A Time for Peace

A Time for Peace

Journeys was a non profit AIDS hospice on the lower West End in London, currently the old home housed only four men that were waiting patiently to depart on the final journey. Harry Potter was the newest volunteer to Journey House and tonight would be his first night alone with the residents. He came in through the kitchen door and put his lunch away in the staff refrigerator and went to find the man whose shift was ending.

In the bedroom at the end of the upstairs hallway, Severus Snape lay in his bed and tiredly thumbed through one of his academic journals while he waited for his evening painkillers to be brought up to him. He knew the staff hated dealing with him, he was an unpleasant man when in the best of health, but now…now he was a right proper bastard to any and all that darkened his doorway. He hadn’t wanted to move into the hospice those months ago, but he’d had no choice when his money ran out and he could no longer afford a hired nurse. He’d arrived alone, checked in alone, and had not received one visitor in the past eight months. He told himself he liked it that way.

Harry listened as his predecessor went over what charts belonged to whom and what little things he needed to know about each resident. They had gone through three charts and when the other man didn’t pick up the fourth, Harry asked him about it.

“That’s Snape. Just take him his meds and try not to irritate him. He has a tongue sharp enough to rip your skin off. I swear I’ve never met such an unlikable bastard,” Gordon said as he shrugged his coat on and gave Harry the key to the meds locker. “You are licensed to dispense narcotics, right?”

“I’m a licensed nurse, so yeah, I can dispense,” Harry said as he hung the key around his neck. He rehung the charts in their place and locked the door after the other man when he left. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was after eleven and it was time to make his first round. Checking the notes he’d taken, he gathered what medication he would need on a small tray along with a pitcher of juice.

Harry climbed the stairs to the second-floor and knocked on the first bedroom door, then entered to introduce himself to the resident who lived there. He did that with the next two residents along with passing out the medication that each man required. He looked down at the last name on his list, Severus Snape. He was not one who normally took another’s word about someone else and he wasn’t about to change his habits now.

“Mister Snape, I have your medication,” Harry called as he knocked lightly on the closed door. He heard a loud, put upon sigh from behind the door and the sounds of someone moving around.

“Enter.”

Harry opened the door to find a dour looking, raven haired man lying on the narrow bed by the window. He let his eyes glance around the room for a brief moment; surprisingly there were no personal belongings to be found anywhere unless you could count the books on the small table beside the bed. This was the most senior resident and yet it looked as though he’d arrived only yesterday.

Snape looked at the young man that was invading his precious privacy and scowled. Merde, they were recruiting children now, he thought with disgust. He looked like he should be out playing some inane game in a schoolyard rather than dealing with death. Then he looked closer and saw a tell tale sign, a badge to let others know he was going to die as well. Christ, there ought to be rules against letting someone that was terminally ill take care of the dying.

“Hello, I’m Harry. I just started tonight,” Harry said as he sat his tray down and lifted the pitcher of juice to pour the man a cup.

“Don’t, I take only tea and I have it here,” Snape snapped in irritation. Didn’t those bumbling fools tell this child of his preferences? Harry sat the pitcher back down and brought the little plastic cup with the numerous and colourful pills to the side of the bed.

“I’ll remember that next time,” he said as he stood watching the other man take his medication. Harry had an idea from the different drugs that Severus Snape was nearing the end of his journey; the tremors in his hands only gave the idea more credence. He turned to leave as Snape handed him back the empty cup only to be stopped by the dying man.

“They’ve not had someone sick here before on staff, you know,” he said as he watched the young man for a reaction. “I personally don’t think it’s right. Too bloody depressing, but no one asks what I think. Not anymore.”

Harry turned slowly and looked at the man lying on the bed. He wasn’t sure how to respond to this, no one had told him when he’d agreed to take the shift. He closed his eyes for a moment, sighed, opened them and then answered.

“They know me here quite well, and I thought I might be able to help them out as a way to express my gratitude to them,” he said with a tight smile and turned once more to go.

