[Fic] Danger In The Healing 12/25 (R) HP: HP/SS
Title: Danger In The Healing (12/25)
Authors:faynia and stormypup
Rating: R
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Categories: Romance, Action/Adventure
Summary: What if Dumbledore told Harry that he was dying, and what Snape's role was in it all. What if Harry then had to depend on the person he hated most in the world to honor Dumbledore's dying wishes?
Answers Challenge: Written for Wave XII of the Harry/Snape fest , What if… challenge.
Beta'd by rakina
Previous Chapters:
Chapter One
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Harry managed to Apparate them to the drive of 7 Eredite Lane without splinching them, though his head hurt so badly from the effort that he was momentarily afraid he had splinched his brain.
Snape was leaning heavily against him, and with a quick look around, the two of them staggered to the house. Harry couldn't help but notice that Snape's hand was trembling when he removed the key from his pocket. Without saying a word or looking at him, Harry took the key and unlocked the door himself.
Harry made for the nearest sofa and Snape collapsed into it. Harry sat down next to him, his breathing labored. He knew he should get Snape to bed but at the moment he didn't have the energy. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the sofa.
A voice broke his reverie. "What did you do to him, Potter?" Harry's eyes flew open to find Draco's wand pointed at him.
Eyes wide, Harry looked between Draco and Snape. "Malfoy," Harry said, his mouth turning into an angry sneer.
"Leave him alone," Snape growled, opening his eyes to glare at Draco.
Malfoy's eyes widened in shock before narrowing into slits. His wand was still trained right between Harry's eyes, a curse on the tip of his tongue, when Harry suddenly lurched forward and threw up on the floor. It sloshed onto Malfoy's shoes.
Harry groaned holding his stomach with one arm and his forehead with the other as he breathed heavily through his nose. He didn't even have to look over at Snape to know that the man had his arm clenched to his stomach trying to stem the pain from the Mark. His scar was throbbing but the pain was manageable. It was obvious the scaly bastard knew that they had removed Hufflepuff's cup. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the bitter taste in his mouth, in favor of trying to clear his mind. He couldn't let Voldemort know where they were. He had already failed too many times and he didn't want to fail again.
"Five fuckin' minutes," Harry snarled, ignoring Malfoy's outraged expression. The prick deserved the disgust he felt.
Snape's body was taut as a wire, and the pain was excruciating. His body had been through too much in the last twenty-four hours and as hard as he fought it, the blackness finally overwhelmed his senses.
Harry barely had time to grab Snape before he fell off the couch, unconscious. "Help him," he growled at Malfoy, who was watching them, wide eyed.
Draco moved to the couch, grabbing Snape and positioning him back against the sofa. "What's the matter with him?" Draco asked, feeling scared now.
"Voldemort," Harry hissed.
Draco scrambled out of the room and immediately came back in with a bright blue potion.
"Tip his head back," he grunted, without looking at Harry.
Harry scowled but did it. He had no idea what else to do about it. Malfoy seemed to have this situation under better control than he could ever hope to. At this point it wouldn't even matter if he poisoned Snape. They were as good as dead if they so much as left the front door.
Draco was rubbing the vial over Snape's dried, cracking bottom lip trying to coax the unconscious man to open his mouth. Harry couldn't be sure but he swore Malfoy's arm was trembling as he did so.
"Give it here," Harry demanded, holding out his free hand. He gritted his teeth at the incredulous look the blond threw him. "Don't start," he spat, flexing his fingers and silently commanding him.
"Why should I, Potty?" Malfoy sneered, holding the potion away from Snape as he folded his arms over his chest.
"Because he needs to get better!" Harry shouted angrily, green eyes blazing. Malfoy raised an eyebrow and looked ready to say something else when a speculative gleam overtook him. Harry didn't like that look at all. "Malfoy," he said warningly.
