Afraid to Live, Afraid to Die

**Please do not comment on how I write. It's simple. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it. If there are mistakes however, you are more than welcome to point those out. This is Harry/Snape and will get dirty at some point, so please be patient.**


This is the first out of 35 chapter, check back next Friday for the next chapter!!


CHAPTER ONE: STILL STANDING HERE


I’ve lost a war

I’ve lost a fight

I’ve killed a man

Wasted a life


Open My Eyes ~ The Rasmus

Harry stood facing Voldemort, all of the Horcruxes had been destroyed except for Nagini and Harry. The seventeen-year-old felt like he couldn’t breathe, as green eyes took in the battlefield, his wand held out casting a shield around him. The ‘Chosen One’ saw Mrs. Weasley standing over Fred’s unmoving body, dueling with Bellatrix. Neville was struggling to thrust the sword again, aiming for the evil wizard’s pet snake.


Ron and Hermione were facing off with a nameless Death Eater. Sorrow filled eyes could not find Lupin or Tonks, and he could only guess their fate. Next he found George, who seemed to be fighting for his life against a mask-covered cloaked figure, and when he was hit with a blinding green light, Arthur cried out and hexed him silently.


Disbelieving eyes fell to a huge motionless body that nearly blended into the ground. A multitude of emotions flooded into him, strengthening his shield as he once again concentrated on his own battle. Releasing his shield he rolled out of the way as Voldemort’s spell hit one of his own followers.


“Potter! You cost me my best man!” Voldemort screeched.


Not taking his eyes off of the enemy, Harry used a little of his magic to feel out the life behind him. Recognizing Lucius’ fading magic, his vision was covered in a red haze. Rage had filled him, leaving all the other emotions struggling to survive.


“I thought Snape was your best man? All those years spying for you. Hell, he barely complained when you killed him. Isn’t that the most loyal servant you could have?” Harry yelled, a vision of the dark haired man falling, and struggling to breathe, filled his mind.


Evil laughter filled the air, causing chills to course through Harry’s body.
“Severus was a fool. I knew all along about him turning away from me. He had to die. He was a traitor,” Voldemort laughed again.


Flashes of his life with Snape flickered through his mind; no voices could be heard, just images, moments in time. When his thoughts cleared everything was in slow motion. Bellatrix’s wand flared green, a jet of color racing towards Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley’s mouth crying out in agony as his eyes watched his wife fall, letting his guard down. He was hit by a spell, Harry couldn’t tell what, but the man he saw as a father figure went down, still breathing.
The snake coiled around Neville’s hands, causing him to loose his hold on the sword. Again, and again the green snake bit him, his blood soaking the ground with dark red liquid. Ron was standing in front of Hermione, protecting her, his wand shaking. A dark blue stream hit him in the chest, leaving him on the ground twitching. All around him, Harry could see the side of good fail.


“Taceo Aeterna!*” Voldemort’s voice brought things back to normal speed.


Turning his head to see his opponent, he was surprised to see a dark black light speeding towards him. The ‘Chosen One’ tried to dodge it, but it was too fast, and too late. The force of the spell hit him square in the jaw, pushing his head back, continued slicing until it was clear, leaving a long, deep cut down the left side of his face.


Shock took over his body as blood flowed from the wound. It took a long moment but all the feeling abandoned his face, leaving him numb. Green eyes struggled to focus as a darkened figure approached him and he was vaguely aware that his glasses were probably broken. The figure leaned in closer and Harry could feel the breath of death caress his skin.


“I’ll let you live, Harry Potter. You are a part of me, I can’t let you die now,” With that the presence left him.


Something dripped into his left eye and he saw the blurriness of red liquid. He was quickly loosing sight in his left eye and without his glasses the right side was just as useless.


“Retreat! Fall back to the castle!” As he spoke fire erupted through his throat, feeling as if he had swallowed a hot coal.


A warm hand grabbed him, and if he squinted he could make out Hermione’s face a little. He allowed her to pull him to his feet and lead him to the castle, or at least Harry thought that’s what the big, gray, fuzzy thing was. When he felt more hands on him, the boy nearly panicked, but even in his shock-induced state Harry could tell that it was Madam Pomfrey. Allowing his eyes to close, he let the Healer’s soft voice lure him to a black, dreamless sleep.



Sometime later when Harry was struggling to open his eyes, he found himself on one of the many beds in the infirmary. Feeling around for the nightstand he knew was there, he heaved a sigh when the cool steel frame of his glasses came into contact with his hand. Sliding them onto his face, he opened his eyes. The right one seemed fine, but the left one was as bad as his right one with his glasses off. Looking around he saw that the other beds were sealed off, by partitions, to the wandering eye.


Opening his mouth to call out for Madam Pomfrey that he was awake, all that came out was a squeaky sound. A hand went to his throat and he looked around panicking. Catching sight of a mirror, he stood on shaky legs. Upon reaching the mirror, green eyes slowly glanced up. Noticing that his shirt had been removed, probably soaked in blood, his eyes continued upwards. His neck came into view, but nothing looked different. Harry’s eyes did notice a scar that started at his jawbone and emerald eyes followed it up.


