was trying to annoy Harry with his voice, but I think he -

Harry was choking. Something was lodged in his throat, killing him. Desperate to take in air his chest arched painfully as he inhaled.

"Harry?" Diary, quill, ink, and nerves scattered as Snape jumped up off the sofa. "POPPY! GALEN!"

Dad?

Harry! Oh god.

Harry tried to open his eyes, to see Snape-they didn't work; nor did his head when he tried to turn it toward the sound of Snape's voice-but then, Snape wasn't speaking out loud, was he? And neither was Harry.

Dad!

Yes, Harry, yes, what is it?

... Can't... breathe... Harry's hands flopped uselessly at his sides as he tried to raise them, tried to reach the log in his throat to pull it out.

Snape shouted: "Someone get this goddamned thing out of his throat before I spell it away!"

Something crashed to the floor as what sounded like a herd of hippogriffs stopped at the foot of Harry's bed.

"Severus, step aside!"

No! Don't leave!

I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, right here. I'm - Can you feel me? Snape stroked the back of his hand against Harry's cheek.

Yeah, s'kinda cold...

Sorry.

S'okay. Feels ni - Harry gagged. Wha - What's happening? What was that?

I -

"There, that should relieve it a bit..."

Harry, is that better?

...A little... That's Galen, isn't it?

Yes.

Did you know he was Papa's grandson?

Yes, I did. Oh, Harry, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice!

Then why do you sound so sad?

I'm not, not at all. I'm so pleased that you're awake and talking.

Well, not exactly talking...

Snape chuckled, earning some curious stares. No, not exactly, but this is even better.

...Because it's just you and me?

Yes, yes, yes.

"Careful of the halo, Galen."

Who's that?

Ganesh Reddy, a healer. He came all the way from India for you.

Oh... That was decent of him.

Yes. I must say, I've given him a rather difficult time.

Oh?

I've been so frightened...

But I -

"Harry, old man, on three, I need you to breathe out for me, all right? One... two... three!" The thing in his throat slid out easily enough, but Harry couldn't manage a true breath out; it was more of a gag, which made him cough. "Excellent, Harry! Oh, very good," Reddy praised, "but do try not to move your head."

Harry frowned and coughed. Oh, now I see why you might have given him a hard time. Try not to move my head as I cough?

Harry...

Dad, I can't open my eyes.

There's spellotape over them.

Oh... Can you take it off, please?

Of course.

"Severus, what do think you're doing?" said Pomfrey.

"I'm taking this tape off his eyes."

"Not until I say so, you're not!"

"Heyyy, Ma'am... Pomfrey," Harry whispered, his voice sounding foreign to him after all this time.

"Oh! Bless him! Would you listen to that," trilled Madam Pomfrey. Harry had never heard the nurse sound so joyful.

"You mind? ‘Bout... the tape?" Harry's tongue felt horribly uncoordinated.

"Oh, you dear thing! Of course not! I'll just get it right off -"

"No, Poppy," Snape said, "let me."

"I - Oh. Oh, yes, Severus, of course."

Harry heard the crisp rustle of Pomfrey's wimple as she shifted out of the way. As Snape took her place, she cast a spell, dimming the immediate area around Harry's bed. She then drew the curtains, entombing the tiny group.

I'll try to be careful, Harry.

Where is everyone? Hermione? Ron? Draco?

Miss Granger is with her parents at the moment, but someone is alerting her that you've awakened. Draco and Mr. Weasley are here. They've just arrived.

Mr. Weasley?

Ron.

Oh.

Ready?

Mm hm.

Snape gingerly pinched the edge of the tape between his fingers. He took his time, not wanting to cause Harry the least bit of discomfort. He winced as the rose petal-thin skin of Harry's eyelids puckered as he peeled the tape back; he took special care when he reached Harry's eyelashes. Long, thick, and doe-like, Snape thought they were one of Harry's best features. Once the tape was off, Harry kept his eyes closed, adjusting to the initial burst of light that was likely dim to the others, but felt like a staring session with the sun to him. After a moment, he slowly cracked them open, squinting. Everything was headache-inducingly blurry.

"Glasses... please?" He croaked.

After Snape placed them on his face, Harry took a moment to let his eyes adapt to the lenses. He tried to bring his hand up to settle the wire-rimmed frames more comfortably on his nose, but his arm had all the strength of a cooked noodle.

"Feeling all right?" Galen asked. "Are you experiencing any burning, achiness, throbbing? Is it overly bright?"

"No, s' fine," Harry whispered.