"Since when do you give a damn about Snape, Potter?" Malfoy asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Malfoy, give me the potion or I swear to God what I did to you in the bathroom will seem tame," Harry said through clenched teeth, raising his wand and pointing it at Draco.
Draco's eyes widened at the tone in Harry's voice. He thrust the vial into Harry's hand and backed away.
Harry clenched the bottle tightly in his fist warring between hexing Malfoy anyway and the pressing worry for Snape. The older man's face, even unconscious, was twisted and pinched in pain and his hands were clenched into fists. Even in this state, Snape wasn't getting any rest.
Harry sighed softly and brought the vial carefully up to the man's lips rubbing it gently along the lower lip. He wasn't daft enough not to recognize a pain-relieving potion when one was handed to him. Madame Pomfrey had stuffed enough of them down his throat after Quidditch practices that he had actually become accustomed to their bitter aftertaste.
He kneeled next to Snape, and eventually gave up trying to give him the potion from that angle. He slunk off the couch to the floor and with as much grace as he could, maneuvered Snape's unconscious body around so he was lying down. Once again, he brought the bright blue potion to Snape's lips, willing him to open them, just a little. However, even in sleep Snape was a stubborn git.
"Come on, you great git, open up," he muttered in frustration, pressing the vial a bit harder against the man's bottom lip. The lip split open and began to bleed. Harry bowed his head in thought. What could he do now? He looked pensively at the small, thin vial in his hands and pressed his thumb over the top of it before tipping it. The freezing liquid hit the pad of his thumb and Harry righted the glass vessel before bringing his thumb off the top.
"What are you doing, Potter?"
"Malfoy, I suggest you remain quiet," Harry snapped aggressively, not even looking over his shoulder at the irate Slytherin.
He brought his thumb up tremblingly to Snape's face and rubbed the liquid across the man's bottom lip. He watched with avid fascination as Snape's tongue licked his lip and the potion off of it. Harry closed his eyes and sagged in relief. He blocked the top of the vial again and repeated the motion until the entire vial was empty. He sat back on his heels and let out a long breath. Now all he could do was wait.
As Harry leaned back against the couch, he was reminded of his own pain and wished he had another vial of the potion for himself. It would have to wait as well, because he was too tired to move and didn't want to jostle Snape anymore than he had already done. And he wasn't about to ask Malfoy for one.
Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head against the couch cushions, ignoring Draco altogether. His scar was still throbbing, but it wasn't the blinding pain that it had been earlier. Whatever fit Voldemort had thrown, he seemed to be easing up a bit.
Snape's breathing finally began to even out, and Harry found himself relaxing as Snape's body relaxed against him. If Ron could see him now, he'd probably laugh his fool head off. Or be ill. Hard to tell with Ron.
"What the hell happened?" Draco asked, but Harry continued to ignore him. He didn't have the energy to deal with Malfoy on top of everything else.
Harry could hear and feel the change in Snape's breathing as the man began to wake. He knew the moment Snape was fully conscious, because his whole body tensed. The next thing Harry knew, Snape's head was turning his direction and their eyes met.
Harry bit his lower lip, then offered Snape a weak smile, trying to temper the damned blush that was creeping up his neck and threatening to explode on his cheeks.
"Welcome back, sir," he murmured.
Snape blinked and stared at Harry for a long moment, his mind trying to sort through how he had ended up practically in Potter's lap.
"I don't suppose someone wants to tell me what is going on?" Draco asked irritably.
Snape startled and turned his head to face Draco. He suddenly felt like a fifth year caught snogging in the corridor, and hurried to stand. He swayed momentarily and sat heavily on the couch.
"What's he doing here?" Draco asked, scowling at Harry, who scowled right back.
"Shut it, Malfoy, as if it's any of your business," Harry snapped, cracking his knuckles unconsciously. God, he hated Malfoy. He hated his voice, he hated his hair and he sure as hell hated his attitude and he was half tempted to just silence him right then and there.
