Harry Angel

Here's the next one ~ thanks Kim

Two

Severus could not believe his luck sometimes. He knew he was a snarky bastard, he knew he had not always made the best choices in his life, but why oh why did he always seem to get landed with Potter?

The wizarding world had been in uproar for weeks now. The theories about what might have happened to the odious little brat grew ever more outlandish. Severus could care less. He was just glad that he no longer had to have anything to do with him. He had been pulling the boy’s arse out of the metaphorical fire for the last eight years and he for one had been delighted to see the back of him.

Any pity for Potter or pangs that might hint that he had missed the stupid child in his prolonged absence were ruthlessly stamped on.

Merlin knew what time Lupin would be back - he certainly wasn’t here now - and Severus therefore had to get the great lump of boy off the kitchen floor and back on to the sofa all on his own. Potter had taken one look at Severus as he came through the door and fainted.

He couldn’t understand it at all. The teenager was irritating beyond belief and as thick as a brick but he was not, and never had been, anything other than fiercely brave and undeterred by just about anything.

He could only assume that, wherever Potter had been, he had not eaten regularly, because what else could possibly explain the fact that he had swooned like a particularly bad actress in a dire romance? He had even squeaked before collapsing to the floor in a puddle of lace, white cotton and wings.

He had proved stubbornly resistant to magic though, which was particularly puzzling. So Severus was currently trying to manhandle him back on to the sofa. It was not easy. The boy was far from heavy but the wings were proving more of a challenge. They were large and awkward and covered in feathers, which of course played havoc with Severus’ sinuses.

Severus was almost completely un-hexable by anyone other than a certain Dark Lord and a batty ex-headmaster. Neither of whom were a problem any longer as they had both moved on to what Albus had called ‘the next great adventure’ – although Severus hoped that Albus was enjoying his afterlife far more than Voldemort was enjoying his. In fact Severus hoped quite heartily that there was a special place reserved in Hell for his former master.

He was completely un-shockable, Severus was, and very good at defending himself even without magic. This was largely thanks to several summers spent in the company of a rather fierce squib by the name of Sammy Wong who had taught him a battery of rather useful self-defence moves. He could also brew a potion to overcome just about any problem or malady, with the exception of one.

Severus was very allergic to feathers, and nothing and nobody had ever been able to cure him. Something the Marauders had delighted in using against the Slytherin whenever and however they could.

The mere presence of feathers sent him into huge fits of sneezing, which had of course earned him the nickname of Snivellus. The loathsome quartet also known as the Marauders had derived a lot of pleasure over the years from secreting feathers whenever they got a chance; something they had done from his very first day at Hogwarts when his little difficulty had been discovered as Severus had been the only child in the class unable to perform Wingardium Leviosa.

He had been tempted to leave Potter where he was, but he had felt a pang of pity for the lad, lying on the hard wooden boards looking for all the world like a fallen angel.

Once the sneezing had started he had felt quite differently though; he had very nearly given his erstwhile charge a kick in the ribs, but somehow he couldn’t quite bring himself to do that to the young man when he was unconscious.

Even if he was a Potter.

Once his prolonged fit of sneezes had finally abated, Severus blew his, now rather sore, nose into a large cotton handkerchief and sat on one of the easy-chairs, which he assumed had once been a match for the equally battered sofa. He watched Potter who, despite Severus’ less than gentle manhandling, had not yet awoken.

He really was rather beautiful, and as the boy lay so still and was not pulling one of those hideous faces that seemed to mar his features, Severus could see rather a strong resemblance to Lily.

Severus had loved Lily; she had been a fierce supporter and a true friend, right until she had started dating that bastard James Potter. Severus had never forgiven her for that and had then spent the next nineteen years awash with guilt that he had not spoken to Lily again and not realised how stupid he had been to throw away her friendship until it was too late and he had lost her for good.

He had sworn an oath to protect her son and he had always done that to the best of his ability; even if he could not quite forgive the lad the fact that he so strongly resembled his father, or that he had his mother’s eyes.

He also had a crease in his forehead that was just like the one that Lily wore when she was confused. He looked quite peaceful though on that sofa, peaceful and a little squashed.

Then all at once Severus realised that Potter was not breathing, his chest was still.

“Oh fuck!” he muttered.

He had had a dreadful struggle to prove his innocence.

Even after Minerva and Arthur Weasley had spoken up for him - not to mention war heroes Ron Weasley, his twin brothers Fred and George, Hagrid and Granger - it had been really hard going, fighting for his freedom, and he was sure that he almost didn’t make it. Albus had left pensieve testimony too but at one point Severus had been sure that he would be thrown into the deepest darkest cell in Azkaban and never see daylight again.