“Gratitude for what? A place for queers to die? Are you hoping that they have a bed for you in time?” Snape snarled, the words ending in a cough that racked his skeletal body until it left him out of breath, his lips blue and face greyish. Harry quickly moved to get one arm under the man and lifted him up into more of a sitting position with pillows propped behind him, then he put the man’s nasal cannula back into place and flipped on the oxygen. He pulled up the closest chair and held Snape’s thin wrist in his hand, monitoring his pulse until the man’s colour was back to its normal sallowness.

“You shouldn’t yell,” the nurse murmured quietly as he checked the oxygen flow and poured Snape another cup of tea. Black eyes glared back at him as Severus enjoyed the luxury of breathing once more. “If you want to know why I’m here, I’ll tell you, okay?” Snape nodded and looked expectantly at him.

“Tell me.”

“My lover died in the room down the hall eleven months ago,” Harry said as he looked down at his hands, looking at the ring he still wore and would hopefully be buried with. “It’s my way to say thank you to them here for making Draco’s death as dignified as they could.”

“There is no dignity in death, young man,” Snape wheezed as he looked at Harry with something that resembled compassion in his dark eyes.

“No, there really isn’t, but Dray didn’t want to die at home or in a hospital, so we came here,” Harry said quietly as he thought back on the final month and a half of his time with his partner.

“At least he wasn’t alone,” the man in bed said the bitterness all too evident in his voice and how he glared at his surroundings. Harry looked up as understanding dawned on him. Severus Snape was alone in the world. Alone and dying.

“No, after I lost my job at the hospital, I stayed with him all the time,” Harry said with a sad smile. “I imagine I drove him mad at times.”

“Were you a bad nurse?” Snape asked sarcastically as he raised an eyebrow and looked at the man beside his bed. He had lost his job as well. The school governors had made it plain they didn’t want a dying queen teaching their precious offspring.

“No, they found out I was the lover of a man dying from the Gay Plague. They didn’t want the liability issues if people found out,” Harry said with his own brand of bitterness. “Then when I was diagnosed it was a death sentence for my career as well.”

“It does tend to have that effect,” Snape drawled as his eyes began to close; he snapped them open again and stuck out one bony hand to Harry. “I’m Severus Snape, former biology teacher, current resident of death’s halfway house.”

Harry took the offered hand carefully, feeling how cold it was to the touch, and enveloped it in his own warm ones. “It’s nice to meet you, Severus. I’m Harry Potter, former registered nurse and current shepherd here in the halfway house.”

Severus nodded, his eyes drifting shut once more as Harry gently laid his hand on his chest and tucked the duvet up around him snugly. One ebony eye opened, regarding Harry with some unnamed emotion, this had been the longest anyone had stayed in his company voluntarily in nearly a year.

“Rest well Mister Snape, I’ll check in on you later tonight,” Harry said as he stood.

“Thank you, Shepherd Potter, now go away so I can try to have a wet dream in peace,” he mumbled, his words slurring, but the snark coming through.

“I’ll be sure to let you finish if I come in and you’re humping the mattress later,” Harry laughed as he turned out the lights and pulled the door shut behind him. He went back downstairs and settled in at the kitchen table with the charts to document his rounds and to also learn a little more about his charges. Four men, four different stories with one common thread, all were gay. He had noticed that the others had many personal items and signs of loved ones who visited regularly around their rooms, but not Snape. On a hunch he checked the visitor’s register, as he looked back over the past months it became clear that not once had Snape received a visitor.

Two hours later Harry took his small flashlight and began his rounds again, the first three rooms held sleeping occupants and no meds to be given. When he got to the last door he could hear the low murmur of voices, he knocked gently and pushed the door open to find Snape sitting up in his bed reading while he was listening to a big band programme on his small radio. Harry looked at him, taking in the sallow skin stretched over his skeletal frame, the keloids that were visible on his arms and one that could barely be seen under the collar of his night shirt, the thinning shoulder-length black hair that at one time must have hung in a shining curtain, the too bright ebony eyes, the thin lips that moved silently as he read, his spectacles sitting low on his patrician nose; looked at him and wondered why this man was alone in the world.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked very quietly so he didn’t wake any of the other residents, he came further into the room and shut the door quietly behind him. Those beetle black eyes looked up at him, a flicker of loneliness was quickly hidden as the man gave Harry a surprised look. “I didn’t mean to startle you, Mister Snape, just doing my rounds.”