"It is my bloody business, Scarhead, I was here first."
"Mature, Malfoy; that was a wonderful comeback. With zingers like those, it's a wonder people still talk to you."
Malfoy's eyes narrowed into tiny slits and Harry could almost see his brain begin to smoke as it short-circuited and turned off due to his anger.
"Enough!" Snape growled, turning his glare on the two of them. Both Harry and Draco fell silent, but continued to look at each other with disgust.
"Potter, are you alright?" Snape asked, turning his gaze on Harry. The last thing he remembered was the excruciating pain, and Harry vomiting. At least that had been cleared away.
Harry nodded hesitantly, his head still throbbed but it was more than manageable and nothing that a nap and a cup of hot chocolate wouldn't cure. He glanced over at Malfoy and felt a flush of triumph rush through him at the disappointed expression on the blond's face; Malfoy looked like he'd sucked on a lemon.
"Yes." He noticed that the floor was clean and looked at Malfoy again with a speculative expression. Of course he had cleaned up the floor; the prat had to clean off his shoes and had just done the floor while he was at it.
"Potter, I need to speak with Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, and Harry couldn't help but notice that his voice didn't have its normal strength.
"Uh, sure. Where should I...?" Harry asked, trailing off.
"Kitchen is through there," Snape said, nodding toward the opposing entry way.
Harry nodded and got shakily to his feet. He walked to the kitchen and went through the cupboards until he found one with glasses in it. He got some water from the tap and drank it all down. He sat at the table, resting his head in his hands. Harry couldn't remember the last time he had been this exhausted. He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, Snape was standing over him, shaking him awake.
"M'wake," he slurred, looking up at Snape through blurred vision.
Snape gave him a look of disbelief. Potter looked anything but awake.
"We've still got to destroy the Horcrux," Snape said wearily.
Harry let his head drop to the table and groaned. "Do we have to?"
Snape slid into the chair across from Harry and buried his face in his hands, stringy black hair obscuring his features. "I think I'd rather sleep while the Dark Lord isn't focusing his wrath in my direction," he said humorlessly.
"It's not like he's likely to come here and find us, is it? A nap wouldn't get us killed, would it?"
"I don't know," Snape replied, his exhaustion making him open more than he otherwise would. "I'm so tired I can barely think straight. He knows I've betrayed him," he added, thinking aloud. "He must know that we found a Horcrux, and most likely have located others as well. Which means he's probably gathering the remaining ones to him even now." Snape rubbed his face with his hands.
"If he's got the others, there's nothing we can do," Harry said, feeling hopeless. "Even if I do kill him, parts of his soul will still be out, waiting to come back to power."
Snape looked at Harry thoughtfully, an idea forming in his mind. "If the Dark Lord were to fall, there would be nothing to stop us from hunting down the remaining Horcruxes and destroying them, destroying what's left of him," Snape said, his voice taking on a note of excitement. "Once he is dead, the Death Eaters will fall apart; turn on each other to save themselves."
Harry sat up straighter as he began to catch what Snape was getting at.
"So we kill Voldemort first, then worry about the other Horcruxes?" Harry asked.
Snape was nodding slowly. "He could not distract either of us with pain if he were already dead."
"As dead as he'll get anyway," Harry added.
"But it could work. Right now, he's going to be concerned about the other Horcruxes, his focus will be on protecting them. He will expect us to go after them," Snape said, tapping a finger against his chin.
"But we'll be going after Voldemort himself?" Harry asked, both excited and nervous. "What if we fail? If he kills either of us, or both of us? He'll be alive and have his bloody Horcruxes ensuring he stays alive for Merlin knows how long."
Snape looked at Harry and their gazes locked. "If we fail, if you fail, we're all doomed anyway," he said quietly.
They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally coming to a decision, Harry sat up straight, his features set and determined. "So," he said, his voice taking on a hard edge. "When are we going to destroy the snake-faced bastard?"
