Proof of Life

The Nature of Life



The rest of the week went well. Severus did not seem to mind when Harry migrated back to his own bedroom, and he adjusted to being supervised by others with minimal wariness and discomfort. And that was a very good thing, as come noon this coming Friday, most members of Dumbledore\'s Army, or rather the Light Brigade, as Hermione had christened them, were planning to assemble at the New Burrow, to Apparate to Hogsmeade together, and then hike to Hogwarts, in order to spend the weekend searching the school for any evidence of Snape\'s innocence Dumbledore might have left behind.



On Friday Harry made arrangements for Pansy and George to watch Severus while he was gone, and signed off to leave work early so he could join the rest of the group.



Even though Friday was a half-day at work, it was just as stressful as a full day. Ron had made no progress at all attempting to get access to the prisoners taken during the dismantling of the Death Eater compound where Severus had been kept. For that reason, on Friday morning, just before leaving, Harry found himself in a shouting match with Percy. Or rather, Harry was the one shouting through the firecall connection, and Percy was being his usual, irritating, law-abiding self, demanding why Harry wanted to talk to the prisoners himself.



“Never fucking mind why, just get me in! I\'m the Head of the Auror Office...”



“Harry, you know that the field officers who participated in the capture of prisoners are barred from conducting interrogations. Now you are asking me to bend and disregard half a dozen regulations, and I really would like to know why, before attempting to...”



“Because the Ministry interrogators did a shitty job, that\'s why! Twenty prisoners have been interrogated, and we have no new leads, no information, nothing! Tell me, how is that possible?”



“They went by the book...”



“Well, it wasn\'t good enough, was it? What have we learned? Nothing! Now stop arguing, and get me in!” Harry terminated the firecall connection and slammed his hand against the mantlepiece. He\'d likely have to apologize later... but not a damned second before Percy got him a pass into Azkaban.



Just then, the Floo shimmered, indicating a firecall coming in.



“Yes?” Harry said, looking inside.



Pansy Parkinson\'s face appeared in the hearth. “The Professor is sick,” she said. “Maybe you can come over?”



Harry nodded quickly, and stepped into the Floo a moment later.



When Harry got home, Severus was in bed, looking paler than death. His eyes were half-shut, and he was muttering something under his breath. Marietta was already there, watching Severus with concern, and once Harry entered the bedroom she acknowledged him with a small nod.



“Hey,” Harry whispered, his eyes fixed on Severus.



“Potter,” Severus murmured absently, as his eyes wandered aimlessly. “What are you doing here?”



“Just checking on you,” Harry said softly.



Without warning, the other man\'s demeanour changed. “Is that so? Why start now?" Severus hissed." “My life meant fuck-all to you before. Why bother now?”

Harry opened his mouth to say something reassuring, but Severus issued a hoarse, choked laugh and turned his face away.



Harry stared at Marietta pleadingly.



“He\'s running a fever, and his blood pressure is slightly higher than normal,” she said softly. “I detect no evidence of infection, no evidence of a curse, or a hex at work,” she continued. “Also, there\'s no brain damage of any kind. However, his mental state is ...” her voice trailed off.



“What?” Harry snapped.



“He\'s disoriented. He doesn\'t know what year it is,” Marietta said softly. “He has no idea where he his, how old we are, or what\'s going on. He thinks we are still at war. He was just clawing at his Dark Mark...”



Harry bit his lip. “So, what do we do?”



“I don\'t know,” Marietta said. “I\'ve cast every diagnostic spell in the book. Turned up nothing. I say, watch him, make him comfortable, talk to him. Try to reassure him. Other than that...”



“Right,” Harry whispered.



Marietta smiled sadly. “I worked all night, so I am going to get some sleep. I was going to join the others in searching Hogwarts, but now I\'m thinking I should stick around this weekend, in case he gets worse. I\'m going to send Parkinson and Weasley home for now. I\'ll also tell the group you won\'t be joining them. Wake me up if his condition changes, all right?”



“All right,” Harry agreed, feeling deliriously grateful. “Thank you.”



She left, heading downstairs, and Harry sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Severus. In spite of his best efforts, Severus noticed the movement, and the dark, sunken eyes opened to glower at Harry.



“Potter,” Severus muttered. “You again. What are you doing at Grimmauld? No, never mind that, it\'s just as well that it\'s you. Help me, Potter. Help me get up. I need to go.”



“Er – it\'s ok,” Harry said softly. “You don\'t need to go anywhere. Just rest, please.”



“You don\'t understand!” Severus snapped impatiently. “I\'ve been summoned. He – the Dark Lord - is calling me. I really shouldn\'t be telling you this, but ... I ... need your help - have to get going...” Severus moved in a desperate and quite unsuccessful attempt to sit up. “Where is my wand? Potter!”



“Sir,” Harry spoke gently, instinctively falling back into the old habit, “I know this is hard to believe right now, but ... He is not calling you. He is dead. The war is over.”



Severus shook his head with disdain. “Stupid child. He can\'t be killed. Not like that. You - you don\'t understand. He - took steps to make himself immortal, he - Dark magic, the very darkest ... It burns... it burns! I can feel him calling. Where\'s the Headmaster? Potter! Get me Dumbledore! He\'ll understand... Potter, did you hear me? Get me Dumbledore right now!"



Harry bowed his head, not daring to look up.



“What is it that you aren\'t telling me?” Severus demanded. “What happened?”



Harry gulped quietly, and forced himself to meet the older wizards troubled, dark gaze. “I\'m sorry, sir... Dumbledore is dead.”



“Liar!” Severus screamed deliriously, and his hand clenched around Harry\'s wrist with bruising force. “Liar! How dare you!”