When he was staring at his own eyes, which were supposed to be the same shade as his mother’s, the left one was pale, just a few shades shy of white. The black that should have been his pupil was a gray color, obviously damaged by Voldemort’s new scar.


“Harry! What are you doing out of bed? You know to call for me,” Madam Pomfrey bustled out of her office.


The boy, who had been in the infirmary the most during the last seven school years, even missing a year, turned towards her, and motioned to his throat, shaking his head.


“You can’t speak? Oh dear, this is troublesome. Do you remember the curse?” Madam Pomfrey asked, eyeing him.


Mismatched eyes scrunched up in concentration and he shook his head. It was then he noticed that she seemed a little more unclear than normal, and that she was surrounded in a pale yellow glow. Harry wildly motioned for parchment and a quill, which the Healer summoned from her office. The older woman watched while he scrawled across it, handing it to her.


“’Why are you glowing a pale, yellow color?’ I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but may I do some tests on you?” She asked.


At Harry’s nod, she handed him his wand over to him and left the room, instructing her patient to go back to bed. Complying, he laid there waiting for her to return, behind her was Ron and Hermione, and he could see colors around them as well.


“Close your left eye. Can you still see your friends?” When he nodded she continued. “Can you see the colors?”


Once again he nodded.


“Open your left eye and close the other one. Can you see them?”


He raised his hand and made a so-so motion, then in the air he drew their outlines.


“Just the shape then. Is the color more prominent?”


He nodded.


“Close both eyes. Is all you can see the color?”


He repeated his last action.


“What color is Mr. Weasley?”


Raising his wand Harry made pale red sparks appear.


“Ms. Granger?”


This time pale purple left his wand.


“Hmm…you can open your eyes now, Harry.”


“Is something wrong with him?” Ron asked.


“It appears that he can see our magic. It’s not a bad thing, since it will help him determine who’s evil and who’s not. The closer the black, the darker the heart, bright colors like red or blue are a mix of both, or neutral,” Madam Pomfrey said, shooing Ron and Hermione out of the room.


“Do you want me to tell everyone about your throat or let them think you’ve gone silent in mourning?” She asked.


Harry held up two fingers, wanting them all to think he chose this, instead of another horrible thing.


“Do you want me to help you fix it?” Madam Pomfrey asked.


He shook his head and wrote in the air with pale green words. “No, I’m not sure how long we’ll be holed up in here so all of the ingredients left should be used for people who need it more. It’s not going to kill me just because I can’t speak.”


“You may wander around the castle, but please come back here if you need to rest.”


With a nod of thanks, he left the bed and soon found Ron standing with Professor McGonagall in front of the huge doors to the castle. She had the map in her hand, directing a small group of people with what to do.


Ron smiled sheepishly at him. “I hope you don’t mind mate, but I thought this might come in handy.”


Harry gave him a sad smile and shook his head, motioning for them to continue. No, he didn’t mind. It was for the safety of everyone left alive. With that thought on his mind, he leaned over Ron’s shoulder to look at the map and saw where most of the people were congregated. Leaving them behind, he took off for the Great Hall and saw that the tables were gone, leaving small beds with motionless bodies on them. Making his way over to the group of red-haired family that he’d come to love, he looked down in disbelief at the people they were crying over.


The twins, who helped him so many times in school, who were like big brothers to him lay side-by-side. Next to Fred lay the woman he’d always thought of as his second mother, who took care of him like he was her own, that never seemed to be still or silent for long periods of time lay there, motionless, breaking Harry’s heart. Tears streamed down his face as he searched for a sign of her magic, but there was no glow around her. Mr. Weasley sat in a chair next to her, her pale hand in his, his head bowed and his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.


Tearing his eyes from his ‘mother’, Harry glanced around the room, taking note of everyone who was there, lifeless. Tonks and Lupin were there, lying next to each other, while Andromeda was there crying, Teddy in her lap. Neville was still, his grandmother there, staying strong, but couldn’t help the tears that escaped. Hermione was standing near Hagrid, her eyes red from crying. Mismatched eyes couldn’t find the one person who was supposed to be there. Fleeing the room, he ran past Ron and McGonagall, struggling to get the door open, but strong, shaky arms held him back. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Ron holding him, preventing him from going outside.


“You can’t, Harry. There are Death Eaters everywhere, they’ll curse you before you can get the door open all the way,” Ron said.


Harry didn’t say anything, or rather couldn’t but let his eyes plead with his best friend, hoping he’d catch the meaning.


“I know that Snape’s body is out there, but there’s no way to get to him, we’ve tried. I swear to you, we tried,” Ron said, sadly.


Harry nodded and stopped struggling against him and stopped trying to open the door. McGonagall put a comforting hand on his shoulder.


“We all know that Severus was really on the side of good until the end. We could see it in the way he quietly helped the school while he was here, and we saw his memories that you left in the Pensive. All of the people who died for the right reasons will have a Memorial inside the school, a wall of their names, and an image,” McGonagall said, informing everyone who had come to see the commotion.


Harry nodded, and silently made his way back to the infirmary, emotionally shattered.



*Taceo Aeterna – to be silent forever