Next Chapter: Chapter Thirteen
Authors:faynia and stormypup
Rating: R
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Categories: Romance, Action/Adventure
Summary: What if Dumbledore told Harry that he was dying, and what Snape's role was in it all. What if Harry then had to depend on the person he hated most in the world to honor Dumbledore's dying wishes?
Answers Challenge: Written for Wave XII of the Harry/Snape fest , What if… challenge.
Beta'd by rakina
Previous Chapters:
Chapter One
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Harry managed to Apparate them to the drive of 7 Eredite Lane without splinching them, though his head hurt so badly from the effort that he was momentarily afraid he had splinched his brain.
Snape was leaning heavily against him, and with a quick look around, the two of them staggered to the house. Harry couldn't help but notice that Snape's hand was trembling when he removed the key from his pocket. Without saying a word or looking at him, Harry took the key and unlocked the door himself.
Harry made for the nearest sofa and Snape collapsed into it. Harry sat down next to him, his breathing labored. He knew he should get Snape to bed but at the moment he didn't have the energy. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the sofa.
A voice broke his reverie. "What did you do to him, Potter?" Harry's eyes flew open to find Draco's wand pointed at him.
Eyes wide, Harry looked between Draco and Snape. "Malfoy," Harry said, his mouth turning into an angry sneer.
"Leave him alone," Snape growled, opening his eyes to glare at Draco.
Malfoy's eyes widened in shock before narrowing into slits. His wand was still trained right between Harry's eyes, a curse on the tip of his tongue, when Harry suddenly lurched forward and threw up on the floor. It sloshed onto Malfoy's shoes.
Harry groaned holding his stomach with one arm and his forehead with the other as he breathed heavily through his nose. He didn't even have to look over at Snape to know that the man had his arm clenched to his stomach trying to stem the pain from the Mark. His scar was throbbing but the pain was manageable. It was obvious the scaly bastard knew that they had removed Hufflepuff's cup. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the bitter taste in his mouth, in favor of trying to clear his mind. He couldn't let Voldemort know where they were. He had already failed too many times and he didn't want to fail again.
"Five fuckin' minutes," Harry snarled, ignoring Malfoy's outraged expression. The prick deserved the disgust he felt.
Snape's body was taut as a wire, and the pain was excruciating. His body had been through too much in the last twenty-four hours and as hard as he fought it, the blackness finally overwhelmed his senses.
Harry barely had time to grab Snape before he fell off the couch, unconscious. "Help him," he growled at Malfoy, who was watching them, wide eyed.
Draco moved to the couch, grabbing Snape and positioning him back against the sofa. "What's the matter with him?" Draco asked, feeling scared now.
"Voldemort," Harry hissed.
Draco scrambled out of the room and immediately came back in with a bright blue potion.
"Tip his head back," he grunted, without looking at Harry.
Harry scowled but did it. He had no idea what else to do about it. Malfoy seemed to have this situation under better control than he could ever hope to. At this point it wouldn't even matter if he poisoned Snape. They were as good as dead if they so much as left the front door.
Draco was rubbing the vial over Snape's dried, cracking bottom lip trying to coax the unconscious man to open his mouth. Harry couldn't be sure but he swore Malfoy's arm was trembling as he did so.
"Give it here," Harry demanded, holding out his free hand. He gritted his teeth at the incredulous look the blond threw him. "Don't start," he spat, flexing his fingers and silently commanding him.
"Why should I, Potty?" Malfoy sneered, holding the potion away from Snape as he folded his arms over his chest.
"Because he needs to get better!" Harry shouted angrily, green eyes blazing. Malfoy raised an eyebrow and looked ready to say something else when a speculative gleam overtook him. Harry didn't like that look at all. "Malfoy," he said warningly.
"Since when do you give a damn about Snape, Potter?" Malfoy asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Malfoy, give me the potion or I swear to God what I did to you in the bathroom will seem tame," Harry said through clenched teeth, raising his wand and pointing it at Draco.
