Third Place - Romance

Snape got very little done over the next few hours, as Harry napped. He couldn't remember having opened up to someone so much since... in fact he could never remember opening up to someone this much. Perhaps it was because he and the boy seemed to share the same pain. As he had explained himself to Harry, something he had never stooped to do for anyone else, he had seen true empathy in those eyes. It had moved him more than he cared to admit.

There was no way that Harry could go back to Gryffindor Tower, look what a few days of staying with them had done to him. The little voice inside his head asked if Harry would be so much better off with him, when he was the one who had pushed the boy into cutting again. He told it angrily that it had been a mistake, an accident. He reminded it that during the holidays, Harry had been improving markedly, and it was with the start of school that he had appeared to withdraw again. His inner voice conceded the point, but told him to be nice to the boy. There was little point in arguing with himself when that was his plan anyway.

He reached for a book and ignored the further grumblings of his inner voice. What did it know anyway? He would have to talk to Albus, and explain that he thought Harry needed a few days without the pressures of the world surrounding him. Severus wouldn't be able to leave him alone though, so he would have to cancel his classes. He really didn't want to do that. He glanced back at the bed.

Harry needed him.

He would cancel the classes.

He was just contemplating waking Harry up to eat when Albus walked through the door. It really irritated him that Albus never knocked, and never seemed to need passwords. It was however, convenient that he had shown up just when Severus needed to speak to him. Unless that was why he had come. That would be another annoying example of the Headmaster's tendency of knowing everything. Which had been sadly lacking in respect to Harry's person recently.

"Severus," the Headmaster greeted him. He merely nodded in acknowledgement, trying to be quiet as he wanted to allow the boy as much rest as possible. He saw Harry stir from the corner of his eye and knew that his hope was in vain.

"Severus, Voldemort's attack has started." The urgent tone of Albus' voice suddenly made sense, and Snape felt every muscle in his body tense in anticipation of what would come next. "I'm leading a team out there now. I need you to stay here and watch Harry." Severus felt his face darken with his mood. "Now, Severus, this is not done merely to stop you from going. I honestly need you to take care of Harry." The Headmaster's voice turned sad. "I doubt that there is anyone else who can anymore. He can stay with you until further notice."

Albus turned to leave. As he passed through the door, he said, "And yes, I will come to you as soon as I get back."

Severus was peripherally aware of Harry getting out of bed and walking up behind him, but was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't react.

A hand tugging lightly on his sleeve brought his attention back to the present. Back to Harry. Who was looking at him timidly, but stayed where he was as Snape's gaze swung round to fix on him.

"Are you alright sir?"

Severus, though frustrated by how the Headmaster managed it, was very rarely surprised himself. Harry seemed to be very skilled at getting past his guard.

He couldn't recall the last time someone had inquired after his well-being, except for Albus, and that was always in a 'you are the only spy we have, did they cripple you too badly or can you go on' way. Why was Harry being so nice to him after the way that he had behaved to him, after the pain he had caused him?

"Yes." That sounded woefully inadequate. "Thank you. Would you like something to eat?"

His tactic at trying to divert the boy's attention seemed to work, for Harry's nose scrunched up in distaste and he muttered that he wasn't hungry.

Snape merely raised an eyebrow. Just who was in charge round here?

Harry surrendered, though with ill grace. Severus thought that sitting at the table might be off-putting, and he wanted to keep the formality to a minimum, to encourage Harry to trust him again, so they ate on the couch. Sandwiches, crisps and salad. Then cookies. Snape had rightly guessed that such food would go down better than soup. Pomfrey's insistence of feeding everyone, no matter what the injury, with soup, brought about bad associations. And Harry really needed to eat.

He sensed that Harry didn't feel like talking, so they sat and read for a while, Sylrissin's sporadic hissing the only sound interrupting them. Severus felt himself becoming restless. He wanted to know what was going on out there!