“It’s Severus, and I rarely sleep for more than an hour at a time now,” he replied as he sat his book to one side. “Time for rounds already, is it?” he asked as he picked up the small alarm clock on the bedside table and peered at it with a frown. “Damn, earlier than I thought.”

“Well, since you are up, I won’t have to wake you for your pill,” Harry said as he held out the small plastic cup for Snape to take. The older man regarded the offered cup with disgust as he took it as if it’s very existence offended him to no end. “I suppose you don’t need juice, then.”

Snape glared at Harry as he tossed the pill into his mouth and picked up his tea cup to chase it down with cold, bitter tea. “I’d rather dance with the devil than drink that so-called healthy shite,” he growled as the cup was thrown unceremoniously into the wastebin by the bed. Harry only chuckled and turned to leave the man alone in his privacy.

“Good night then.”

“Wait…I mean you don’t have to run off Shepherd Potter,” Severus said with one hand outstretched, he looked at that hand and brought it back down to his side. “If you do not have any pressing business, perhaps you would like some company,” he said stiffly as he stared at a spot somewhere to Harry’s left. Harry only smiled and nodded.

“Give me just a mo to chart what time you took your pill and I’ll be right back up. Would you like a snack or anything when I return?” he asked as he leaned against the doorway. Severus shook his head and Harry quickly left to do the charting and returned a few minutes later.

Severus lay back on his pillows, taking his spectacles off and pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed to himself. He couldn’t explain to himself why out of all the people that had been in and out of his room in the past eight months, why he was allowing this young man to stay let alone encouraging him in conversation. He smirked to himself, he knew exactly why he was reaching out to Potter, he was alone and afraid of it. His time was limited now and he didn’t want to die without at least having a civil conversation one last time. At one time he’d hoped that perhaps his mother would have made the trip to see her only child, but he hadn’t been surprised when his letter had been returned unopened. His father had made it clear that he was no longer a member of his family when he had come out of the closet. As for friends, colleagues, or lovers, he gave a quiet snort. His colleagues were most likely glad to see him gone, as for friends, he had none; and lovers? There had never been one, only the occasional one night stand or rent boy if the need was overwhelming.

He found himself out of bed and in the small closet that held his personal belongings, dragging out the cardboard storage box that held what was left of his life now. Nearly out of breath, he managed to get the box heaved onto the bed and then settled himself against his pillows once more.

Harry fixed himself a large cup of tea and slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor, part of him knew he should let the other man be so he could rest, but another was pushing him to extend a hand to him. He opened the bedroom door once more and found Severus leaned forward and going through a box setting between his knees on the bed.

“What’s that?” he asked as he pulled up the chair he’d sat in earlier that night, making himself comfortable as Severus looked up at him with a half smile on his face. He withdrew his hand and showed Harry the small crystal tree ornament that he had his fingers curled around.

“This is an ornament my grandmother had given me years ago that she brought with her from Austria,” he explained as he held the small, hand blown bauble by its silver chain. Harry looked closely and smiled, it was a rampant dragon done in blown glass that the man held.

“That is priceless,” Harry breathed as he watched the dim light from the bedside lamp dance over the surface. Severus carefully cradled it in his large hand and smiled sadly before he replaced it in the small wooden box that was made to protect it.

“I’ve never had cause to hang it on a holiday tree, Shepherd Potter,” he said softly as he set the small box back into the cardboard storage box that held his personal effects. “A pity really, it should have been seen.”

“You don’t celebrate?” Harry asked curiously, worried he might be asking too personal of a question. The raven haired man only sighed as he replaced the lid on the box.

“I never saw a reason to put up a tree and trimmings without another to celebrate with,” he said as he motioned to the box and looked questioningly at Harry. “Would you mind returning this to the closet? I fear I’ve over done myself.”

Harry quickly set down his tea and moved forward to do as Severus had asked him, he didn’t want the other man to even try getting out of the bed again. “There you go, all safe and tucked away,” he said as he closed the closet door and returned to his chair. Severus nodded and stayed quiet a moment.