Harry bit his lip but did not make a move to remove his hand from Severus\' crushing grip. “I\'m very sorry, sir,” he said softly. “He touched a cursed object. You did your best for him, but it couldn\'t be helped.”



For a long time, Harry continued to sit next to Severus while he mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath. Eventually, Severus drifted off to sleep, and Harry stretched out on the bed next to him, listening to his uneven breathing that at times sounded almost like sobbing.



The rest of the day was spent with Severus waking briefly, attempting to get up and “respond to the summons,” staring at Harry in disbelief, and fading back into unconsciousness. Harry barely managed to coax him to take a few sips of water, but food, or even meal supplements, appeared to be out of the question for the time being. After Severus drifted off following another outburst, Harry reached for Severus\' arm and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to take a look at his Dark Mark. The image of the skull and the serpent looked blood-red. Quietly, Harry crept out of the bedroom and went downstairs to talk to Marietta.



“I don\'t know what to tell you,” she murmured, after hearing him out. “Could be that it\'s psychosomatic... you know, mental anguish expressing itself in physical symptoms. By the way, that would also explain the presence of dissociative amnesia.”



Harry stared at her, absorbing her words. “What am I doing wrong?” he asked finally. “I know I fucked up royally with the Patronus thing. But I thought things were going well since then!”



She shifted on the couch, lifted herself on one elbow and smiled at him sleepily.



“Look, Potter, you can\'t start thinking that way. Even if you make no mistakes, and do everything by the book, he\'ll still have episodes, tantrums, lapses, and setbacks. And even if you make some mistakes, he\'ll still get better. The point is, he is in a safe place now, and eventually, his body and mind will realize it, accept it, become accustomed to it, and he\'ll mend. You know?”



Harry looked at her doubtfully. “You sure about that?”



“Absolutely. The human body and mind are incredibly resilient. He\'ll get better.”



~ * ~



It was early evening when Severus woke up. His head was resting on something other than a pillow, and he realized quickly that Harry was sitting up in the bed, leaning against the headboard, cradling his head in his lap.



“How are you feeling?” Harry asked.



His confusion had lifted by then, leaving his mind clear enough to be thoroughly horrified. The entire day seemed like a dreadful, surreal nightmare. He\'d imagined he was back at Grimmauld Place... he had been certain he could feel the Mark burning, summoning him... was he going insane? Was his mind finally beginning to succumb to the damage of years and decades? It was a frightening thought.



He wanted to equivocate, to say he was fine, but as he opened his mouth, he realized he had no strength left to bluff. “I don\'t know,” he admitted, feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable. How long until Harry gave up on him, and sent him away? Harry had said he cared for him, but even caring for one\'s family had limits. Nobody could be expected to put up with something like this indefinitely.



He stretched out on the bed, and turned away, burying his face in the pillow. Harry\'s hand rested on his back, stroking it with surprising gentleness.



“It\'ll be all right, you know,” Harry said softly. “I know you hate being sick, but it won\'t last.”



“How do you know that?” Severus challenged, but not in a contentious tone of voice.



“You are alive. It\'s the nature of life, to mend itself.” Harry sounded older and wiser than Severus ever remembered him. “You\'ll mend.”



“What if I don\'t?” Severus whispered quietly. “I suppose I\'ll be heading for the psych ward at St. Mungo\'s. Maybe a month from now I\'ll be exchanging words with Alice and Frank, not even knowing who they are.”



“That won\'t happen,” Harry said softly.



“How do you know that?” Severus demanded.



“Alice and Frank aren\'t at St. Mungo\'s,” Harry explained calmly. “Neville and Hannah brought them home as soon as the war was over. They aren\'t with strangers anymore. They are with their family. It\'s the same with you...”



“It\'s not the same with me,” Severus pointed out, slightly sick of belaboring the obvious, but feeling the need to clarify things. “I\'m not your family.”



“You are now,” Harry said softly, “for as long as you want to be.”



It was not in his nature to believe well-meaning promises made so recklessly, but the sensation of Harry\'s hand resting on his back somehow served to instill faith in the impossible, and Severus allowed himself to indulge in that strange belief, even as he drifted back to sleep.



~ * ~



On Saturday morning, Severus woke up to realize that Harry had fallen asleep with him again. They hadn\'t shared a bed since Monday night, and Severus was slightly taken aback by how much comfort and security the simple fact of Harry\'s presence imparted to him.



Though this time, it was more than just presence. Somehow, during the night, Severus had rolled over towards the center of the bed. As a result, he had ended up sleeping with his back settled against Harry\'s chest, and with Harry\'s right arm wrapped around him in a way that somehow seemed incredibly tender, and incredibly protective at once.



Now awake, he was incredibly, stunningly aware of everything: Harry\'s heartbeat, Harry\'s breath at the nape of his neck, and Harry\'s flattened palm resting against his chest, his fingers stroking absently in small, soothing circles. If asked at that moment, Severus would have given anything at all in return for this kind touch: he would have gladly given up his body, soul and mind, whatever was left of them. Except... he could tell that that sort of price would not be exacted this time. The hand resting against his flesh was not taking anything from him, on the contrary, it was giving something with every small, absent touch, and every caress felt like a tiny miracle.



He sensed Harry come awake and shift next to him, becoming aware of their positions and giving him a tiny parting hug before withdrawing. Severus barely managed to suppress a disgruntled sigh when Harry\'s arm abandoned him.



“I\'m sorry,” Harry mumbled sleepily. “I hoped not to wake you.”



With his eyes still shut, Severus murmured quietly, “That\'s all right. I don\'t mind being awake.”



To Be Continued...