Severus once again lamented his injured state. If he’d been well, he’d have been at Harry’s side. Even if he couldn’t be there, he’d at least be up and pacing. Instead, he was bound to this mattress by a body that wouldn’t cooperate as adrenaline raced through his veins, demanding release.

Where the hell was Draco? It had been nearly three-quarters of an hour and Draco had not returned. He knew the younger man wouldn’t leave him unnecessarily without word, which meant Draco’s assistance must have been required. That didn’t sit well with Severus in the least.

It was over an hour before a disheveled and sweaty Draco Malfoy strode into Snape’s room, sans his outer robes. The sleeves of his buttoned-down shirt were rolled up, and he was towel drying his hands and forearms. His face shown pink as well, as if he’d just scrubbed it.

As Severus opened his mouth to shout at Draco for leaving him waiting, Draco said, “He’s alive, but only just.”

“What. Happened.” Severus bit out.

“Opened his veins,” Draco said, a bit out of breath. He demonstrated by dragging his wand from the base of his palm all the way up to the crook of his elbow. “Used a mirroring charm to do both sides simultaneously.”

The blood drained from Severus’s face.

“Bloody lucky, he is,” Draco said. “Had Granger not checked on him when she did, had Abbott not been able to Apparate there immediately, and had you not had a stash of Unicorn’s Blood in your lab, we’d be having an entirely different conversation.”

Severus was suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have sent him away. I…”

“Don’t even start,” Draco said, summoning a calming draught and handing it to Severus. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s ours. We should have been paying closer attention to Potter.”

“Instead of me,” Severus said as he swallowed the vial in one, long gulp.

“In addition to you,” Draco clarified fiercely.

Severus’s thoughts were racing, along with his heart. How had this happened? How could this have happened? Anger raced up his spine and he threw the vial, ignoring the shattering of glass as it hit the wall.

“Damn it all to hell!” Severus shouted. “I didn’t save Harry’s life for him to throw it all away!”

Draco ran a hand through his hair.

Severus stilled instantly. Draco never messed up his hair--his perfectly coiffed hair--unless he had lost complete control of a situation.

“What is it?” Severus demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Draco glanced at him with troubled eyes and ran his hand through his hair once more. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I won’t lie to you. Harry’s touch and go right now. Hannah’s not sure he’ll make it.”

In that moment, Severus saw his life flash before his eyes--or rather, the life he’d made with Harry. The time they’d spent together after the war and before he was abducted. The thought of Harry dying now, just when they’d been reunited, was more than he could bear.

“Take me to him.”

Draco hesitated.

“Draco, I got Harry through this once before,” Snape said.

“So did I,” Draco returned, gazing fiercely at Snape. Although it remained unspoken, they both knew that Draco was referring to the time after Snape had been kidnapped.

“Do you wish to do it again?”

Draco shivered involuntarily. “No, I don’t.”

“Then what is the problem?” Severus asked, agitation clear in his voice.

And that was a good question. “I suppose I’m feeling a bit protective of you right now,” Draco admitted.

Severus raised his brow.

“Fine,” Draco relented. “I’ll have to body-bind you to move you.”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

Draco sighed. “Let me grab a couple of things and I’ll take you to him.”

Draco returned moments later with two potions--a strong muscle relaxant and an even stronger pain potion.

Severus took them without complaint. He used the spare wand that Draco had lent him to transfigure his bedsheet into a makeshift robe. “Take me to him.”

As Severus was Apparated directly into Harry’s bedroom, he realized that the inhabitants must have been expecting for him. Not only had Draco prepped him for transfer with the correct set of potions and spells, he’d also dismantled the wards to Apparate Severus directly into Harry’s bedchamber. The coppery scent of blood immediately assaulted his senses, the air freshening charms that had been cast failing to cover up the ominous odor in its entirety.

Harry lay on his back on one side of the large bed, pale and unconscious, sheets drawn up to his neck. His body was surrounded by swirling tendrils of healer's magic that monitored his vital signs and fed into a column of light that glowed amber-red as it hung over the bed. Severus had had one of these magical indicators when he’d been recovering from Nagini’s bite wound in his neck. If the beacon glowed black, it indicated irreversible death, red-black signified that death was imminent. Red meant that immediate medical intervention was required due to heart, lung, or other organ failure. Red-amber meant that the patient could turn red at any moment. Amber meant that the patient was critical but stable. Green meant that the patient was recovering. White meant that the patient was healed.

Severus stared at the red-amber light, knowing that he should be grateful it wasn’t black, but caught up in the fear it engendered in him instead. Forcing himself to look away, he took in the rest of the tidy room, his attention drawn to the few things that stood out. A Japanese-style paper screen appeared to have been placed haphazardly in front of the window seat that Harry favored, blocking it from view. The large armchair in the corner was covered with Harry’s green velvet dress robes and a jumble of scrolls. And on top of Harry’s dresser was a wooden box draped in the silk black scarf Severus had given Harry upon his return, a single scroll tied with a green ribbon resting on top.

Suddenly the significance of all of those scrolls hit him, and he let out a moan, searching out Harry once more. The sight of the young man with his eyes closed, lips faintly blue, and as pale as death itself wrought forth a sound like a wounded animal from Severus that had Hannah rushing to his side.

“Put him on the bed next to Harry,” she directed Draco.

