Hospital Wing, Hogwarts, June 1996 (27)
Harry entered the hospital wing after stopping by the kitchens for a late lunch. He couldn't help but gape at the sight of Snape sitting up in bed, clean dark hair swinging lightly as he read. Paracelsus: Rejecting Agrippa and Flamel was propped up on a cushion on his lap, the pages turning magically at Snape's prompting. The man had been near death yesterday, and now he was sitting up, looking quite like his old self save the fading bruises and too thin (even for Snape) appearance.
"Having difficulty adding two and two?" Snape sneered, not even looking up from his book.
Harry blinked. Snape even sounded like his old self: stinging, snarky, irritatingly sarcastic. Harry almost smiled, but settled for an annoyed smirk instead.
"Not since I was five," he replied, coming forward to sit down.
"Ah, that explains it," Snape drawled, dark eyes following the arc of another page turning.
"What?"
"Your abominable ability to measure your potions ingredients precisely."
"Er, what does one thing have to do with the other?"
"Most magical children are able to add, subtract, multiply and divide by age three..." Another page turns.
"Well, I guess not growing up in a wizarding house has its disadvantages," Harry retorted, truly annoyed now and doubting Snape's assertion having befriended Ron, Neville and Hermione.
"My, my, do I detect a note of irritation?"
"No, annoyance."
The big book slammed closed with a wave of Snape's hand. He growled, exasperated. "Potter, why are you here?"
"I just wanted to check that you're okay!" Harry fired back.
"I don't need a nursemaid, Potter!" Snape spat. "Having Poppy clucking about is all the caretaking I can stomach. You need not pop in here every waking moment, as I am fine!"
"Fine!" Harrry shouted. He leapt out of the chair, overturning it in the process, and proceeded to stomp out of the ward. As luck would have it, his shoelace caught on the chair's leg and he fell spectactularly, clubbig his chin on the hard edge of the neighboring bed's frame. Blood jetted from his chin, soiling the bed coverings and floor.
"Damn it!" Eyes watering, Harry rolled onto his back, hand cupped over his chin. As he lay moaning, imagining that half the flesh on his chin was hanging loose, he heard muted, sardonic applause coming from Snape's direction. Astonished, Harry looked up at him.
"How very entertaining, Potter. Drama, action, comedy all rolled into one dazzling performance. Will there be an encore?"
From Harry's position on the floor he perceived more than a hint of mirth in the man's eyes: those same eyes which had, less than three weeks ago, been rife with fear for Harry; those same eyes that Harry now wanted to leisurely poke out for laughing at him.
"Mr. Potter!"
Pomfrey. Harry closed his eyes and groaned. Her sharp tone promised that whatever he said would not be met with much compassion as she had specifically instructed him not to disturb Snape during his visits if Snape was resting. Feeling a small measure of relief that that wasn't the case this time, he opened his eyes, then gaped at the sight of Snape - feigning sleep!
Instantly, Harry wanted to ‘tell' on the man to Madam Pomfrey, who was now checking Snape's pulse; tell her that the sly Slytherin had been awake, eyes open, mouth spouting insults, only seconds ago! But, his chin was still gushing blood and painful to the touch.
"Come, Potter," Pomfrey said, after satisfying herself that Snape was all right. "Let's have a look at that chin."
Harry struggled to his feet to follow the irritated school nurse to her office. Then, feeling as though he was being watched, he glanced back at Snape and was galled by the smug smirk on the very much awake man's face.
*WO
Madam Pomfrey took mere seconds to mend Harry's chin, then shooed him out of the ward. Not bothering to spare a glance for his Potions professor, Harry bolted from the castle, running until he reached Hagrid's hut.
His knock on the door prompted Fang's booming barks and Hagrid's half-hearted admonitions for silence.
"Was abou' ter ‘ave a cuppa," Hagrid said, closing the door after Harry passed through. "Yeh bin ter see Professor Snape?"
"Yeah," Harry grumbled, sitting down at the scrubbed wood table.
"I ain't seen him meself today. He's good, eh?" Hagrid removed the whistling tea kettle from the fire, setting it on the table, alongside two bowl-sized cups.
"Oh he's back to his old self, all right," Harry said. Looking around, his dour mood turned curious as he noticed an enormous patched rucksack sitting atop Hagrid's bed. "Going somewhere?"
