Proof of Life

Allies



The week that followed seemed calm and uneventful – on the surface. Severus didn\'t have nightmares, as far as Harry could tell. The man kept to his usual routine with fierce determination, as if it was his only grip on sanity. He exercised, he read, he worked in Hannah\'s rooftop garden, and he practised spells for hours. By the middle of the week, Severus was already well into nonverbal spells. That in itself was a cause for celebration... except, Severus didn\'t seem to be inclined to celebrate anything.



Severus became more antisocial than ever, closing himself off in his study for as long as he could get away with it. His former students who came to visit him in the mornings didn\'t know what to make of it, and for the most part, just let him be. Harry himself pushed his luck a bit further, and managed to draw Severus out of his self-imposed isolation most days. On those days, they had dinner together in strained silence and spent the evening reading together.



Or rather, Harry alternated between reading, and watching his friend with growing concern. Severus didn\'t seem to be reading much. He spent long stretches of time simply staring ahead, with his gaze unfocused and vacant, appearing to be completely unaware of Harry studying him.



When Harry spoke to him, and asked him how he was doing, it took Severus a few minutes to reply, but when he did, he responded with a terse fine, that was clearly intended to discourage further inquiry. Harry cautiously suggested calling Marietta to drop by and examine him, but Severus flat out refused, and Harry decided not to press the issue, even though something was clearly wrong. For the moment, Harry resolved to watch Severus as much as he could, and be ready to respond to crisis, hoping that it\'d be enough.



~ * ~



When Tuesday arrived, Severus made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, received his assignment from Hannah, and went upstairs to the garden that had, in many ways, become his home away from home. This was the place where he could be alone, away from the concerned gazes of well-meaning people, away from the more and more frequent brooding about how radically his personal freedom had been curtailed, away from the constant reminder that he was living in someone else\'s home... and more to the point, the reminder that he didn\'t even mind that much, even though a part of him suspected that he should.



But Hannah\'s garden, with its simple silence and, held none of that. Here, was just work, and the satisfaction of the job well done. He intended to hold on to it for as long as he could, although the slight trembling in his arms suggested that he might not be able to do so for much longer.



The last week turned out to be exhausting beyond all measure. He spent the days hiding from his visitors, and the evenings doing his best to maintain a civilized interaction with Harry. And it wasn\'t that Harry was doing anything wrong. Harry was still the same. Severus was the one who had changed. There was too much irrational anger, too much spite, and too much desire to lash out at someone – anyone, at the slightest provocation. For the most part, Severus managed to avoid doing that, not wanting to disrupt the delicate and still (in his mind) very tentative link of something-almost-like-friendship that had evolved between him and Harry.



The times just before going to bed were usually the worst. Severus spent the late evenings sitting in the living room, making diligent attempts to focus on something, but never quite succeeding. When daylight waned, the twilight, sad and cloudy, brought with it memories of the not-so recent past, and sometimes, all Severus could do was sit numbly and stare at nothing in particular, while the derisive, taunting voices of his captors continued to echo in his ears. At times he could swear that he was seeing someone else out of the corner of his eye, and it took all of his willpower to persuade himself that they weren\'t real, and that Harry, the three-legged cat, and the book in his lap were the only reality worth clinging to.



The worst part about evenings was the anticipation of having to go to bed, and fall asleep. He found himself procrastinating, and trying to delay the inevitable. When finally he allowed himself to drift, the nightmares returned, vivid and horrifying in their exquisite cruelty. He dreamt of waking up for the first time upon being captured, securely restrained, with the familiar faces of defeated, enraged Voldemort supporters sneering at him, someone holding up the Pensive with his memories for everyone to see.



He found himself too numb to even issue a whimper of protest, and it was only when the first hand grabbed him that he screamed, waking up and sitting up in his bed, desperately trying to remember where he was, and what was real.