Hermione quickly jumped up, releasing Harry’s hand to hurry around the bed and pull back the covers as Draco levitated Snape into the large bed.

“Are you feeling all right?” Hannah asked, coming to rest her hand on Snape’s shoulder as she released the body bind.

“Bloody hell, NO, I’m not feeling all right!” Severus shouted. “Harry just tried to kill himself. How do you think I’m feeling?”

Everyone in the room froze.

Then Hannah nodded and pulled the covers up over Snape.

Severus turned his head to stare at the young wizard. In his thirties, Harry looked younger now. He was too thin and too pale, making the dark circles under his eyes stand out. Severus shied away from the thought that they looked rather similar now.

Turning his gaze to Hannah, he asked, “How much Unicorn’s Blood did you give him?”

“Half a dose,” Hannah replied. “The bottle contained about two doses, but you know the side effects. I’d rather not give him any more than I absolutely must.”

Severus closed his eyes momentarily and drew in his breath. Part of him wanted to give him the whole two doses immediately to ensure his survival. But an overdose of Unicorn’s Blood could cause organ failure and death, which would obviously defeat the purpose.

“How much blood replenishing potion?”

Hermione bit her lip and Ron looked away. Draco stood stone-faced. Hannah set her shoulders. “Seven doses, sir.”

“SEVEN DOSES?” Severus bellowed. Then he uttered a string of curses in a number of different languages. There were only fourteen units of blood in a wizard’s body and a loss of forty percent blood by volume was typically fatal. Harry had lost fifty percent.

“Organ damage?” Severus bit out.

“It’s too soon to tell,” Hannah said quietly.

Severus swore loudly. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned to the other occupants in the room. “Leave us.”

“But sir…” Hannah began.

“I am more than capable of recognizing if Harry needs a healer. You’ve already got a dozen monitoring spells on him. Now get out,” Severus sucked in a breath, trying to hold back his emotions. “You can wait outside the door. I will summon you if you are needed.”

Hannah nodded but put extra monitoring spells on both Harry and Severus before she left the room, Draco right behind her. Ron glowered but left as well. Hermione leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek, telling him she loved him. Then she made her way around the bed to Severus’s side and, much to his surprise, she kissed him on the cheek as well. “Take care of him, Severus. He needs you.”

When all the observers had left, Severus attempted to roll onto his side. He could not. His back was braced, so he wasn’t concerned about moving in a way he shouldn’t, but with his legs as dead weight, he couldn’t roll his body effectively. Instead, he used Draco’s spare wand to levitate himself into the position he wanted.

Lying on his side facing the younger man, he observed Harry, poised on the very brink of death. Instinctively, he glanced up to see the indicator light--it remained red-amber. Infinitely thankful that he still had the use of his upper body, he reached out and stroked Harry’s face.

“Potter, you idiot,” he breathed. “Why would you do something so stupid? And why now? When I’ve only just got you back?”

He slid his hand into Harry’s hair, feeling the silken strands slide through his fingers.

Harry looked as awful as Snape knew he himself must have done when Draco, Ron, and Hannah had found him. Or, at least after they had bathed and shaved him. Hell, he still looked that bad--emaciated and broken, barely able to move. Pushing those thoughts away, he braced himself and lifted the sheets. Harry lay naked beneath them, his skin pulsing with the magical monitoring charms. Both arms, from hands to mid-upper arms, were wrapped in sterile bandages.

Severus dropped the sheets and swallowed against the lump in his throat. “We are fools, the both of us,” he said, his voice choked. “I’m sorry I sent you away. And I’m even more sorry that you thought I didn’t want you there with me.”

Tears began to slide down his cheeks. “That couldn’t be farther from the truth.” He reached out and brushed the messy hair from Harry’s eyes. “You, Harry Potter, are the only reason I’m alive. You were the only reason I held on for as long as I did.” He cleared his throat a couple of times before he could go on. “Now you have to hold on for me, Harry. Do you hear me? You have to hold on,” he said, cupping Harry’s too cool cheek in the palm of his hand.

Severus gasped against the sobs threatening to drown him. “Please Harry,” he whispered. “I can’t lose you. Not again. Not now. Not ever.”

Severus knew, as did the others, that the first twenty-four hours were critical. If Harry could make it through those, his chances of survival increased. But at what price? That thought haunted Severus. All the magic and potions in the world could only do so much, and with the amount of blood Harry had lost before his friends had found him, there was no telling if he’d suffered brain damage, or how much, or what the effects would be. As daunting a thought as that was, he knew he’d never abandon Harry. He’d help the man, no matter what, just as Harry would do for him.

Now more than ever, Severus felt the weight of guilt on his shoulders. If he hadn’t sent Harry away, Harry wouldn’t have done what he did. It had been a no-win situation. He wasn’t well enough to care for them both, and Harry… well, Harry was fragile at the best of times. Of course he would misinterpret Severus’s intentions and assume the worst. Why Severus hadn’t realized that sooner only served to fill him with further self-recriminations. But there was no changing the past.

He’d do his best to make it up to Harry. And he’d swallow his pride and let Harry help him as well. Harry needed to feel useful, Severus knew that. He just hated to be the one needing help. But if that’s what it took to keep Harry sane, Severus would gladly submit. He only hoped it wasn’t too late.