Blinking, he slowly gained focus, taking in the faces around him. A rosy-cheeked Madam Pomfrey gazed at him, hands clasped to her bosom. She was smiling, pleased that he was awake, but her brown eyes, still bright and sharp were muted with grief; Draco's expression was flat, nondescript, but his hand resting lightly on Harry's foot told Harry all he needed to know about how the boy was feeling; Ron looked terribly drawn and lankier than ever, but his blue eyes sparkled with relief once Harry's eyes met his. Harry thought he had never seen Ron look sadder, but somehow knew it had nothing to do with him. Finally, he shifted his eyes to find Snape.

The man's dark eyes were blown with exhaustion, red-rimmed and glassy, but they brightened when they connected with Harry's; they grew concerned when the boy frowned.

C'mere. Harry said.

Snape looked at Harry, puzzled.

Please?

What is it? Is anything wrong?

No.

You tell me if anything feels wrong, Harry -

No, no, really, I just... Never seen you unshaven.

Not even when the man had been a patient in the hospital ward last June. Harry imagines Pomfrey must have cast a depilatory charm on him every day. Looking uncertain, Snape leaned down, putting his face close to Harry's.

Can't move my head to touch you...

Harry...

Never mind. It's stupid.

What is it you want?

I just wanted to feel it... Never mind.

Silly thing. Snape rubbed his stubble-darkened cheek against Harry's chin in a gentle caress. Harry uttered a raspy laugh and Snape pulled back, looking puzzled, again.

Scratchy.

Yes, well, give me a few more days and I'll look like Hagrid's long lost cousin.

Harry grinned, then someone cleared their throat.

"Are you two communicating telepathically?" Galen asked, looking back and forth between them.

"Sorry," Harry rasped.

"Wicked," said Ron.

"How much longer does he have to wear that thing?" Draco pointed at the halo.

"Oh, excellent question, Mr. Malfoy!" said Reddy, making a point to stand where Harry could see him with undue strain. "Well, now that you are awake, you tell us how you're feeling, Mr. Potter."

"Harry."

"Pardon?"

"Call me Harry," Harry said, surprised at Reddy's appearance. Judging from his voice, Harry would have assumed the man to be an elderly, short, rather fat guy. But Reddy, half English and half Indian, was tall, weedy, and probably only a few years older than Snape.

"Oh, excellent! You charming boy! ‘Call me Harry', he says!" Reddy straightened up and clapped his hands, his big black eyes, shiny and pleased. "Why you delightful thing, you!"

"Red," Galen said, trying not to smile. His old mentor never changed. "Can we move this along?"

"Oh, yes, of course, of course. I do tend to carry on, don't I? But it's truly fascinating stuff going on here. I've never seen anything like it. You can't burn that bright and not burn out. You're a powerful wizard, Harry. Your magic should be gone, yet it is aiding in your recovery, helping you heal. I can't imagine what it will be like once it comes back full strength. I say, had it been anyone else -" Reddy jumped when Galen cleared his throat. "Well, I reckon that's neither here nor there, however, I think being taken off the respirator is rather enough for today. Why don't we see about switching out the halo for a neck brace in a couple days, yes? There's no rush, is there? No need to have all the fun in one go, eh?"

"No, sir," said Harry. He really wanted the halo thing off his head, but he also didn't want to be on the ward longer than necessary. If he was healing as fast and as well as Reddy said, he definitely didn't want to risk a setback now by taking the thing off too soon.

"That doesn't mean I can't check you out though, see how things are progressing. You up for it?"

"Sure."

"There's a good chap!" Reddy beamed, then he clapped his hands and briskly rubbed them together for a moment. "Should warm the old mitts up a bit, eh? Right then, let's get started!" Reddy wrapped his fingers around Harry's throat, applying gentle pressure as he slowly rolled his fingertips up and down the back of Harry's neck, over bony protrusions that had been a swollen, inflamed mess weeks ago. "Feeling any discomfort, Harry?"

"No."

"Excellent... How about now?"

"No."

"Now?"

"Unh unh."

"Good," Reddy said; Harry yawned. "That exciting, am I?" Reddy grinned brightly.

Harry crooked his lips in a smile at the healer. "Jus' feelin' li'l foggy."

"Oh, well, that's fine," said Reddy as he moved away. "It's just your body reminding you that it's not up to snuff just yet."

Harry yawned again and his eyes drooped closed. "Dad... Don' wanna go sleep. Dad -" His fingers twitched weakly in his effort to reach out to the man.

"Shh, Harry. Rest," Snape said softly as he enveloped Harry's hand in his own. "I'll be here when you wake."

*WO

The Great Hall, Hogwarts, June 1997 (17) ...9:42 p.m.

