Hermione checked the sleeping man’s vital signs, his organs, and his limbs. Aside from his healing musculoskeletal tears and fractures and his malnutrition, Snape was in good condition. Harry truly had saved his life. She wondered what had inspired Harry’s urge to bind the man sexually to him. Granted that hadn’t been Harry’s intention, not consciously anyway, but something had to have driven Harry’s instincts. Either way, the two men were well and truly stuck with each other now.

While the wizard slept, Hermione began working to heal the damaged tissues in Snape’s throat. Nagini had done a number on the man, and clearly his wounds had never seen magic. While the scarring on the surface looked bad, it was the damage inside that was truly terrible. Even with spells and potions, it would take time before the man would be able to speak normally again, much less swallow pain-free. Still, she hadn’t graduated top of her Healers class for nothing.

As she magically untangled the scarred folds of his vocal chords, Snape made a gurgling sound and gasped awake.

“It’s all right, sir,” Hermione said. “I am sorry if I startled you. I was working on your larynx.”

Snape tried to clear this throat and grimaced.

“I’ve done enough for now. It’s a start. I will keep working on it a little each day.”

Snape nodded. “Thank you, Ms Granger.”

It was Mrs. Granger-Weasley now, but she didn’t bother to correct him.

“It is nice to see you alive and well,” Hermione said. “Harry’s magic saved you.”

“Or cursed me,” Snape grumbled.

Hermione ignored Snape’s comment for the moment. “Are you in any pain?”

Snape seemed to considering this. “I do not appear to be so.”

Hermione nodded. “I am pleased to hear it. Harry may have saved your life, but you are still weak. And now that your magical core has been resurrected, I should be able to heal you fully. You should be up and walking by the end of the week if all goes well.”

Snape nodded again, looking pensive.

“If you feel up to it, I’d like to begin working on your broken hands and fingers.”

At Severus’s nod of acceptance, Hermione took Snape’s right hand in hers and scanned the delicate bones and tissue that lay beneath the skin. It gave her a feel for what all needed to be fixed, as well as giving her a starting point. First, she worked to heal the tears in the tendons and ligaments, followed by ensuring that the bones were properly aligned and mended and any scar tissue was removed.

“Sir,” she said, “I’ve been thinking. About what Harry did.”

“Impetuous imbecile,” Snape snarled.

“I can see why you’d think that,” Hermione said. She meticulously mended the main part of Snape’s hand before moving on to his thumb. “But Harry acts a lot on instinct. To the outside world, it may look rash, and perhaps sometimes it is.”

Hermione used her magic to repair a nasty break that had healed poorly and Snape hissed in pain. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m almost finished here.” Once his thumb had been set and healed, she moved on to his fingers.

“The thing is, Harry’s instincts are solid.” Hermione moved on to Snape’s middle finger, which was badly bent. “We wouldn’t have won the war without them.”

Snape harrumphed.

“How far can you straighten this finger?”

Snape tried but scowled.

“Let me get you a pain potion before we continue.” Hermione returned with an ampule of violet potion and Snape downed it in one gulp.

Hermione sat back and waited for the potion to take effect before she continued her healing work. “I don’t know what made him deviate from the ritual, but something did. Whether it was because he subconsciously knew you’d be good for each other…” Snape snorted at this. “Or because he somehow realized that his tears wouldn’t have been enough to save you…”

“What difference does it make,” Snape remarked. “The damage is done.”

Hermione reached for his hand again and Snape nodded for her to continue her healing. It took Hermione nearly fifteen minutes of complicated spells to fix Snape’s middle finger and he was sweating by the time she’d done so.

“Only two more to go.” She was relieved to find that the next two fingers were easier to heal. Once the charms had been set, she immobilized his whole hand, fixing it into position in order to give the joints time to recuperate. Then she coated it in a healing gel and wrapped it in gauze.

“You know,” Hermione said, reaching for Snape’s other hand, which was in even worse shape, “it wasn’t so long ago that marriages were arranged in the Wizarding world.” Hermione began working carefully on the damaged nerves in Snape’s hands.

“Your point?”

“Many of those couples came to love each other over time.” Hermione continued treating his hand. When she finally looked up at him, he was looking at her agog.

“Have you lost your mind?” he hissed.

Hermione smiled. “I don’t believe so, sir.”

“Are we talking about the same Harry Potter? Savior extraordinaire? Defender of wizardkind? Vanquisher of the Dark Lord? Darling of the Wizarding world? Any of that sound familiar? And, last I knew, not gay.”