"Oh, I got a special mission fer the Order," Hagrid said proudly as he poured out the tea.
"Doin' what?" Harry busily clasped his tea cup with both hands so as to politely ignore the rock cakes Hagrid had set out.
Settling into his seat at the table, Hagrid said, "Well, I can' tell yeh tha', but it's importan' work, very importan' work."
Harry thought over the conversations he and Hagrid had shared over the past few weeks.
"It wouldn't have anything to do with those giant birds, would it?" At that, Hagrid started to look a bit shifty.
"It's importan' work an' tha's all I'm boun' ter tell yeh!" Hagrid picked up one of the rock cakes to take a huge, boisterous bite out of it. To hide his smirk, Harry took a sip of tea. Hagrid was so easy to read it was almost criminal.
"Fang going with you?" Harry looked down at the sleeping dog, whose large forepaw was currently resting on Harry's trainer. Hagrid shifted nervously.
"Well, here's the thing... I was hopin' yeh wouldn' mind lookin' after ‘im, since yeh'll be stayin' here, an' all, an' yeh two get on so well. I stopped by the hospital wing ter ask yeh yeste'day, but Galen said yeh'd gone ter the Tow'r to res' after wha' happened wi' Professor Snape - I didn' wan' ter bother yeh..."
Harry was deeply honored that Hagrid would trust him to look after the boarhound and equally as grateful that it was Fang and not a Blast-Ended Skrewt or the like requiring his attention. The half-giant visibly relaxed when Harry grinned.
"I don't mind at all," Harry said. Fang's tail gave a loud thump against the floor. "When are you leaving?"
"In the mornin', early."
Harry sprayed his sip of tea all over the table. "That soon?"
"Aye. It's dark and tricky business, but it's nuthin' I can' handle," Hagrid said, noting Harry's worried look.
He tossed his unfinished rock cake to Fang, who stood to quickly snuff it up, squishing Harry's foot in the process. For the next hour, they sat drinking tea and talking companionably. Harry told Hagrid about his and Snape's argument. Hagrid waved his massive hand dismissively.
"Ah, Harry, don' lis'en ter half o' wha' Professor Snape has ter say. It's mos'ly jus' fer show, though I know he's bin a bi' rough on yeh sometimes." Harry snorted with derision. "All righ', a lot," Hagrid amended, "but you gotta know tha' he's bin lookin' ou' fer yeh all them years an' not on'y ‘cause it's his job as a member o' the Order."
Harry rolled his eyes. What other reason would Snape have for ‘looking out' for him besides being ordered to do so by Dumbledore? Not wanting to argue the finer points of Snape's intentions, Harry held his tongue. He glanced out the small window next to the front door. Dusk was falling.
Hagrid followed his gaze. "Yeh bes' be gettin' back, eh?"
"Yeah, I s'pose." Harry sighed. He had been enjoying this time with Hagrid and didn't want to leave, knowing it would be the last he'd see of him for a while. But, he also knew he should not be outside the castle at dark.
"Me and Fang'll walk with yeh," Hagrid said, rising.
Fang scrabbled to his feet and trotted to the door. He pawed at it and whined until Hagrid pulled it open, then shot down the steps and out onto the grounds. He seemed to have spotted something small scuttling through the grass. Harry watched him bark and pounce after whatever it was.
Halfway across the grounds, Harry stopped, physically feeling the day's warmth slipping away as the sun sank below the horizon. He turned to watch it surrender its fading light to the bluish dark of night. He shivered. Normally he loved sunsets, but this one left him feeling strangely hollow and overcome with concern for his huge friend. Not even Fang's puppy-like antics relieved the unsettling feeling. He startled when Hagrid called to him, then ran to catch up.
"Well, Harry, yeh take care," Hagrid said once they reached the castle's steps.
"I will, Hagrid. You, too, okay?" Harry said, unable to mask the worry in his voice. "See you in a few weeks?"
Hagrid chuckled and pulled Harry to him in a gentle hug. "Yeh'll see me Harry, promise. I'll be here when term b'gins."
Harry nodded. He gave Fang a final scratch and raised his hand at Hagrid as he turned to go inside the castle.