Draco's eyes widened at the tone in Harry's voice. He thrust the vial into Harry's hand and backed away.
Harry clenched the bottle tightly in his fist warring between hexing Malfoy anyway and the pressing worry for Snape. The older man's face, even unconscious, was twisted and pinched in pain and his hands were clenched into fists. Even in this state, Snape wasn't getting any rest.
Harry sighed softly and brought the vial carefully up to the man's lips rubbing it gently along the lower lip. He wasn't daft enough not to recognize a pain-relieving potion when one was handed to him. Madame Pomfrey had stuffed enough of them down his throat after Quidditch practices that he had actually become accustomed to their bitter aftertaste.
He kneeled next to Snape, and eventually gave up trying to give him the potion from that angle. He slunk off the couch to the floor and with as much grace as he could, maneuvered Snape's unconscious body around so he was lying down. Once again, he brought the bright blue potion to Snape's lips, willing him to open them, just a little. However, even in sleep Snape was a stubborn git.
"Come on, you great git, open up," he muttered in frustration, pressing the vial a bit harder against the man's bottom lip. The lip split open and began to bleed. Harry bowed his head in thought. What could he do now? He looked pensively at the small, thin vial in his hands and pressed his thumb over the top of it before tipping it. The freezing liquid hit the pad of his thumb and Harry righted the glass vessel before bringing his thumb off the top.
"What are you doing, Potter?"
"Malfoy, I suggest you remain quiet," Harry snapped aggressively, not even looking over his shoulder at the irate Slytherin.
He brought his thumb up tremblingly to Snape's face and rubbed the liquid across the man's bottom lip. He watched with avid fascination as Snape's tongue licked his lip and the potion off of it. Harry closed his eyes and sagged in relief. He blocked the top of the vial again and repeated the motion until the entire vial was empty. He sat back on his heels and let out a long breath. Now all he could do was wait.
As Harry leaned back against the couch, he was reminded of his own pain and wished he had another vial of the potion for himself. It would have to wait as well, because he was too tired to move and didn't want to jostle Snape anymore than he had already done. And he wasn't about to ask Malfoy for one.
Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head against the couch cushions, ignoring Draco altogether. His scar was still throbbing, but it wasn't the blinding pain that it had been earlier. Whatever fit Voldemort had thrown, he seemed to be easing up a bit.
Snape's breathing finally began to even out, and Harry found himself relaxing as Snape's body relaxed against him. If Ron could see him now, he'd probably laugh his fool head off. Or be ill. Hard to tell with Ron.
"What the hell happened?" Draco asked, but Harry continued to ignore him. He didn't have the energy to deal with Malfoy on top of everything else.
Harry could hear and feel the change in Snape's breathing as the man began to wake. He knew the moment Snape was fully conscious, because his whole body tensed. The next thing Harry knew, Snape's head was turning his direction and their eyes met.
Harry bit his lower lip, then offered Snape a weak smile, trying to temper the damned blush that was creeping up his neck and threatening to explode on his cheeks.
"Welcome back, sir," he murmured.
Snape blinked and stared at Harry for a long moment, his mind trying to sort through how he had ended up practically in Potter's lap.
"I don't suppose someone wants to tell me what is going on?" Draco asked irritably.
Snape startled and turned his head to face Draco. He suddenly felt like a fifth year caught snogging in the corridor, and hurried to stand. He swayed momentarily and sat heavily on the couch.
"What's he doing here?" Draco asked, scowling at Harry, who scowled right back.
"Shut it, Malfoy, as if it's any of your business," Harry snapped, cracking his knuckles unconsciously. God, he hated Malfoy. He hated his voice, he hated his hair and he sure as hell hated his attitude and he was half tempted to just silence him right then and there.
"It is my bloody business, Scarhead, I was here first."