“What about you, sir?” Hermione asked, turning his hand over in hers as she continued to align and mend the broken bones.

“What about me?” Snape snapped.

“What is your sexual orientation?”

“I do not see how that is any of your business,” Snape said, turning his nose up at her.

Hermione smiled. “Harry has only ever dated witches, that I know of,” she conceded. “But the thing is, I don’t believe that his instincts would have told him to add his semen to that beaker if he was completely heterosexual.”

“That,” Snape said, “is an unsupportable assumption.”

“Perhaps,” Hermione said.

Harry walked up the stairs, carrying Snape’s dinner on a tray. He couldn’t put this discussion off forever, as much as he might like to. And now was as good a time as any.

“I brought you something to eat, sir,” Harry said, sliding the tray onto Snape’s lap while trying to avoid eye contact. Sighing, he sat in the chair beside the bed. “I see Hermione’s been working on your hands,” he said, gesturing to Snape’s bandages.

Snape said nothing.

One look at Snape’s thunderous expression, stony glare, and pinched lips had Harry sighing deeply.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Harry said, running a hand through his hair. “What I did was wrong and… and inexcusable.”

“Yes, it was.” Snape’s voice was a harsh gasp of clanging syllables.

“But I’m not sorry you’re alive.” Harry gazed directly at the older wizard. “Even if it means we have to… you know…” Harry shrugged his shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant, though the pile of snakes writhing in his stomach clearly disagreed. “I… I just need some time to get used to the idea.”

“You think it’s only up to you?” Snape sneered, his expression outraged. “Have I no say in this? Should I bow to you now, then? Kiss the ground you walk on?” Snape was wheezing now, but forced himself to continue. “Thank the fates that the great Harry Potter has not only bound me to him for life but has stripped me of my dignity as well?”

“I…” Harry began.

“Get out.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I didn’t mean to…”

“GET. OUT.”

Harry shook his head and left the room. As he closed the door, he heard the dinner tray go flying, crashing loudly to the floor. Well that went well, he thought sarcastically. Then again, what had he expected? It was Snape, after all.

Ron was growing angrier by the day. The ungrateful git had taken over his best friend’s house, not to mention his life. His irascible presence was wearing on all three of them. Hermione, being a Healer and having become accustomed to treating all sorts at St. Mungo’s, was the best at handling the irascible man. At least Snape didn’t abuse her with his vitriol--if he had, Ron would have refused to let Hermione treat him. No, he saved his venom for Harry. And Harry, feeling guilty at what he’d done, took it. Without complaint.

Ron swore. Harry might try and act stoic for his friends but Ron knew how much it was eating at him. Harry was too soft-hearted for his own good. And as Harry came down the stairs, his shoulders slumped, his expression drawn, Ron had had enough.

Stomping up the stairs, he yanked open the door to Harry’s bedroom and glared at the wan wizard lying in Harry’s bed. “You ungrateful git!”

Snape looked shocked for a moment before his features settled into something akin to resignation.

“What do you want, Weasley?”

“I want you to stop acting like a spoiled prat, is what I want!”

Snape cocked his eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What Harry did was wrong…”

“You don’t say.”

Ron’s temper flared. “He didn’t know!” Ron bellowed. “He was raised by those god-awful Muggles. He didn’t even know he was a wizard until he was 11, and it’s not like Hogwarts teaches everything a witch or wizard needs to know. He had no idea sex fluids were so powerful.”

Ron cursed and began to pace. “He made a mistake, all right?” He turned to glare at the man in Harry’s bed. “A mistake that may just have saved your life. It’s more than I would have done for your sorry arse. More than most, I wager. ” Ron crossed his arms over his chest. “A little gratitude wouldn’t go amiss.”

Ron watched as Snape’s face darkened and his lips grew thin with anger.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Ron spat, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable, is what you are.” He advanced on Snape, wanting to wring the git’s neck. “You were slated to DIE! Either by your captors, or by the excuse for justice that the Aurors have become. Harry risked his LIFE and his FREEDOM to save you! He could have left you there to rot. He could have let the Ministry throw you in Azkaban to die. But he didn’t.”

Ron spun on his heel and began to pace again. “And yet you lie here, all high and mighty with righteous indignation, in Harry’s home. In Harry’s BED. While he sleeps on the couch and feels miserable for what he did in an effort to SAVE your miserable life.”