Most nights, he didn\'t manage to get more than a couple of hours of sleep, and every night, he woke himself up with his own screaming. The only blessing in the matter, as far as Severus was concerned, was the strong silencing charm he\'d put on his bedroom the night after his first nightmare. To his immense relief, Harry hadn\'t noticed... yet.



Still, in spite of his sleep deprivation, Severus had no intention of changing his routine, or sleeping in during the day. Somehow, it seemed like admitting defeat, admitting that they – his captors – had been strong enough to wreck him to the point where he couldn\'t live a normal life, a life that included sleeping at night, and engaging in ordinary human activities daytime.



When the warmth of the August sun touched his face, Severus snapped out of his morbid thoughts.



Work, he thought. He made an attempt to stand up, but suddenly and unexpectedly, his knees buckled underneath him, and he found himself sliding to the floor next to one of the wooden raised flower beds. His last conscious thought was that he had to get up and get to work, but before he could summon the remnants of his strength, the exhaustion of the sleepless nights caught up with him, and oblivion claimed him.



~ * ~



He was woken by someone\'s hand shaking his shoulder. He flinched at the unwelcome contact and struck out instinctively, pushing the hand away.



When he opened his eyes, he saw Hannah Longbottom, crouched on the floor next to him, looking at him with concern.



“I\'m sorry,” he said awkwardly, scrambling to sit up, and feeling instantly dizzy from the change in position. “How long was I...”



“About half an hour, I think,” she said apologetically, as if somehow it was her fault that he had passed out on the floor of her garden like Sybill Trelawney after a second bottle of sherry. “What happened?”



“Nothing,” he said gruffly. “Just...”



She studied his face for a long minute, and hazarded a cautious guess. “Haven\'t been getting enough sleep?”



“Perhaps not,” he conceded reluctantly, opting for a half-truth. “I\'ve been going to bed later than usual. My apologies.”



“None are needed. Why don\'t you go home and get some rest? We can reschedule work for tomorrow.”



She stood up and offered her hand to him, which he ignored pointedly. He took a few moments to collect himself before following her downstairs and taking the Floo home.



~ * ~



Harry couldn\'t help but notice that Severus looked more tired and worn out than usual, when he departed to work at Hannah\'s on Tuesday morning. As usual Harry asked him how he was doing, received the customary unfriendly fine in response, and a minute later, Severus was gone.



Severus was clearly far from fine, Harry thought ruefully. He was looking more and more exhausted every day, and his patience with Harry seemed to be waning. In fact, Severus began to resemble his old, ill-tempered, stressed self during the war – and while Harry was glad that Severus was no longer trying to pacify him every waking moment, it was also obvious that something was wearing him out.



Nightmares? That was the only thing Harry could think of, time and again... but somehow, Severus managed to avoid those, at least if the dead silence during the nights was anything to go by. And the silence coming from Severus\' room had been absolutely deafening.



Harry sighed, rising to his feet, as it belatedly occurred to him that perhaps silence didn\'t mean what Harry had assumed it to mean. He walked upstairs, cast a Diclausus charm on Severus\' room, and took half a minute to absorb the results of the spell. The outcome, even though not exactly surprising, still shook him up. There was a powerful silencing charm on Severus\' door. The nightmares hadn\'t ceased – Severus had simply taken steps to ensure that Harry didn\'t wake during the night.



Harry was still standing numbly in front of the door to Severus\' bedroom, when the sound of the Floo bursting into flames indicated Severus\' arrival.



“Potter?” Severus called out from downstairs.



“I\'m here,” Harry replied and began to walk down the stairs.



Severus was standing at the bottom of the staircase, staring up at him.



“You\'re home early,” Harry said, while Severus continued to stare at him, his hands folded on his chest, and his face holding a stormy expression. “Everything all right?” Harry checked.



“Yes,” Severus said sharply. “Why do you ask?”



“Because you\'re home early.”



“We rescheduled for tomorrow,” Severus said noncommittally.