*WO
Hospital Wing, Hogwarts, June 1996 (28)
Snape was napping when Harry entered the hospital wing the next afternoon, so he took the opportunity to quietly curl up in the chair next to the man's bed. He leaned back, closing his eyes, wanting only to rest for a moment, exhausted for having stayed up all night worrying about Hagrid.
Sleeping curled up in the chair next to Snape's bed was nothing new. During the weeks that Snape was ‘asleep', Harry had often fallen victim to the comfy contours of the charmed seat while reading to the man after dinner. He eventually came to realize that reading at such a late hour on a stomach full of Hogwarts' rich fare was hardly a good idea, but, it was during those times that he had often dreaded going back to Gryffindor Tower. The Tower was lively and fun when full of students, but rambling about that great space alone was nothing he looked forward to.
In the ward he wasn't alone, and being lulled by Snape's soft, even breathing had become familiar. When they chanced upon him, Madam Pomfrey or Galen would sometimes wake him and send him off to the Tower; other times they would leave him alone to sleep. As tired as he was, he hoped this would be one of those times.
Nearly an hour into his slumber Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He twisted around to find Dumbledore blinking down at him, his half-moon spectacles perched precariously on his long, crooked nose.
Harry covered a huge yawn before saying, "Professor."
"Harry, a word, out in the corridor, please?"
Harry stood and followed Dumbledore out of the ward.
"I have received a letter from Miss Granger."
"Oh." Harry began to fidget.
"She expresses great anxiety as she has not heard from you all these weeks."
"I haven't really had the time, sitting with Professor Snape, and taking care of Fang..." Harry said, knowing his argument was as sturdy as a house of Self-Shuffling Playing Cards.
Dumbledore pierced him with a look. "While what you have done for Professor Snape is commendable, Harry, I find it difficult to believe that you are that hard pressed to write even a short note to your friends."
When Harry said nothing in response, Dumbledore continued, "Miss Granger blames your lack of communication on your desire to avoid discussing the events in the Department of Mysteries and what occurred in Surrey. Is she right?"
Harry frowned. Of course she was right; Hermione knew Harry like the back of her hand. Reading Harry's expression, Dumbledore said, "Would it not be helpful to talk about it with those who have your confidence, who have an understanding of what you have experienced?"
Harry clenched his jaw, finding the question rather inane, considering its source. "That's just it... They don't understand, at least, not in the way I need them to... Ron and Hermione have their parents, so they couldn't possibly understand what I've experienced - twice!"
Harry couldn't help thinking of Hermione's letter and her dismissive attitude toward her parents' care: ‘I understand how scared she and my dad were, but it's getting a bit ridiculous, to be honest.' No, she and Ron would never understand unless - Merlin forbid - it happened to them. He desperately hoped they would never understand; he desperately hoped they all made it through the coming war with their families whole and as unaffected as possible.
After allowing Harry a moment to calm down, Dumbledore nodded. "You are right, of course, but I ask that you reconsider responding to their letters. Harry, they may not know from personal experience the losses you have suffered, but they were by your side at the Ministry; they know how much you cared for Sirius." He paused. "They want only to be there for you."
Harry sighed, picturing his friends. Where Ron would exhibit a stoic concern, Hermione would be rattled, half out of her mind with worry. She would be either reading a mountain of bestselling Muggle books on the emotional pitfalls of avoiding grief, or determinedly pacing the floor as she over-analyzed and perhaps over-dramatized his mental state for having already read those books.
"I'll think it about it, sir," Harry said.
*WO
Ruminating over the conversation with Dumbledore, Harry reentered, oblivious to the fact that Snape was awake. Though he had kept his eyes closed, the man had awakened when Dumbledore asked Harry out into the corridor. As Harry settled into his chair, Snape eyed him curiously.
"Break your broom?"
"What?" Harry looked up, confused.
"You appear to be... upset."
Harry shook his head. "It's nothin'." Snape hitched an eyebrow. Harry muttered, "Dumbledore..."
Snape lifted his chin slightly. "I'd have imagined that being teacher's pet whilst having the teacher all to yourself would make for a grand time."