"Mature, Malfoy; that was a wonderful comeback. With zingers like those, it's a wonder people still talk to you."
Malfoy's eyes narrowed into tiny slits and Harry could almost see his brain begin to smoke as it short-circuited and turned off due to his anger.
"Enough!" Snape growled, turning his glare on the two of them. Both Harry and Draco fell silent, but continued to look at each other with disgust.
"Potter, are you alright?" Snape asked, turning his gaze on Harry. The last thing he remembered was the excruciating pain, and Harry vomiting. At least that had been cleared away.
Harry nodded hesitantly, his head still throbbed but it was more than manageable and nothing that a nap and a cup of hot chocolate wouldn't cure. He glanced over at Malfoy and felt a flush of triumph rush through him at the disappointed expression on the blond's face; Malfoy looked like he'd sucked on a lemon.
"Yes." He noticed that the floor was clean and looked at Malfoy again with a speculative expression. Of course he had cleaned up the floor; the prat had to clean off his shoes and had just done the floor while he was at it.
"Potter, I need to speak with Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, and Harry couldn't help but notice that his voice didn't have its normal strength.
"Uh, sure. Where should I...?" Harry asked, trailing off.
"Kitchen is through there," Snape said, nodding toward the opposing entry way.
Harry nodded and got shakily to his feet. He walked to the kitchen and went through the cupboards until he found one with glasses in it. He got some water from the tap and drank it all down. He sat at the table, resting his head in his hands. Harry couldn't remember the last time he had been this exhausted. He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, Snape was standing over him, shaking him awake.
"M'wake," he slurred, looking up at Snape through blurred vision.
Snape gave him a look of disbelief. Potter looked anything but awake.
"We've still got to destroy the Horcrux," Snape said wearily.
Harry let his head drop to the table and groaned. "Do we have to?"
Snape slid into the chair across from Harry and buried his face in his hands, stringy black hair obscuring his features. "I think I'd rather sleep while the Dark Lord isn't focusing his wrath in my direction," he said humorlessly.
"It's not like he's likely to come here and find us, is it? A nap wouldn't get us killed, would it?"
"I don't know," Snape replied, his exhaustion making him open more than he otherwise would. "I'm so tired I can barely think straight. He knows I've betrayed him," he added, thinking aloud. "He must know that we found a Horcrux, and most likely have located others as well. Which means he's probably gathering the remaining ones to him even now." Snape rubbed his face with his hands.
"If he's got the others, there's nothing we can do," Harry said, feeling hopeless. "Even if I do kill him, parts of his soul will still be out, waiting to come back to power."
Snape looked at Harry thoughtfully, an idea forming in his mind. "If the Dark Lord were to fall, there would be nothing to stop us from hunting down the remaining Horcruxes and destroying them, destroying what's left of him," Snape said, his voice taking on a note of excitement. "Once he is dead, the Death Eaters will fall apart; turn on each other to save themselves."
Harry sat up straighter as he began to catch what Snape was getting at.
"So we kill Voldemort first, then worry about the other Horcruxes?" Harry asked.
Snape was nodding slowly. "He could not distract either of us with pain if he were already dead."
"As dead as he'll get anyway," Harry added.
"But it could work. Right now, he's going to be concerned about the other Horcruxes, his focus will be on protecting them. He will expect us to go after them," Snape said, tapping a finger against his chin.
"But we'll be going after Voldemort himself?" Harry asked, both excited and nervous. "What if we fail? If he kills either of us, or both of us? He'll be alive and have his bloody Horcruxes ensuring he stays alive for Merlin knows how long."
Snape looked at Harry and their gazes locked. "If we fail, if you fail, we're all doomed anyway," he said quietly.
They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally coming to a decision, Harry sat up straight, his features set and determined. "So," he said, his voice taking on a hard edge. "When are we going to destroy the snake-faced bastard?"
Next Chapter: Chapter Thirteen