He was sure that the sealed letter in Potter’s writing attesting to his innocence that had turned up just after his arrest, was the deciding factor that allowed him freedom after several very tense weeks. The letter, which had simultaneously been copied to both The Quibbler and The Daily Prophet, had been one piece of evidence which even the smarmy Scrimgeour could not ignore.

He was restricted, closely watched and forbidden to ever teach again, but he had a freedom of sorts and it was more than he had ever hoped for.

But if he were found with a dead Potter in his possession, none of that would be of any use whatsoever.

Severus was not proud of what he did next.

He panicked.

Leaping from his seat, he rushed over to the prone child. He drew his wand and was about to start working his way through his repertoire of resuscitation spells when he remembered that magic didn’t seem to be working on him at the moment. He thought back to all those weeks of training with Sammy Wong; Sammy had taught him Muggle first aid, just in case he ever needed it and right now he did. Severus vowed to send his old mentor a case of whisky as soon as he got out of this current predicament and moved even closer to Potter silently rehearsing the rules of CPR.

He knelt down beside the boy and drew in a deep breath preparing for the procedure. But then he felt those blasted feathers tickle his nose and Severus couldn’t help what he did next, he sneezed.

“Eeeww!”

Potter had awoken at that soggy impetuous. He sat up and shuddered, wiping the moisture from his face as he did so with the back of a rather frilly sleeve.

He was looking a bit battered and now that he was sitting up Severus could see that the huge wings were not quite straight and the golden glow that surrounded Potter’s head in a perfect circle was also somewhat wonky. Fallen angel indeed!

Severus could feel his anger rising. He was beyond angry, way past incensed. Severus was furious, incandescent with rage. The bloody brat had had the temerity to turn up here after several weeks missing in action, dressed in a particularly bad fancy dress costume. It looked to Severus like he had been outfitted at a Muggle fancy dress shop and then applied some dodgy magic of his own devising. Anyone could see that the hideous nightdress that Potter was wearing was from a Muggle chain store.

And as for the wings!

Somehow Potter must have found out about his allergy. He wondered if the little sod’s friends had secreted themselves somewhere in the room and were having a laugh at Severus’ expense.

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He had had a shite day and this debacle had just finished the whole thing off nicely.

In simple terms Severus Snape completely and utterly lost his temper.

He ranted, he bellowed and he raged. He told Potter exactly what he thought of him, what he had always thought of him. How useless he was, what a complete waste of space. How like his father he was, what an arrogant bully, a spiteful malicious child. He went on shouting at Potter until his voice was hoarse and he could simply think of nothing else to say.

All the time the boy just sat there looking sad. His wings seemed to droop and even the halo that surrounded his head appeared to lose its shine. The sorrow in those bright green eyes grew deeper and Potter said not one word to defend himself.

Now that he wasn’t wearing his abominable glasses, Severus could see how truly amazing those eyes were, how striking he had become.

But still he did not speak. Instead he buried his head in his hands and let out a dry, pitiful sob.

Severus sat down beside him; he was at a total loss about what to do.

He had expected Potter to shout back, to laugh, to do anything other than what he had done.

Now he was sitting beside the brat really looking at him. He could see that the costume was rather better than he had first thought. The wings seemed to almost glitter and the nightdress had an iridescent glow. But it was the halo that was truly striking. That had to be magical; Muggles could surely not have created something that shimmered around the young man’s head in the way that it did.

Potter looked truly distraught. Severus could not understand what had come over him to play such a bizarre trick; the lad had never really been into tricks, had he? And if Severus were truly honest he knew that the young man had never been a bully either; he couldn’t have known about his allergy, could he? Severus thought as he gave another sneeze.

Potter gave him a clean handkerchief. This one was as white as the gown that he was wearing, an almost unearthly white. Severus took it and blew his nose again.

“Sorry to have disturbed you,” Potter muttered sadly. “At least you got your wish, I suppose, so the evening isn’t a total waste after all.”

Severus was nonplussed. “What are you blethering on about Potter?” he asked.

“You said that you wished that I was dead,” the boy answered softly, “and you got your wish, ‘cause I am.”

He had obviously lost whatever marbles he had ever owned, Severus told himself. The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Go-Bonkers!

“You are making even less sense than you normally do Potter. This latest idiocy must be a new low, even for you. What do you think you are doing?”

The young man turned and looked at him. “I am dead, Professor! Voldemort killed me. They sent me back because they said there was some sort of chance that I might be able to undo it, my death I mean, because I wasn’t supposed to die just yet.