“Harry, do you know what happens to the belongings here after someone dies?” he asked as if he were doing no more than asking about the weather or what was to be served for breakfast.

“They go to the family. Dray’s things were given to me,” he replied as he thought of the small box that sat in the bottom drawer of his dresser; his lover’s glasses, watch, the ring that matched the one Harry still wore, a few other things that were Draco.

“And if there is no family to claim them?” the question was asked so softly Harry nearly didn’t catch it. He looked at the man in bed and felt his heart break a little more.

“They will try to reach your next of kin on your registry paper.”

“And if there is none listed?” again the very quiet question, no more than a wispy breath that was filled with trepidation.

“From what I garner, clothing is given to charity as is anything else that could be useful, the rest is disposed of,” Harry answered, hating the words he was saying to the dying man. Severus didn’t speak again for a long while, he seemed to be digesting the information that he’d not wanted to face. After several long minutes, he looked up and nodded to the telly that set opposite the bed.

“Fancy a bit of Monty Python, good Shepherd?” he asked as he leaned over and picked up the remote controls from his bedside table. “I’ve several tapes if you’d care to join me for some mindless entertainment.”

Harry smiled and nodded at him and stood to put the movie in that the other man instructed. As the strains of music began signaling the beginning of the movie, Harry settled back into his chair and they watched that movie and one other in companionable silence, breaking only for the loo and Harry’s rounds. When the clock downstairs chimed five, Harry stood and looked down at the closed eyes of the dozing man and after giving him a gentle smile, he left the room to finish his shift up.

The following nights took the shape of a familiar schedule after that. Harry would arrive, check his charts, do his rounds and if Severus happened to be awake, they would either talk or watch whatever movies Harry had brought with him. Over the hours he spent with him, Harry had learned that Severus had been a biology teacher at a private high school, that his family considered him dead as of the day he came out of the closet, that the man had never had a lover; only one night stands and paid companionship, and Severus had listened as Harry talked of Draco and the life they had had together.

It was two days before Christmas when Harry came through the kitchen door of the hospice, his lunch and the movies Severus had requested tucked under one arm. It wasn’t until Gordon looked up with only three charts in his hand that Harry felt his soul go cold.

Gordon was sorry, he hadn’t known that Harry had become friends with Severus, if he had of known, they would have called Harry straight away. Wouldn’t have let him find out like this. Harry stumbled to the sofa where he collapsed with a sob, looking up at Gordon for the details. Severus had gone in his sleep, when they did the rounds at nine that morning; the nurse had found him with a small smile on his face and this in his hand.

Gordon handed Harry an envelope and a too familiar wooden box. The envelope was addressed to Shepherd Potter, Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Severus’ handwriting was spidery and sprawled, but he had no trouble reading it.

Good Shepherd Potter,
The time has come for me to say goodbye. I shan’t make this morbidly long, just long enough to convey a few thoughts.

Thank you, Harry, for the last days I’ve had. You have safely shepherded your first soul along its journey and managed to take the fear of being alone away.

If there is an afterlife, perhaps once you arrive, you and your lad would like to join an old, bitter bastard for a few movies.

Harry, please keep the ornament. I shan’t trouble my mind with what happens to the rest of my belongings, but this one, it needs a home, please take care of it.

I shall look for you if there is a place for me to wait.

Severus Snape

The letter fell from Harry’s hand as he cried, his fingers carefully opening the box and plucking the dragon from its nest to cradle it gently.

Two years later the newest volunteer entered through the kitchen door of the hospice and went in search of the one that was supposed to train her. As she wandered into the living room, she stopped to admire the large Christmas tree in the corner, her eyes roving over the ornaments. She stepped forward to run a delicate finger over a glass dragon, thinking to herself how out of place it seemed.

She looked up again and saw the memorial board, stepping to it, she noticed the rows of brass plaques with former residents’ names and the dates of their passing engraved on each one. She looked down at the last column and ran her fingers over a plaque that still had the clear plastic covering over it. Reading the unknown name to herself, it meaning nothing to her, then her eyes roaming up to look at others.

Harry J. Potter, 1986

Severus T. Snape, 1984

Draco L. Malfoy, 1983