Proof of Life

In Search of Comfort



Harry bolted to sit up on the couch when the alarm spell woke him rudely. His head was pounding mercilessly. The hangover reminded him why he didn\'t drink much, as a general rule, and almost never to excess. He wandered into the kitchen, drank a vial of numbing potion, and the brutal migraine transformed itself into something duller and a great deal more bearable.



Last night\'s events had a distinct flair of unreality to them. Harry sighed, attempting to wrap his mind around the fact that Ginny had left him, that he was about to be fighting a likely hopeless custody battle, while babysitting suicidal Snape.



Speaking of Snape...



Harry made a quick detour into the guest bedroom, where Snape was still sound asleep. Harry surveyed the room, and then quickly “child-proofed” the bathroom, removing all sharp and breakable objects, spelling the medicine cabinet shut, and placing an unbreakable charm on the mirror.



It was still far too early in the morning to firecall the Burrow and pick a fight with Ginny. Harry wandered back into the living room, opened one of Draco\'s books, and began to read.



Breakthrough, Harry thought longingly. He needed a breakthrough. He still had more than two hours before Snape woke up.

~ * ~



He hung limp in restraints, the entire weight of his body resting on his damaged wrists. His legs refused to support him. His back and sides were covered in blood, some dry, and some fresh.



His thoughts were blurred, disorganized. How long had it been? A few months? No, longer than that. Half a year, perhaps?



How much longer would this last? Surely he couldn\'t survive much more of this? He kept hoping he would die, but day after day, his treasonous body denied him escape, and continued to cooperate with his captors, by pumping blood through his veins, breathing... and hurting.



When the whip struck again, he screamed unashamedly, horrifying himself by the sound.



A voice sounded behind him, and this time it wasn\'t taunting or threatening. It was offering something, Severus realized with a start.



“Would you like a reprieve?” the voice asked.



He should have refused, he should have continued to resist. He should have dared his captors to do their worst, he should have sneered at them, like he used to during the first weeks of his captivity. Or perhaps he should have remained defiantly silent, as he used to do months ago. But lately, his defiance had begun to wane, giving way to resignation.



He screamed again when another blow of the whip followed the question, impacting against the exposed flesh.



“Y-yes,” he managed to whisper, once the scream had died on his lips.



“I am going to release you from your bonds. When I do so, you will kneel. Do you understand me?”



Kneel? Had it really come to this? Would he really give in... to this?



“Do you understand?” the voice demanded again.



“I understand,” he said hoarsely.



The restraints snapped open and he stumbled mindlessly. His back burned and throbbed as if it had been flayed open, and the small puddles of blood on the floor indicated that that might well have been the case. He did not want to give in... but he could not take much more of this either. No human being was meant to endure this much pain, and continue to live.



But then again, he wasn\'t human anymore, was he?



If he had meant something to anyone, they would have come for him.



Anyone being Potter.



Potter – Harry – did not come for him, as he\'d said he would. Potter was not dead, Severus knew that much, from overhearing fragments of conversations between his captors. Potter was alive, but had not come back for him... left him back in the Shrieking Shack... maybe he couldn\'t... or maybe he simply did not care to. Maybe he was content to abandon his old, loathsome teacher to whatever fate was now his, with the slave-bond hanging as an invisible, intangible, permanent token of vengeance.



“Kneel,” the voice said. “Do not make me repeat myself.”



Moving slowly and painfully, Severus lowered himself to the floor.



“Legs apart. Back straight. Hands on your thighs. Bow your head. Do not look up.”



He complied mindlessly, assuming the undignified position, and shut his eyes.



“Good,” the voice said approvingly.



He shouldn\'t have felt the overwhelming relief at that single word, but he did, and loathed himself for it.



The handle of the whip touched his chin.



“You may find this difficult to believe right now, but eventually you will find solace in this position,” his captor said mockingly. “You see, while you are kneeling, we won\'t hurt you... much.”