“It all went wrong because I had a new Guardian Angel called Paulo. But he was very inexperienced, apparently, and didn’t realise that Professor Dumbledore’s death should have shielded me from the killing curse and enabled him to protect me so he didn't get there fast enough.

“But there isn’t a chance, I know that now, so I’ll be going back. I’ll have to wait three more days I think, but then, well I’ll be gone.”

He trailed off, looking sadly at the ground.

“I know it’s not a full moon, Potter,” Severus snarled, “because that mangy wolf who sees himself as your honorary godfather only transformed last week! So I hope you have some other explanation as to why you have suddenly gone completely and utterly barking mad?”

“I’m not mad, Professor,” Potter said in a tiny voice. “I only wish I was.”

Severus thought that the boy was making no more sense now than he had earlier. Something had obviously happened to him whist he was missing. He decided that he would call Potter’s friends. He hated them both almost as much as he hated Potter but the brat obviously needed someone right now so he would have to put about with the Granger girl’s know-it-all wittering and the Weasley boys idiocy. He would fire-call them, he decided.

“I think you need help, Potter,” he said witheringly. “You have obviously lost whatever feeble control you might once have had on your pitiful excuse for a brain! I am going to call your friends; they will come over and talk to you and you will realise that you are completely delusional.”

“They can’t see me,” Potter said. “Nobody can see me, only you.”

Severus snorted. He marched over to the fireplace. He would call Granger now and put an end to this ridiculous charade. The girl was insufferable but she would not lie; she would convince Potter that he could be seen and then she would take him away somewhere, where he would no doubt be fawned over like some returning hero and he, Severus, would get some peace.

Then old Mrs Black started cursing someone for the second time that night, “Foul beast! Disgusting animal, besmirching my home!”

Lupin came into the room. He looked tired and beaten down. He never smiled these days, a lot of people smiled no longer, since Potter had disappeared. Which made the brat’s callous actions even more heinous, in Severus opinion.

Potter looked at the man who had been his parent’s oldest friend with a sad, wistful expression on his face and Lupin walked straight past him and put the kettle on.

“Had a good day, Severus?” he asked pleasantly. “Did you have much trouble getting the ingredients for that new potion that you were talking about?”

He remained in the kitchen for almost an hour just chatting about inconsequentials, making more tea and not once did he even look in the direction of the sofa. The boy didn’t move, he continued to sit there looking very forlorn and completely unsurprised at the werewolf’s lack of reaction.

It was too late for dinner and they had both eaten already anyway, it seemed. Severus had no idea if his unwanted visitor was hungry or not; if he was then he was just going to have to ask for food.

Severus had decided that he was not going to play Potter’s game. Whatever disillusionment spell that he had used on himself obviously didn’t work on Severus like it did on Lupin. Severus had never heard of a spell like that before. Either you were invisible or not, you couldn’t be both, as far as he knew at least.

He could just imagine how the conversation between him and Lupin might run, with Severus trying to convince the werewolf that Potter was there and the werewolf not believing him, but getting hopeful anyway. He couldn’t do that to the shabby mutt. He didn’t like him, but he knew how much the other man loved the lad. Lupin had been the one Marauder who had been nice to Severus - before he tried to rip his throat out, at least!

Severus had always known deep down that that particular incident had not really been Lupin’s fault. He couldn’t forgive him for it but he wouldn’t torture the man either.

So he contented himself with glowering at the brat from time to time.

But he couldn’t bring himself to shout at him any more. The child looked so lost and if anything a little droopy. He looked like he wanted to cry and Potter never looked like that in Severus view. He had been defiant, arrogant, rude, brave, fiercely loyal and very, very strong but not sad like this, not ever.

Severus felt a little uncomfortable. He had said some truly dreadful things to the boy earlier and Potter had said not a word to defend himself. Not even against the many comments that had just been shouted in anger and that were patently not true.

Potter looked defeated.

Severus felt a pang of something that was almost pity. Perhaps the boy was confused? Had been damaged in some way? Had been hit by a malicious spell? He certainly seemed to believe what he had told Severus about being dead.

Severus snorted to himself.

How ridiculous the child was. Severus had seen plenty of ghosts in his time and they didn’t look like Potter!

“I beg your pardon Severus. Did you say something?”

“No Lupin, I did not!” Severus sneered. “I am just thinking that it never ceases to amaze me how stupid people can be sometimes. They’ll believe anything that they are told, without scepticism! Gullible idiots, you’ll not find me so easy to fool!”

He glared fiercely at Potter and swept from the room, leaving what appeared to be a very baffled looking werewolf behind him.