All That You Leave Behind

24/12/07. Hiya, Q here. Angst has been working hard on this chapter and gave it to me to tweak (and then she somehow talked me into posting it - grr!). So, we hope you like it! Have a wonderful Snarry filled Christmas!

Chapter 8

Slowly Harry climbed the stairs towards Snape's room, Ginny still on his mind. Damn Hermione anyway! He knew he was going to have to contact Ginny somehow, maybe send her an owl, and soon. An owl. He felt a sharp pang at the memory of Hedwig, his ever-faithful owl. He really missed her. She'd been his first real friend. He knew he should go to Eeylop’s to replace her, but, how could he replace Hedwig? She had been with him faithfully for six years. How could he just ‘get another’? His thoughts led him to Snape – Snape had been faithful for six years, longer, in fact. Could Harry make things right with the man?

His pace slowed as he moved up the stairs – he wasn’t ready yet, not ready to take over Snape’s care. He had imagined the older man as maybe having the wound, but otherwise being himself. He hadn’t envisaged the weak helpless figure slumping on the pillows who had glowered but been unable to even leave the bed to force Harry out. He was stirred out of his thoughts by the sight of Kreacher coming slowly out of Snape's room, one knarled hand closing the door quietly.

"Is he all right, Kreacher?" Harry whispered.

"Master Snape is resting, Master Harry, but he is not happy," Kreacher croaked, his ears flopping about as he shook his head, "he wishes for Master Harry to leave his house."

Harry sighed and said, "Well, he isn't going to get his wish, Kreacher. Hermione isn't here anymore. She left to get some rest and then to go to Australia, so he's going to have to make do with me."

"Kreacher is pleased Master Harry is here," the ancient elf wheezed, his wrinkled face contorting into a crooked smile.

Harry shrugged slightly. How in Merlin’s name could he care for Snape?

"Yeah," Harry sighed again and muttered, "at least someone is happy to see me. You're going to have to tell me which potions are what, and when Snape needs them. Help me look after him, like you helped Hermione, Kreacher."

'Kreacher is more than happy to help Master Harry however Master Harry requires, Master Harry," Kreacher nodded.

"Right," Harry frowned. He wished the elf wouldn't insist on calling him "Master Harry", but also knew that Kreacher would be offended if Harry insisted he stop. "I'll...just go check on him then, Kreacher. Erm...carry on with whatever you usually do, okay?"

"Very well, Master Harry," Kreacher nodded and disappeared with a small pop.

Shaking his head, Harry went to Snape's door and listened a moment. Hearing nothing, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the moment to come and cautiously opened the door a crack and peered in.

He thought the still form on the bed was asleep until he was startled by the man rasping out, "P-Potter!...are you...still ...here?" The annoyance was clear in his tone.

Telling himself that he would not let the man goad him into losing his temper again today, Harry stepped fully into the room and walked over to the bed. Although more prepared for it, the white streak in Snape’s hair and the bandages swathing his throat shocked him all over again, but he managed to hide it as he said, "Yes...Sev...Severus, I'm still here, and I'm staying here."

"No," Snape expelled quite clearly, "I...do not...."

"Yes." Harry answered firmly. Then realising he was already becoming irritated he deliberately used a calmer tone, "You do need my help. Hermione isn't here anymore. I sent her to the Burrow to rest, and then to fetch her parents from hiding, so it looks like you're stuck with me."

Snape muttered something that sounded like "infernal....brat." Harry wasn't sure, so decided to ignore it.

"Look," he said instead, "I want to apologise for shouting at you earlier. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. I guess...well, I guess I was a little scared...seeing you again. I mean, well...I saw you die, and then Hermione told me that you weren't dead. It was just a shock, because..." He faltered here, not wanting to admit how hysterical he'd been at finding the Shrieking Shack a charred ruin and Snape's body gone. Even now he couldn’t explain why it had affected him so deeply. "...only...I thought you were dead," he finished lamely.

"I was...dead," the man growled, "peacefully so...until...G-Granger had...to inter...interfere...". Snape wheezed a bit and then spat, "the nerve...” he gasped for breath and Harry came closer, a look of concern on his face.

“What do you need?” he asked, voice anxious, “How can I help?”

Snape’s lip moved, but no sound came out. Exhausted he seemed to sink still further into his pillows.

Harry felt panic growing in him. He couldn’t do this! “Kreacher!” he cried, feeling hysteria welling in him, “Kreacher!”

The elf appeared, took one look at Harry, then turned his attention to the figure on the bed. As he doctored the other, he explained what he was doing for Harry’s benefit. At last, some ten minutes later, a faint flush of colour showed itself on Severus’ drawn face.

“Oh yes …” he croaked, “You’ll be …. a great help ….”

Even recovering from what should have been a fatal wound, Snape could still make Harry feel like he was in his first potions lesson. The boy felt his face flame.

“I will.” He retorted. “I’ll learn from Kreacher.” He felt determination grow in him. He could help Severus, and he would.

The house elf was picking up the empty bottles and glanced up at his owner. Harry looked down at the other, glad that he had been here. He opened his mouth to express his gratitude but Snape beat him to it, “Th-Thank you, Kreacher,” he panted.

The elf bowed. “Master Snape,” he acknowledged, and left with the used vials.

Harry frowned. It rankled; that simple act of beating him to thank Kreacher rankled.

“Do you have to be so…so insufferable?!” Harry snapped.

A lazily risen eyebrow was his response.

“I’m serious. This isn’t exactly easy for me, you know. I see you die, and then learn about how you felt for my Mum, then, I grieve for you, and the lost chances I had, and THEN I find actually you aren’t dead but you are still a git!” Harry glared, panting with rage.

“Oh yes,” Snape rasped, “Your life … is so … difficult. Famous ….Harry Potter …winging about …how unfair his …life is… Excuse me …. whilst I … vomit.” He coughed painfully.

At once Harry felt guilt smite him. “Shit! I’m … oh bollocks!” He flushed in embarrassment.

Trapped on the bed, Severus enjoyed watching Harry’s face change from white to red with predictable regularity. It amused him that as incapacitated as he was, he still held more power than the Saviour of the Wizarding World. The thought entertained him greatly, and he even felt a small smile stretch his lips.

Harry saw the tiny smile and drew in a sharp breath. When was the last time Snape had smiled? He thought back over the years he had been at Hogwarts – nope, Severus had never smiled then. He wondered at the expression. What had caused the other enjoyment such as he had not experienced in the past six years?

Harry felt paranoid. “Am I amusing you?” he asked, angered and hurt a little.

Severus shrugged his shoulders. “A little,” he admitted whispering.

“Great!” Harry muttered to himself, “That’s just fucking perfect!” He turned away, fuming, but a cough from the bed drew his attention back.

“Pass…pass me that,” Severus choked out, pointing a shaking finger at a tear drop shaped container. His face was flaming, Harry noticed.

The younger man passed the item and looked confused at Snape’s irritated expression.

“Go … away!” He ground out venomously.

“Why?”

“I need … a piss … you ignorant shit!” Severus answered, now almost purple with embarrassment.

“Oooooh.” Harry finally understood what the container was for. Then, when Snape continued to glare at him, “Oh.” He left the room.

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