For the first time ever he felt as though he were trapped in the dungeons. He needed to look out of a window, even though the events he longed to see were hundreds of miles away; he had never felt so disconnected from the world.

Harry seemed to notice the change in Severus' mood, for he looked up, and placed his book aside, indicating his willingness to talk, though obviously still too shy, and sceptical about trusting in Snape's changed attitude, to risk initiating a conversation.

Severus smiled at him. "Would you like to play chess?"

Harry nodded readily, then paused in thought. "I'm not really any good though," he said hesitantly.

"Then I can help you improve."

Snape went into his bedroom and found his old chess set in the cupboard. It was dusty. It was so long since he had had anyone to play with, Albus always used his own board, and he always won. Severus was convinced he cheated.

He watched how Harry handled the ancient and beautifully carved pieces with awe, until one of the knights snapped at him and started making suggestive comments about why he was playing with the pawns. Harry blushed bright red, and hastily replaced the piece on the board.

"Don't mind them," Severus said, just managing to keep his laughter in check. He offered Harry the choice of colours, and they started.

Harry really wasn't any good at chess. Even though Snape was distracted by thoughts of the battle he was easily beating him. Giving the boy tips to help him win was against Severus' nature, but he tried. Sylrissin was evidently trying too, for she was continuously talking to Harry.

Snape became so lost in listening to their conversation, that he made a careless move, and left his queen open to attack. Harry didn't notice, and was about to move somewhere else, when the silver snake started hissing to him again. He looked down at her, then at the board. Then he took Snape's queen.

Severus could still the win game of course. But it was unlike him to make such a mistake. He could blame it on the worry about the fighting, but...

"What is it like?"

Harry seemed surprised at the question, and his face took on a puzzled look.

"Parseltongue, I mean," Severus clarified. "What is it like being a Parselmouth?"

Harry appeared to think for a moment. Snape waited for an internal comment on how rare an occurrence Harry ever thinking was, but wasn't entirely surprised when it didn't come. Maybe that kind of reaction in him vanished with Potter?

"I don't know. I didn't even know I was speaking a different language until Hermione and Ron told me so. I thought everyone could do it. It just comes naturally."

Severus was forcefully reminded of the boy's upbringing. That he could have been so ignorant of so many things in the wizarding world was astonishing. He had been as ignorant as a Muggle. Yet managed to get along fine anyway.

"So it sounds just like someone talking to you in English?"

"Well, sort of. There are faint undertones of something. Ummm. I suppose I can hear hissing overlaid on top of the words, but I don't notice it so much. It's kind of hard to explain."

Snape nodded, accepting this, then used the opportunity to try and casually bring up a subject which had been bothering him for some time.

"I'm somewhat surprised that the Sorting Hat didn't place you in Slytherin, considering your talents."

Harry shrugged, uncertainty playing over his features. "Well, it wanted to. It said I would do well in Slytherin. It said that being in Slytherin would help me to greatness."

"So why aren't you in Slytherin then?"

"I asked it not to put me there." A small sigh, then, less audibly, "Sometimes I think I made the wrong choice."

"My house not good enough for you then?" was the wry question.

"No," said hurriedly, "It wasn't that. Or maybe it was. See, all I had heard about, from Hagrid and Ron, was how awful it was, and how every wizard that went dark came from Slytherin. How Voldemort came from Slytherin. And I'd just learned... that he had killed my parents. I wanted to think that my parents would have been proud of me. They were in Gryffindor. So I thought it was a good place to be. And Ron had said he thought he was going to be there. And he was my first friend."

That was the most the boy had said all day. At least he seemed to be relaxing, even if the subject wasn't one he seemed entirely comfortable with. So, Harry had gone into Gryffindor to please others, rather than himself. It was the sort of thing he would do. And it had led to the Potter persona.

"Why do you think you made the wrong choice?"

"I don't know. I suppose I don't think that. Gryffindor's great." A few moments of silence. "There are just some things that they don't seem to understand, like we exist on two completely different levels, as though there's a chasm between us that stops us from communicating properly. Sometimes I think that they don't understand me at all."