He said nothing to that. It was safer that way.



~ * ~



Severus awoke with a start.



He was alive.



He had failed, the thought crossed his mind. Harry had intercepted him. He was not allowed to die here, either.



He should have known. There was no escape. Not for him. The owners were always faster, better, cleverer. He shouldn\'t even have tried. Now... he tried not to think of what would happen now. He got up and listened to the quiet sounds of the old house. His trained hearing was still sharp and clear as ever, even after years of captivity. He could tell instantly that Harry was awake, and downstairs. A faint rustling of paper told him that Harry was reading.



He got up, went into the bathroom, used the facilities, and turned the water on. For a few minutes he simply stood in front of the tap, staring at the stream of cold, pure water running from it. It had been so long... so long since he had had access to running water. He lowered his head to the tap and drank greedily, until his teeth hurt, and until his mouth was nearly numb. Bloody hell, but it felt good to indulge.



He tried not to think of the inevitable time when this, like everything else, would be taken away from him. He banished the thought. It would happen, he was certain of it, but it made no sense to dwell on such matters. The best he could do was live moment to moment, just as he had learned over the past seven years.



He dried his face quickly and schooled it to the usual impassive expression, not willing to hold a satisfied look that would betray his indulgence. Slowly, he made his way downstairs, and saw Harry sitting on the couch, with a book on his lap. The young wizard\'s face was calm and composed this morning.



Without prompting, Severus stood before his owner, bowing his head. He had no idea what to do, or say, so he just waited in silence.



“Hey there,” Harry softly said. “How are you feeling?”



“I am well, Master,” Severus replied and winced, correcting himself instantly, “Harry.”



Hopeless, he thought, he could not remember the simplest things, follow the simplest instructions.



Harry was studying him intently.



“You are censoring yourself,” Harry observed. “Trying hard not to say the wrong thing, and make me angry. Yes?”



There was a lump in his throat, and all he could do was give a nod of confirmation.



“You don\'t need to worry,” Harry told him. “I won\'t get angry.”



Dread coursed through his entire body, but words abandoned him altogether. Severus continued to stand motionlessly, much like an errant schoolboy before a teacher.



Harry continued to talk.



“You know, Ron and I used to think you could read minds. You seemed to always know when we were hiding something, or lying about something. Of course, we didn\'t realize it at the time, but you weren\'t really reading minds. You weren\'t routinely using Legilimency on your wayward students. You were reading body language and facial expressions. Yes?”



“Yes,” Severus confirmed reluctantly, too anxious to figure out where this odd conversation was going.



“Can you still do it? Read body language and facial expressions?” Harry asked softly.



“I think so,” Severus whispered.



“I want you to look at me and study my face,” Harry said.



With no small amount of trepidation, Severus complied, looking at the young, weary face, the familiar lightning-bolt scar on the forehead, and the green eyes that were gazing at him serenely.



“Now I want you to listen to me,” Harry continued. “I promise you that I am not going to intentionally hurt you or harm you.”



Severus stared at him blankly. His mind screamed in protest. This was not just implausible, this was inconceivable.



“Tell me,” Harry offered, “am I lying to you now?”



He did not know how to answer that. Harry seemed sincere. There was no sign of deception, no evidence of hidden intention that Severus could detect, but still... the impossibility of that promise was too glaring to simply ignore.



His breath quickened, and with the last remnants of his resolve, Severus pleaded, “Please... don\'t.”



Harry\'s face acquired an expression of genuine surprise.



“Don\'t what?”



He felt as if he was teetering on the brink of insanity. One more word along those lines, and he might lose what little he had left of his mind, becoming forever unable to distinguish between reality and fantasy.



“Don\'t play games with me,” he asked. “It\'s... too much.”



Realizing that he had said entirely too much, Severus waited for the outburst of anger, either verbal or physical. Only... Harry did not appear to be angry. If anything, he seemed to be taken aback by Severus\' response.