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, dismissing Snape's nasty tone. Resting his cheek against his fist, he stared at a thin shaft of sunlight rebounding off the stone floor at his feet, trying to consider what he would write in a letter to Ron and Hermione. Now that Snape was on the mend, perhaps he could share that as relatively good news. Ron would scoff, thinking it unfortunate Voldemort had failed rid the student body of the hated teacher, but Hermione would probably be relieved. Of the three of them, she had been the most apt to believe that Snape had truly been acting as a spy, as well as helping Harry.
"Say what is on your mind, Potter, or leave me in peace. It's rather distracting having you sitting there looking as if someone has just strangled your owl."
Harry sighed. "Dumbledore got a letter from Hermione. She's worried ‘cause I haven't written her or Ron since I've been here."
"Oh? Trouble in paradise?"
"I just - I don't want to talk about what went on at the Ministry, or with the Dursleys, or... you."
At an early age, Harry had learned to be tight-lipped when it came to his feelings. When he ever dared voice his displeasure after being assaulted by Dudley to his aunt or uncle, he quickly grasped that silence was a far wiser course of action as it helped to avoid being constantly, and unceremoniously, chucked into his cupboard. He had become more emboldened since discovering he was a wizard, but old habits, like Devil's Snare, maintained an insidious grip.
Snape snorted derisively. "For days you subjected me to the wretched sound of your voice, reading, and mangling, I might add, the majority of the content of many of my favorite books, yet you can't manage to scratch out a sentence or two to let your friends know that you're all right?"
Harry shifted, uncomfortable. He was being chastised by Snape for being inconsiderate?
Snape continued. "While you've always been irrationally self-centered -"
"You got a lot of nerve! I'm not being self-centered!"
"Okay, ‘self-centered' is offensive, but irrational is still on the table, yes?"
Harry jumped to his feet, incensed. "I don't know why I come here!"
"That makes two of us!" Snape narrowed his eyes maliciously.
"Harry." It was Galen, looking back and forth between the two dark haired wizards. "I'm glad you're here. It's time we get the professor on his feet. Maybe get you to take a couple steps away from the bed?" Galen said, directing his last words to Snape.
The matching looks of horror on Harry's and Snape's faces, made the healer chuckle, though he masked it with a cough. Then in a serious tone, he said, "Professor, we must get you up and moving. You've been abed for quite some time and this is just the next step to help speed your recovery along."
Galen was right, of course, but when Harry saw Snape's expression flatten with understanding, he empathized. Harry recognized that having to depend on others would take as much of a toll on the man as would the general recovery. He then fixed his own face to reflect a tight resolve, determining that it wouldn't kill him to help out. The sooner Snape was able to look after himself, the better for all involved. Harry nodded at Galen.
The healer clapped his hands together, beaming. "Wonderful! Now, Harry if you could get on his right side, while I take the left."
Harry got into position next to the nightstand. Galen then assisted a thin-lipped Snape in swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
"Now, Professor, Harry and I will - Harry, just put your arm around his waist, Professor put your arm around Harry's shoulder - and we'll gently lift..."
Harry, his eyes on Snape's long, pale feet, eyed them steadily, wanting to ensure that the man was steady and not overcome by vertigo.
"Hold it, Harry," said Galen. "Let's give the Professor a moment to get his bearings."
Harry dared a glance at Snape. Behind his curtain of hair, his face was bloodless and his breathing had picked up speed.
"I'm... fine..." Snape said, then stubbornly shifted his right foot forward, forcing Harry to brace his stance so that Snape could sustain his balance.
The going was achingly slow, and though Galen insisted that Snape needn't press on, Snape was determined to make it to the end of the bed instead of managing the few paltry steps Galen had suggested. Harry thought the idea mad, but as he knew his opinion would not be heeded anyway, he said nothing and settled on being a silent support.
"Brilliant, Professor!" said Galen, once they made it to the end of the bed. Though he hadn't wanted Snape to overdo, he had kept up a relentless stream of encouragement as they progressed.
Snape's responding grunt made Harry's lip quiver. He was glad when Galen directed Snape to lie across the foot of the bed. Galen then used magic to situate the Potions master in the bed properly. Snape, obviously worn out, as he did not protest this treatment, lay back with a grateful sigh. Harry echoed the sentiment as Snape drifted off to sleep.