“That\'s it? You\'re feeling all right?”



“Have you been snooping, Potter?” Severus demanded tersely. “Casting spells on my bedroom while I\'m not home?” Harry\'s face must have been an open book at this point, because Severus issued a brief, derisive snort, and muttered bitterly, “Of course. Why should I have any hope for privacy in your house?”



Harry bit his lip, resisting the urge to apologize.



“Is this your idea of privacy?” Harry asked as neutrally as he could, coming face to face with Severus. “Screaming behind the silencing charm, without anyone to...”



“To what, Potter?” Snape retorted coldly. “To coddle me like an invalid, or a scared child? You\'d like that, wouldn\'t you? Would it soothe your belated and misguided feelings of remorse?”



Harry sighed tiredly. “Don\'t be like that,” he said in a quiet voice. “No, I don\'t like that you\'re having trouble sleeping. But I don\'t want you to... be alone. Nobody should be alone like that.”



“I\'ve always been alone, and it suited me just fine,” Severus said pointedly. “What I need you to do is stay out of my way, even if you think you know best.” He paused a bit, and added coldly, “I thought you\'d have learned by now that you can\'t save everyone.”



Harry winced in spite of himself, as Severus\' angry statement struck at something deep within that had ached and burned ever since the day the man was rescued. The words that followed escaped Harry\'s lips of their own accord.



“I don\'t care about saving everyone,” Harry said. “Just you.”



Severus rewarded his unthinking words with a ferocious scowl.



“Instead of indulging your messianic complex, and trying to save me from my own life, do try to remember that you aren\'t capable of saving anyone, including yourself.” Severus\' glare intensified, burning into Harry. “And if you have any doubt of that, do try and remember that your mother is dead because of you.”



~ * ~



No sooner had the thoughtless, cruel words escaped his mouth than Severus knew that it was just the kind of unforgivable statement that had the power to ruin a friendship permanently and irrevocably.



Harry flinched as if he\'d been slapped, and his hands clenched into fists instantly. For a second or two, Severus truly thought it\'d come to blows, and he stood still, cursing himself under his breath, and half-hoping that Harry would simply strike him to vent his anger, and be done with it.



But Harry didn\'t strike out, or say anything in response. He simply gave Severus a tight nod, and walked away quickly. The door of the house slammed hard when he departed, and Severus walked to the kitchen and sat down on one of the chairs, hugging his body with his arms.



The wave of shame and revulsion rolled in, as the full extent of the cruelty of his statement finally caught up with him. He\'d lashed out at someone who\'d been helping him above and beyond what Severus had any right or reason to hope for.... and Severus had repaid the offer of friendship by uttering quite possibly the nastiest thing to ever emerge from his mouth. That the fledgling friendship had been lost was painfully obvious, but the anticipation of loneliness and isolation didn\'t unsettle him nearly as much as the knowledge of how much he\'d hurt Harry with his statement.



Not to mention that if anyone was to blame for Lily\'s death, it was him; but Harry never brought it up – even though he could have done so easily, without meeting any resistance or arguments.



He wasn\'t sure how long he\'d spent sitting frozen in his chair, staring at the floor, waiting for Harry to return. When the door opened again, Severus felt his stomach drop, and waited silently while Harry walked into the kitchen and gave him a small, awkward nod.



“You hungry?” Harry asked in a barely audible voice.



“No.”



“Would you like some tea?”



“No.”



Harry sighed and filled the kettle with water anyway, plugging it into the wall and switching it on.



“I suppose we should talk,” Harry said.



“I know,” Severus said, without lifting his head or looking up. More than anything, he wanted to get up and leave, but running away from the consequences of his own stupidity was never his style.



He could sense Harry standing next to him, maddeningly and achingly close. For a moment or two, it seemed like Harry was going to reach out and touch his shoulder, but Harry didn\'t.