“All right,” Harry said finally. “No games of any kind. I promise. For the next little while, I am going to make it very simple. I\'ll give you instructions, and you will follow them, if you can. If you can\'t, you will tell me, and I will either help you, or amend them to something that you can do. How does that sound?”



“Good,” Severus managed to say quietly.



“Fine,” Harry said, rising to his feet. “Come with me to the kitchen. You are going to drink a vial of blood-replenishing potion. Then you are going to make breakfast for both of us.”



~*~



Soon enough, Harry realized that Severus Snape had difficulty remembering how to cook. For a few minutes, the former Potions Professor stared at the breakfast ingredients with a blank expression on his face. Eventually, the blank expression was replaced with something like dread.



“Severus?” Harry called out to him, cringing inwardly at the use of the man\'s first name. But what else was Harry supposed to call him? Calling him by his last name seemed somehow spiteful, and calling him Professor seemed downright cruel at this point.



Severus was startled slightly at the use of his first name, too, but turned his head and looked at Harry expectantly.



“Combine one mug of oats with two mugs of water, bring to boil,” Harry said.



He watched the man intently, ready to jump out of the chair at the first sign of trouble. He should have child-proofed the kitchen, should have removed all the sharp objects after last night, Harry scolded himself mentally, but he didn\'t think of that, of course, did he? Harry continued to watch nervously, waiting for some kind of disaster to strike, but nothing horrible happened. Snape – Severus simply followed instructions, making the breakfast, casting a cautious glance or two back.



“That\'s good. Very good. You\'re doing a great job,” Harry said softly, as if reassuring an anxious first-year Potions student. Harry cringed inwardly, feeling guilty for talking down to Severus Snape as if the older wizard was a child. Harry was certain he was going to end up in some kind of wizarding hell, reserved specifically for people who did this sort of thing. But what else could he do at this point?



Once the food was ready, Harry set the table.



“Sit down with me,” Harry said quietly. “Let\'s eat.”



For about a minute they ate in silence, but Harry was all too aware of the fact that Severus continued to study his face. For a while, they watched each other with anxious curiosity, as if they were members of two different species making first contact.



“You don\'t like it,” Severus said finally.



“Hm?” Harry murmured absently. “You mean, the porridge?”



“Yes.” The wizard\'s dark eyes were settled on him, gauging his reaction.



Harry wanted to deny it, but ... he was all too aware that lying out of politeness might just precipitate a panic attack in his guest. So he smiled a little and said simply, “I hate porridge. But it\'s simple and bland, and it\'s what we both need. I have a hangover, and you haven\'t eaten proper food in a while. In a few days, we\'ll have something more pleasant.”



The breakfast being over, Harry cleared the table, piling up dirty dishes in the sink. Severus was watching him intently.



“Let\'s go back to the living room,” Harry said.



Severus followed him without a word of protest.



“Is there anything you would like to do?” Harry asked.



A small negative shake of the head answered him.



“Sit down, then,” Harry said, pointing to the armchair. “We are just going to relax and read for a while. What would you like to read?”



Severus was staring at him with undisguised incredulity, as if Harry had suddenly grown an extra head. Harry did not press the issue. Instead, he went to his bookshelf, and found a Potions journal that he had purchased five years ago, because it referenced Snape\'s name in two of the articles.



“Here,” Harry said with a slight smile. “I want you to read this. The article on Wolfsbane and the article on forensic potion research.”



Severus accepted the publication from him obediently, sat in one of the armchairs, and began paging through it, looking for the articles. Harry took one of Marietta\'s books, and settled on the couch across from him. For a few minutes, Harry read quietly, but he was too wound up and anxious to actually absorb anything he read.