*WO
Hospital Wing, Hogwarts, June 1996 (29)
Enlisted to assist in getting Snape mobile the day before, Harry was to again, spend the next afternoon in the hospital wing attending to the Potions professor with Galen. Madam Pomfrey was otherwise engaged, helping Professor McGonagall prepare for her journey home.
Despite Snape's physical weakness, Harry knew the man was eager to leave the hospital wing. His blatant disregard of Galen's wishes to take only a few steps yesterday demonstrated Snape's willingness to do whatever was necessary to speed along his recovery and subsequent departure.
His silent contempt at having to lean on Harry just to make the short circuit from the night stand to the end of the bed had not been lost on the boy, either. He had been equally apprehensive, but the trek had been managed without any mishap. Harry imagined making it to the ward's entrance would be the man's focus for today's session.
Nearing the hospital entrance, Harry heard raised voices. He pushed one of the doors open and was stunned at the sight of Snape and Dumbledore arguing heatedly. Snape was in bed, but sitting up, his body leaning angrily toward Dumbledore, his eyes alight with what Harry could only think of as a righteous fury. Harry quickly let the door fall closed, but pressed his ear to it.
"Had I sent you to St. Mungo's, Voldemort would have had you killed!"
"Death at the hand of a creature I know to be detestable would have been preferable to being allowed to waste away like some disposable mascot!" Snape said.
Dumbledore gasped. "Severus, it is my lot to make difficult, sometimes, life or death decisions. Do not pretend I made that decision lightly!"
Snape was slow to respond, and his voice was soft, tinged with something like - hurt. "Yes, and I shall have to believe that, won't I? Otherwise I might be left with the idea that my usefulness to the Order outweighed the importance of my survival."
Dumbledore was silent so long, Harry wondered if he had gone. He nudged the door open, providing enough of a gap to peek through. Snape was on his feet, standing - rather unsteadily - with the shaking fingers of his right hand tented on the bed for balance.
Though Harry had understood Dumbledore's fearful reluctance to seek help for Snape, he had not considered how Snape would feel about it. While he hadn't reckoned on Dumbledore even sharing that bit of information, it made an archaic, almost knightly sort of sense when he thought about it.
Having witnessed their many interactions over the years, Harry recognized that there existed between the two wizards, an implicit air of truth - making no allowances for deception on either's behalf. Harry imagined that had Dumbledore withheld his decision from Snape, it would have been a dishonorable act, a forsaking of that truth. Though he had long puzzled over Dumbledore's blind trust of Snape, he now suspected it had more to do with that well observed pact between the two than any trivial demonstration of loyalty such as a Dark Mark.
"Harry?" It was Dumbledore. Harry froze, and considered letting the door fall closed and running away, but when Snape spoke, he realized he'd dithered too long.
"Potter!"
Gulping at Snape's tone, Harry warily pushed the door open and stepped inside. While Snape's face was pale and his stance precarious, Dumbledore, looking old, sad, and weary, seemed the one to have suffered the worse for wear.
"Harry, please leave us," Dumbledore said.
Not really wanting to leave just then, Harry was relieved when Galen strolled up.
"Headmaster," he said, nodding. As he rounded the curtain, his eyes widened at the sight of Snape, standing. "Professor, you mustn't be out of bed without assistance!"
"Be that as it may, I refuse to stay here a moment longer," Snape informed the healer.
"But, I really must insist -"
Snape turned his eyes from Dumbledore to Galen, stating plainly and dangerously, "I shall be returning to my quarters."
"Professor -"
"No, Galen," Dumbledore interrupted. "Let him go."
Snape turned, clumsily, to reach for his wand, which had been resting on the bedside table ever since his arrival in the hospital wing.
"Harry," Galen said, "please, assist the professor to his quarters while I have a word with the headmaster."
"I don't need anyone's bloody assistance, Brady," Snape snapped when Harry started forward. "I'll manage on my own!"
With that, he began to inch delicately around the bed. His loathing at appearing weak was obvious in the clumsy death grip he had on the bed's mattress. With a stubborn focus, he shuffled past Dumbledore and Galen, who had created a wide berth for him to easily maneuver past.
Eyeing Snape's progress, Harry had no doubt the man was determined to proceed on his own, but before long, he would need human support. After running out of bed to lean on, Snape stopped. Red-faced and obviously irritated at the loss of his crutch, he began to teeter to the side. Like a shot, Harry was beside him. Dumbledore had shifted forward as well, but he stopped short, seeming to think better of touching Snape.