Ron ground his teeth and glared at the man. “He took you from that place and washed you and clothed you. He fed you with his own food. He QUIT his JOB to take care of you! He brought in Hermione--who had to take a leave of absence, mind you--to care for your sorry arse. And you have the audacity to sit here like you are the injured party?”

“I wasn’t given a choice,” Snape rasped out.

“You want a choice, Snape? Is that what you want?” Ron shoved his hand into his pocket and yanked out a crystal vial filled with an ominous black liquid. He shoved it toward Snape. “Here’s your damn choice!”

Snape’s eyes went round. “Where did you get that?”

“The evidence room at the Ministry. I was an Auror, remember?” Ron spat. “So what’s it gonna be, Snape?” Ron wiggled it, daring Snape to take it. “If the thought of being bound to Harry is so repulsive to you, then end it. Set Harry free so that he doesn’t have to spend the rest of his life in misery next to YOU.”

Ron watched as Snape stared at the black bottle, his Adam’s apple bobbing, a myriad of expressions crossing his face. Finally, he turned his head away.

“I thought so,” Ron said, shoving the deadly vial back into his pocket. “Ungrateful git.”

Ron stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The next day, Snape requested an audience with Harry.

“You asked to see me?” Harry stood a few feet from the bed, his arms wrapped around himself in a protective gesture.

“I did.” Snape cleared his throat and pushed himself up into a sitting position. “I believe I have been remiss in not speaking of this sooner.” Snape took a deep breath before continuing. “I wish to express my gratitude for all that you have done for me.”

Harry gaped at him.

“You rescued me and took me in when few others would have. You have cared for me and seen to my needs. For that, I am most grateful.”

Harry couldn’t believe his ears. Feeling dazed, he sat on the chair beside Snape’s bed. “I couldn’t leave you there. No one deserves that, least of all you.”

Snape nodded and glanced down at his hands, which were no longer immobilized or bandaged. Then he raised his eyes to Harry’s, his expression hard. “If I was physically able, or wouldn’t immediately be thrown into Azkaban, I would leave here at once.”

Harry stared in shock, completely caught off guard. He felt as if he’d just been punched in the gut. “I see,” he said through clenched teeth. Then he shoved himself to his feet and made for the door.

“Potter?” Snape called. “Potter, wait.”

Against his better judgement, Harry paused, though he didn’t turn around. “What?” he snapped. Did he really need to stand here and subject himself to more abuse and rejection from the man he’d tried so hard to save? The man who clearly hated him for it?

“What did I say wrong?” Snape asked.

Harry snorted. “Nothing but the truth, sir.” Harry left Snape’s room, chastising himself for thinking he could help the disagreeable wizard in the first place. 

Severus sat in the bed, stunned. What in Merlin’s name had just happened? He’d expressed his gratitude to Potter and told the man he’d leave if he could. He thought it’d been the right thing to say, to perhaps heal a bit of the rift that had grown between them. Yet somehow, that had just made things worse. He shook his head in confusion, having no idea what to do next.

Ten minutes later, Hermione dragged Potter back into Snape’s room by the arm.

“Sit,” she instructed.

Harry sat, his arms crossed, his expression stiff, his gaze averted.

Hermione sighed theatrically, her hands on her hips.

“Professor,” she said, dragging out the syllables in exasperation. “Please explain why you wish to leave.”

Snape frowned. “What is there to explain? Clearly, I am a burden. I have taken over Harry’s bed, eaten his food, and monopolized his time. Surely he wishes to have his home and his life back.”

Harry turned to Snape, his arms falling to his lap, his mouth agape. “That’s why you want to leave?”

“Of course. What did you think?”

“I thought… well, it doesn’t matter what I thought,” Harry said.

“Yes, it does,” both Hermione and Snape said at the same time. Harry grimaced.

Hermione shook her head. “Can I leave now knowing that you two will have an adult conversation in my absence? Or do I need to stay and play referee?”

Harry hung his head. “You can go. I’ll try and be better about listening and I promise to ask for clarification before I jump to conclusions.”

“Thank goodness,” Hermione said, patting Harry affectionately on the shoulder. “Don’t make me remind you again.”

After Hermione left, Harry glanced at Snape. “How are you feeling, sir?”

“Thanks to you and Ms Granger, much better than I was.”

“Good. That’s good.” Harry fidgeted in the chair and waited for Snape to say something.

“Assuming I understood the exchange between Ms Granger and yourself, what assumption did you jump to?”