The effect of the numbing potion began wearing off, and the hangover headache made a reappearance. He tried hard not to think of having to go back to work the following morning. Leaving Snape alone in the house in this condition seemed like a horrible idea... but what else could he do? He could hire someone to watch him, but Harry wasn\'t certain he would trust a stranger or a simple acquaintance with Snape, and all of Harry\'s friends had jobs and their own lives. Selling the Black Estate would bring in a substantial amount of money, some of which would go to pay for the extortionate hospital bill, and... Harry made a quick calculation in his mind - well, he could quit his job, if need be. Maybe it was time, too, he thought bitterly. It\'s not as if he was doing anyone any good.



“I can\'t,” Severus said suddenly.



Harry lifted his head. In the armchair in front of him, the older wizard was clutching the Potions journal furiously, as if strangling a poisonous snake.



“Can\'t focus?” Harry clarified, beginning to realize that he\'d pushed for too much way too soon.



Severus nodded. The man\'s body was tense, and there was undisguised panic in his eyes.



“It\'s all right, then,” Harry said. “You don\'t have to read now. Put the journal down.”



The publication dropped to the floor instantly. Severus\' hands locked together.



Harry took a deep breath. He did not want to say something that would make things worse... but the man in front of him was in the middle of something like a panic attack and for the life of him, Harry didn\'t know how to make things better, either. But... a daring thought flashed through his mind, maybe Severus knew? It was worth a try, he decided.



“You\'re at home here,” Harry said finally. “If there\'s anything you want to do to make yourself more comfortable, and relieve your anxiety, you can do it.”



Short of poking yourself in the throat with a knife, Harry thought belatedly, but had the presence of mind and the tact not to say it out loud.



Across the room from him, Severus lifted himself from the chair with difficulty. Slowly and uncertainly, Severus walked across the room, and stopped in front of Harry.



Harry looked down into his book, doing his best to project as much calm and normalcy as he could. This was home. Harry meant it. Severus did not need to feel like he was being watched and evaluated the entire time. Severus could do whatever he wanted. Severus...



Quietly and hesitantly, Severus slid down to the floor, kneeling in front of him.



More embarrassed than he had felt in a long while, Harry asked, “This... makes you feel less nervous?”



“Yes,” Severus whispered.



Harry almost asked why, but decided that now was not the time for questions like that.



“Well... in that case, that\'s fine,” Harry said with more than a little awkwardness on his part.



Something like relief flashed in Severus\' eyes. He sighed slightly, and leaned forward, burying his face in Harry\'s knees.



Harry watched him for a few minutes. He wanted to offer a comforting touch of some sort, but Marietta\'s stern warning about “not pawing” the patient still rang in Harry\'s ears.



Hesitantly, Harry lifted his hand, and placed it on Severus\' shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. A small sigh followed, and Harry could tell that the man\'s tension was beginning to recede.



Encouraged by this, Harry ran his hand down Severus\' head, and along his back, observing his reaction. The breathing became more even, and more measured. Severus was beginning to calm down. Harry continued stroking him soothingly, until Severus had grown relaxed under his touch. Only then, Harry himself let out a deep breath. They made it, Harry thought, nearly dizzy with relief; they made it through the first panic attack. If not for the fact that Severus Snape was kneeling at his feet, Harry would be inclined to celebrate.



Severus\' breathing was becoming more and more even and deep. His body leaned forward a bit more, and Harry realized that, exhausted by the emotional turmoil, the man was beginning to fall asleep in the unnatural, awkward position.



“It can\'t be all that comfortable to rest that way,” Harry observed very quietly, never lifting his hand off Severus\' back. He leaned forward slightly and guided Severus to climb onto the couch. Severus complied with the prompting, and stretched out, placing his head in Harry\'s lap.



Harry rested his hand on Severus\' head, running his fingers over the impossibly short hair. It did not take long at all for Severus to fall asleep.



Harry knew he needed to get up and firecall the Burrow and speak with Ginny, but the events of last night and the aftereffects of excessive drinking had caught up with him. Harry shut his eyes, and allowed himself to drift off to sleep as well.



To Be Continued...