"Like now," Severus said in understanding. "What you are going through is not something that they could relate to. Yes, you might have done better in Slytherin after all."

Sylrissin hissed loudly. They both turned to see what was wrong with her. She bared her fangs and reared up. Severus was so busy considering her odd behaviour that he almost missed it when Harry slumped in his chair. He turned back, and was just reaching out to the boy when Harry started screaming. Snape drew back automatically, then pulled himself together and leaned in. It sounded like one of Harry's visions, but he had been awake a second ago.

He pulled Harry's hair aside. The scar was streaming with blood.

And Harry's eyes were open.

Severus nearly flinched away again in shock, but controlled himself. He held Harry's hand tightly with one of his own while he used the other to wipe away the blood before it could run into the boy's eyes. There had never been so much blood before.

Abruptly, Harry's eyes rolled back in his head, and he fainted.

Snape picked up the prone body and carried him to the bed. He needed to talk to Albus about this, and fast. He was in front of the fireplace when he remembered where the Headmaster was. He growled to himself and went back to tend to Harry. He grabbed a wet cloth, and wiped away the blood from Harry's forehead.

He dropped the cloth on the floor as his fingers became numb.

Harry's scar was gone.

He pulled up his own sleeve, and saw that the dark mark was rapidly fading. He could feel it tingling slightly, but hadn't noticed before in his concern for Harry's state.

Harry's scar was gone. The dark mark was gone. But that meant....

Albus walked in the door, looking haggard and weary. Snape looked up at him, disbelieving even the evidence of his own eyes.

The Headmaster seemed to know exactly what he was thinking though.

"Yes, Severus," he said gently. "Voldemort is dead."

How could that be? Snape felt the world spin slightly at the sheer shock which overwhelmed him. Dead.

Voldemort was dead.

Albus continued, somewhat less triumphantly, "And so is the man who killed him. Severus..."

Snape had a sudden premonition. He sank to the floor. "No!" he whispered.

"Severus, it was Simion. He is dead. I am so sorry, my dear boy"

And so Voldemort was dead.

Harry woke and felt as though he couldn't possibly move again. Ever. All of his muscles were unresponsive. For a long while he drifted. Then his last vision came back to haunt him. Voldemort had died. He had seen Voldemort die. He had been Voldemort as he had died, and the pain had been excruciating.

It was so strange to think of his arch-nemesis being dead. Ever since he had become aware of the existence of the wizarding world, he had been indoctrinated with the idea that since he had, for a reason which really had nothing to do with his own abilities, defeated Voldemort once, he was the one meant to do it again. Instead, it had been his blood in the forth year which had let Voldemort return.

And now Voldemort was dead. By someone else's wand.

So Harry wouldn't be expected to save anyone now. They would all leave him alone. Unless they were all disappointed that he hadn't been the one to do it. But he was just a boy! Just Harry! How could he have possibly defeated Voldemort?

Maybe Colin Creevy at least would finally stop following him around.

He persuaded his eyelids to open.

He stared at the ceiling for a long while. Then he rolled his head to one side. Professor Snape was sitting in a chair nearby, his head had lolled forward to rest on his chest. He was asleep. Harry had never seen Snape sleeping, he was the sort of person who never let down his guard in public, but now, when asleep, he seemed softer somehow.

He turned his head back to it's previous position and patterns of silver danced briefly before his eyes. Slyrissin hissed at him. At first he thought that it was just for dramatic effect, or punctuation, or something, but as she continued he realised that she was talking. And that he couldn't understand her.

A tear rolled down his cheek. He had lost her too then. With the death of Voldemort the link had been severed and he could no longer understand Parseltongue. A wave of misery swept over him, was everything in his life tainted by Voldemort?