With a low growl and a frosty glare, Snape reluctantly clasped the arm Harry offered. Gingerly, they made their way to the exit. Once there, Harry cast a glance back at Dumbledore to see him speaking quite animatedly to Galen, gesturing in Harry and Snape's direction. He tore his gaze away from them in order to push open the door.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Snape stopped moving. His breathing had grown harsher and quicker, but despite his weakened state, he was gripping Harry's arm tight enough to bruise. When Snape slumped forward, Harry had to grasp him awkwardly about the waist to keep him from collapsing to the ground. As if in response to an unspoken summons, Madam Pomfrey rounded the corner, nearly knocking them over.
"Mr. Potter... Professor Snape!" she gasped.
"Ma'am, he wants to return to his quarters, but I need help to get him there," Harry said.
"Certainly not! He should be in bed! Come!"
"No, Poppy," Snape breathed. He reached to weakly clasp her arm.
"Severus, surely Healer Brady hasn't -"
"I want to go to my quarters," he gasped, "please!"
Harry swallowed at the sound of Snape's softly uttered plea. Pomfrey simply gazed at Snape, worried. But Snape's eyes were directed toward the floor as he gulped in shallow breaths, too weak to lift his head. She turned her eyes to Harry, as though mentally debating whether or not to return Snape to the ward.
"Could you conjure a stretcher or something?" Harry said, deciding for her. He readjusted his arms around Snape's thin waist when the man seemed to flag even more.
Pomfrey quickly conjured a stretcher and helped Harry ease Snape onto it. As if against her better judgment, she muttered, "Mobilicorpus," then directed the stretcher down toward the dungeons with Harry at Snape's other side.
*WO
Snape's Quarters, Hogwarts, June 1996
Inside Snape's rooms, Harry tried not to be obvious in his curiosity, but it was difficult. The quarters were deceptively spacious, made so by the cream colored limestone walls. Harry had expected the drab, dark gray of the stones populating the rest of Hogwarts' dungeons, thinking them befitting of Snape's personality, but he was pleasantly surprised at the brightness of the rooms.
They proceeded down an entry hall, which angled slightly to the right, and continued on past the sitting room to a bedroom set across from a heavy oak door. While Madam Pomfrey scanned Snape with her wand, Harry watched from the other side of the bed.
"Mr. Potter, I need you to remain with Professor Snape while I go fetch some potions from my office. I'll only be a moment." She quickly strode out of the room and a moment later, Harry heard the woosh of the Floo in Snape's sitting room.
He sighed and looked around until he spotted a chair next to bathroom's entrance. Instead of dragging it over, he lifted it up, moving it closer to Snape's bedside to sit and wait for the nurse's return.
Ten minutes later, she reappeared with Galen. Snape had fallen asleep as soon as he had been leveled into his bed, but Galen needed him awake to effectively examine him. Harry stood to allow the healer on that side of the bed while Pomfrey flanked the other side.
"Professor?" Galen said loudly. "Professor Snape?"
Harry peered around Galen's shoulder to see Snape slowly open his eyes, looking dazed.
"Mr. Potter?" Harry looked up. Madam Pomfrey's raised eyebrows indicated that she wanted him to leave.
Annoyed, Harry wondered why he should have to go. He'd seen Snape in much worse shape! He voiced his irritation with a loud sigh and started from the room, but Galen stopped him.
"No, Harry. You should be here for this."
Surprised, Harry turned to look at the healer, who nodded. Harry cast a cautious glance at Madam Pomfrey whose lips were thinned in disapproval. Nevertheless, he returned to his spot beside Snape's bed to listen attentively when Galen spoke again.
"Both Madam Pomfrey and I will be leaving at the end of the week and you must continue the professor's therapy."
"You're leaving, too?" Harry asked Pomfrey, alarmed. He knew Snape required several more weeks of therapy on his hands, but he had not expected to be doing it alone!
"Yes, Mr. Potter. My sister was expecting me two weeks after term ended," she said. "But, there's plenty of summer left to enjoy." She patted Snape's arm, quickly clasping his fingers in her hand as she cleared her throat.
"Harry," Galen said. "You will need to be diligent."