“It doesn\'t have to be me,” Harry said quietly.



“I beg your pardon?” Severus asked numbly.



“It doesn\'t have to be me helping you through this,” Harry clarified. “I admit, I you were right, I want to be the one to do it, but... if you can\'t think of me as a friend, I\'ll understand... just let someone help you through this, Marietta, Luna, Pansy, Hermione, Narcissa – I\'ll find a way for someone to stay with us and be with you, just...” Harry\'s voice shook slightly as he continued. “Just don\'t hide behind a silencing charm alone. It\'s not human. Please? Just let someone – anyone be there for you.”



Harry continued to talk, saying something else, something more, but Severus could no longer hear anything, because there was an uncomfortable tightness in his chest with the realization that Harry wasn\'t raging, or shaming him, or demanding apologies and reparations. He was simply pleading with him – for Severus\' own sanity and health – like they were the only thing that mattered to him at this point.



There had been many people to hold influence over Severus over the years – from Lily Evans, to Horace Slughorn, to Tom Riddle, to Albus Dumbledore – but no matter what, nobody had ever had the power to twist his heart this way, by offering something so precious so freely and unconditionally.



He rose to his feet, and he might have slid down to the floor to his knees, just like he had done before Dumbledore over two decades ago – but unlike Albus, Harry didn\'t let that happen. Harry caught him into a tight embrace and held him up, keeping him on his feet.



“I\'m sorry,” Severus muttered awkwardly. “Harry – I\'m so sorry for everything, for what I said...”



“Shh. It\'s ok. Doesn\'t matter what you said.” Harry\'s arms tightened around him even more. “You\'re tired, and angry, and hurt – and I\'m an idiot. Not a good combination. So what do you say? Should I call Luna, or Pansy, or...”



“No,” Severus said quietly, even as his body began to relax in Harry\'s arms, finding a home in that half-panicked, desperate embrace. “Just you. Nobody else.”



“Will you take down the silencing charm?” Harry asked cautiously.



“If you like,” Severus agreed mildly, feeling that at this moment he\'d give Harry anything, simply for the asking.



On top of the work-top, the kettle whistled quietly, and Harry finally released Severus from his grip. Severus sat down again, feeling more than a little dizzy from the way Harry had the power to turn his world upside down without even trying.



“You realize, you won\'t get much sleep,” Severus felt the need to point out.



Harry shrugged, unconcerned, and turned the kettle off. “I\'ll get exactly as much sleep as you do.” The green eyes twinkled remorselessly. “We\'re doing this together, all right?”



A few moments later, an unasked-for mug of hot tea made its way towards Severus, and he accepted it as a matter of habit, while casting a cautious glance at Harry who sat down at the table across from him.



“I don\'t think I understand... Why would you choose to tie yourself to me this way?” Severus asked. “What could you possibly want from me?”



Hearing his words, Harry smiled again. “Friendship?” he offered lightheartedly, but there was a small note of wariness in his voice, as if he was still half-expecting to be rejected.



Severus shook his head ruefully, finding it difficult to bear the note of doubt in Harry\'s voice, but not wanting to make empty promises, either.



“I thought I\'d made it painfully clear by now that I don\'t know how to be a friend.”



“You were Dumbledore\'s friend,” Harry said stubbornly, and almost irritably, as if irked by being forced to compete with a dead mentor for Severus\' friendship.



“I was his ally,” Severus said, but not in a contentious tone of voice, simply wanting to clarify the difference. He\'d offered Dumbledore something valuable, and Dumbledore chose to reward that with a genuine friendship.



For a second Harry appeared to be taken aback by Severus\' statement, but recovered quickly.



“It\'s close enough,” Harry said with a wry grin. “If it helps any, think of life as war... and be on my side.”



To his own surprise, Severus found himself smiling hesitantly as well. “I\'ve always been on your side, Harry,” he said. “Nothing can change that.”



To Be Continued ...