The hissing came back, louder. There was a rhythm to it, a certain cadence. He could almost anticipate the next word. There were distinct sounds, Harry just couldn't make them out. He concentrated. Sylrissin seemed to be repeating the same thing over and over. He tried saying the syllables. They sounded foreign. He tried again. Her hissing became exaggerated and slow. He tasted the words on his tongue. He drew them out.

The first thing he recognised her say was his name. It sounded so different in the snake-language. He was encouraged, and paid more attention. It almost made sense. He knew what she was trying to say, but found that the actual words escaped him. He knew that she was saying 'Harry, you can do this', but he knew that in his head rather than through his ears. The repetition began to annoy him, she was assuming it was easy, and her tone of voice was so patronising.

"I can't!" he cried in frustration. Then stopped in astonishment.

It had come out in Parseltongue. Sylrissin looked at him in pride.

"I knew you could, you just needed to know it too. Now that the powers of darkness are not binding you and overriding your own, your latent talent has come through. But since you have never used it yourself before, just leeched off the dark man's, you had to adjust to the change in source."

"I thought that I'd lost it," Harry breathed.

"No, little man-snake. You will always have what is yours."

Harry hated cryptic commentary.

"Are you alright, little master?" she asked. She had never called him master before.

"Yes, thank you."

He ached all over actually, and could still feel the residues of the pain of Voldemort dying flitting through his body. But it was fading. Slowly. It would be fine.

And Voldemort was dead.

He was still talking to Slyrissin when Snape woke. He saw the movement of black and shifted slightly so that the potion's master was within his field of view. Snape was watching him.

"Still talking, Harry?" Snape smiled.

Harry smiled back. Maybe the world wasn't such a bad place after all.

"Yes, sir."

Snape got up and stretched to ease the muscles which must have become cramped during his time in that awkward position. Harry's smile widened into a grin to see his professor acting so relaxed.

Harry tried to move, to get up, but Snape was by his side in an instant.

"Stop right there, young man," he said in a commanding tone. "You fainted yesterday, or don't you remember?"

"Voldemort died?" Harry asked timidly, suddenly afraid that it would be untrue.

"Yes." Snape confirmed. "Voldemort was killed." He reached out and stroked his hand over Harry's forehead. "Your scar is gone."

Harry reached up a hand and tentatively ran his own fingers over the smooth skin. There was nothing there. It was really gone. Voldemort was really gone.

"I saw it," he whispered. "I felt it."

Harry shuddered, and when he looked up he could practically see the effort it was taking Snape not to ask him about it. It was still too near, and he did not feel ready to speak of it.

"Where is everyone?" was his next question. Or did they not wish to see him now that he was no longer important in the grand scheme of things?

Some of his insecurity must have come out in his voice, for Snape gave him a reassuring smile. "School has been suspended. The students have gone home to stay with their families." Harry had no family. Where would he be going? If the Headmaster had not let him stay here at Christmas, then he probably would not now. "To celebrate, and to mourn. It was a hard battle." Harry looked up and Snape nodded in confirmation. "Yes, many were lost. The remaining death eaters are being rounded up even now, which is where the Headmaster is."

What was going to happen to him? He couldn't go back to the Dursley's, they were in prison. Not that he'd want to. And who else would have him? Maybe he would stay at Hogwarts after all.

"Arrangements have been made for you to stay here."

Harry nodded his head distractedly. He would be staying in the Tower by himself then? That could get lonely. Though perhaps having only Sylrissin for company would be better than having to deal with the rest of the Gryffindors.

"So if you want to bring all of your belongings down and get settled in today, that's fine. I'm unsure of how long it will be until the school is reopened."

Harry had taken in only one thing from that whole speech. "Here?" he squeaked, absolutely flabbergasted. "You want me to stay here? Why?"

Why would he want to have Harry around? Maybe the Headmaster was forcing him to do so. Snape sighed. Harry definitely thought that his professor was being coerced into this now.