Harry nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility starting to drag him under. It wasn't so much the responsibility of performing therapy that distressed him; it was the responsibility of performing therapy on Snape - alone!
"Will I have to give him any potions or anything?" Harry asked, fighting the urge to back out of the room.
"No, he is fully capable of taking potions as needed."
"How long will he have to stay in bed?"
"Well, depending on how he -" Galen began.
"Stop talking about me as though I'm not present in the room!" Snape said, black eyes flashing angrily. "Potter, you need not show up here to do anything! I'm bloody well able to exercise my own hands!"
"Professor, Harry has been doing it for the past few weeks and is well -"
"I don't need him hovering about like some four-eyed nursemaid!"
"Well, it's not like I don't have anything better to do!" Harry shot back.
"Oh, do go back to whatever tiresome thing you were doing! I can assure you that your assistance is wholly unnecessary!"
"Professor -" Galen endeavored.
"No! I don't need him here; moreover I don't want him here!" Snape's thin face was pale with fury, his lips curled into a petulant snarl.
Harry wound his hands into tight fists and clenched his jaw before saying, "You won't have to worry about me showing up here - ever!" He turned on his heel and stalked to the door, but before leaving he threw back, "And as for the tiresome thing I was doing? I was sitting with you in that bloody hospital wing!" Then he stormed out, slamming the door as he made his way up out of the dungeons.
Though he would never dare to profess caring about or even liking Snape, Harry had, over the past several weeks, developed a grudging compassion and respect for the man. Snape had an iron will, and had suffered and survived something so heinous, so unlike anything Harry had ever witnessed, he couldn't help but to feel something. Having lived through his own close calls with Voldemort, Harry related with the man on that level, realizing it was an exclusive and poorly populated fraternity to which they both belonged.
It was that more than Hagrid's and Dumbledore's assurances of Snape's true role for the side of light which convinced Harry of the truth. He'd spent hours at Snape's beside, puzzling over how the man had done it, how he had managed to survive that level of torture - how had he managed to survive the past year - with every moment spent deceiving Voldemort under threat of that kind of torture.
Halfway through his journey across the grounds, Harry saw Fang galloping toward him. The sight of the gangly dog ascending the lawn, tongue lolling giddily from his mouth creating the illusion that he was grinning lifted Harry out of his funk.
"Hey, boy," said Harry, smiling. Fang responded by jumping up to rest his paws on Harry's waist and pushing, succeeding in knocking him to the ground. Harry grunted in surprise and tried to push the dog off, but it proved a poor defense against Fang's rambunctious embrace. Harry laughed when the boarhound moved off him to sit down, holding out a paw, which he took, pulling up to a sitting position.
"We've got to find a greeting that doesn't always end up with me on the ground..." Harry muttered, reaching to scratch the dog's neck. Immediately, Fang flopped onto the ground, exposing his belly in hopeful preparation of an intense scratching session. Harry shook his head, amused, and simply patted the dog's chest.
"Harry."
Harry turned and Fang was on his feet in an instant, standing slightly in front of him.
"Galen." Harry stood up, carelessly brushing off stray blades of grass.
"Madam Pomfrey and I finally managed to calm down Professor Snape." Harry shrugged unconcernedly. "I know it will be difficult -"
Harry raised his eyebrows. Galen had only had to deal with Snape conscious and ill for a few days; Harry had dealt with him in great health for the past five years!
Galen sighed. "I know this will be difficult for you both, but Harry, it is essential he receive therapy or he will lose what little dexterity he has. I explained this to him and he finally... agreed to accept your help."
Harry gawked at him. "You didn't ask me if I was willing to do it!"
"Of course," Galen said, tiredly, obviously wrung out from going toe to toe with Snape. "Would you be willing to assist Professor Snape?"
Harry rolled his eyes, aggravated. He looked down at Fang who was looking back up at him. He didn't like the chastising look the dog was giving him. Frowning, Harry gave a reluctant sigh and said, "Fine." Fang barked. "Dumb dog."
Galen exhaled with relief and clapped Harry happily on the shoulder. "Brilliant, Harry."
"When are you leaving?"
"Sunday. That way we'll have more time to work with him together, get you use to one another."
"Fantastic," Harry mumbled.
Galen grinned. "It'll be fine, you'll see."