Upon waking, Harry heard Madam Pomfrey murmuring to someone, but the hall was quiet beyond that. Someone was gently stroking his hand. He breathed in: cinnamon and cloves. He opened his eyes and rolled them to the left to find Snape. Harry wished he could turn his head. As it was, without his glasses, he could only (blurrily) see half of Snape's face. The buttery glow from the bedside torch softened the man's hawkish features.

"Would you like something to drink?" He asked Harry.

"Yes, please." Harry watched as Snape filled a glass with water then put a Muggle straw in it-the kind with the bendy neck. Snape brought the glass close to Harry and directed the straw to his mouth. Harry drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing the deserty rawness in his throat-until Snape pulled the straw away.

"Still... thirsty..."

"That's enough for now, I think."

"Dad..."

Snape sighed. "All right, but just a bit more, and you must take it slowly."

Harry tried to nod, but the halo prevented it-blasted thing. He took another draught, but all too soon, Snape pulled the straw away and set it on the bedside table.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

Harry swallowed before asking, his words slow and deliberate. "Lie down... with me?"

Snape frowned. "Absolutely not. Galen and Poppy will need to check you over now that you're awake, and -"

"They can, l-later..." When Snape said nothing, nor moved to join him, Harry managed a tiny, tired smile and said: ...Won't tell if you won't.

Against his better judgment Snape did as Harry asked. He rose then eased a hip on to the right side of the bed. He took his time, slowly pivoting to bring his legs up onto the bed to stretch out next to Harry. He took great pains not to jostle the boy too much, but Harry's sharp intake of breath let him know it was nearly impossible to move without doing so. Snape kept going though, knowing Harry would not be satisfied until Snape was on the bed with him. After several moments of the man getting settled, Harry welcomed the soft, humid puffs of Snape's breath on his cheek.

Who all died?

Oh, Harry...

Hermione wouldn't tell me, and I just... I -

Hush. Snape smoothed a hand over Harry's chest. There's no need to talk about that this very second.

It's kinda good we're talking like this. I can't hear anything in my left ear.

Pettigrew.

From him kicking me?

Yes.

Will I ever hear out of it again?

No. Snape pressed a whispery kiss to Harry's cheek.

Is he in Azkaban?

No. I took care of him.

...Oh. He thought I was my father. He'd gone mad, hadn't he?

Yes.

Where is everyone?

Everyone? I can't possibly account for everyone...

You know what I mean. Hermione, Ron, Draco.

Ah, yes, the usual suspects. Well, as it is late at night, I imagine your Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley are asleep. Draco is in the bed to the right of you.

Is he taking care?

Mr. Zabini has been quite a comfort to him.

Blaise?

Mm. He had dinner with Mr. Zabini, his mother, and a few other Slytherins last night.

Ron all right with that?

Why wouldn't he be?

Oh, er, he likes Draco. As more than a friend, I think.

Oh.

You think that's weird?

No.

So, you'd be okay with it?

Yes, Harry.

Oh... How's everyone else? Dean, Neville, Theo?

Mr. Thomas has spent nearly every free moment with Miss Weasley and her family. He stopped by a few hours ago as did Mr. Longbottom, but you were asleep. Mr. Nott reunited with his father the night of the battle and is now in Germany to collect Mrs. Nott and her mother. They plan to return for Dumbledore's funeral.

Dumbledore...dead. And Seamus and Parvati and Madam Hooch and Dennis a-and -

Enough. You've gone and got yourself all worked up... Snape stroked Harry's tears away.

But they all -

Hush, hush, hush. Go to sleep.

They lay quietly. Snape thought Harry had gone to sleep. He had begun to doze himself when Harry's voice in his head woke him.

Dad?

Yes, Harry.

Draco said... My hair...

Poppy had to shear it off. Your skull was fractured...from the fall -

Now who's gone and got himself all worked up?

It was just dreadful to see -

Don't. I'm all right-head feels funny, though. Do I look funny?

No.

Really?

Really. Does it upset you?

Not really. I mean, it'll grow back. It did when Aunt Petunia cut it.

She used to cut your hair?

Yeah, never wanted to waste money at a barber. Once, when I was eight, she cut it really short, made me go to school looking like an idiot. She got mad when I got home ‘cuz it had grown back, so she cut it again, except that time she cut it all off. She made an awful mess of it.

Made a mess of it, did she? Why that foul, loathsome -

Getting worked up again.

I just can't believe -

Dad, s'all right. Harry yawned.

Of course you'd say that. I'll never forget the way she -

No, what Pomfrey did.

Oh.

Needed a-a haircut a-an - Harry yawned again.

Hush now and go to sleep. I mean it this time.

Stay with me?

I'm not going anywhere.

Don' have... be so... grumpy.

Cheeky creature.

...luh me... en ee way...

"Yes, I do."

*WO