"I asked the Headmaster if you could say here." Harry told himself firmly to shut his mouth, but apparently his body was out of his control. "I thought it would be a good idea if I kept an eye on you." So, Snape thought he would try to commit suicide again. And this whole caring attitude was engendered by the guilt of shouting at Harry right before he had cut himself. "I've also noticed that you've been showing a great deal of promise in potions recently, now that you're trying, and have had some expert tuition. I thought perhaps I could instruct you further, and help you develop your talent?"

Harry could do nothing but stare at him. Snape thought that he was showing promise? Snape thought that he had talent?

This was all some sort of huge joke wasn't it?

"We will start with lessons later, but if you would bring down your things first, and place them in an organised fashion. I will not have you cluttering up my rooms."

"Ummm, sir? I don't really have anything. Dumbledore lent me an old robe of his, and I'm not sure where my wand is, but otherwise..."

Harry thought he saw pity on Snape's face. He felt a flash of anger. He hated it when people pitied him. He was about to turn away when Snape spoke. Harry certainly couldn't hear any pity in his voice, just practicality.

"Right, well I have your wand here, and you can wear one of the Slytherin spare robes for now. That will be easiest."

Harry nodded. He was just happy that he would finally be getting out of the hospital pyjamas. He seemed to have spent a disproportionate amount of his life in them. And wanted to stop doing so as soon as possible.

He got changed in the bathroom, and pondered over whether or not he could discreetly throw the pyjamas in the fire without Snape noticing. He went back out into the living room.

Snape looked up from his book. He seemed pleased. "Those hospital clothes were an eyesore."

Harry laughed. There was no edge to it, no hysteria, no hidden depression. He had, for those few seconds, forgotten all else in his amusement at finding that the Potions professor shared Harry's taste. And distaste. His sense of mischief uncurled from where it had been hidden.

"Can I burn them, sir?"

He saw a twinkle in Snape's eyes, somewhat similar to the one which Dumbledore possessed. "Now, we couldn't do that, and besides, I'm certain that Madame Pomfrey would have placed a charm on them to stop patients relieving stress by incinerating their clothing."

Harry snorted. "I just know I'd feel better if I watched the damn things turn to ash," he muttered.

It was Snape who laughed this time.

As they went into the lab later, Snape said "You can carry on using the school supplies for now, as you have been doing, but if you're going to take this seriously then you will need to get your own ingredients. We could go to Diagon Alley in the next couple of days, and you can pick up anything else you need as well."

Harry opened his mouth to say that he wasn't allowed to, that the Headmaster had informed him it wasn't safe for him to leave at all. And then it hit him. Voldemort was dead. He halted. His mind still couldn't quite wrap around the concept.

Noticing that Harry had stopped, Snape turned.

"Harry? Is something wrong?"

"Voldemort's dead." The words felt so impossible as he uttered them. "Voldemort's dead." It was true. His whole life would change.

Snape's eyes became kind. "I know," he murmured.

He took Harry by the arm and steered him into the lab. Harry was all to happy to be distracted from his overwhelming thoughts.

Harry found the methodical chopping and stirring very calming. He thought that Snape watching his every move wasn't so off putting when he knew that the professor would not criticise his mistakes but rather explain them. His head cleared, and the lovely minty smell of the plant growth potion soothed his troubled mind.

"Why did you come down here the other night?"

The question surprised Harry, and he had to think for a moment. "I had a nightmare, and Professor Lupin died in it. I thought it was real until I was almost in the dungeons, then I realised I had run out of dreamless sleep potion. So I came to get some more. I was too afraid to go back to sleep. I didn't want to see anyone else die."

Snape took some of the potion in question out of the storage cupboard and placed it on the table. "It's just as well that you will no longer be having visions, as I was having little luck finding a counter agent."

No more visions! Harry hadn't even thought of that. He might actually be able to sleep at night now. He was almost used to waking up screaming. But it seemed that the vision of Voldemort's death would be the last. Which was good, he didn't think that he could handle anymore like that. He had actually been a part of Voldemort, had felt his hate. Had seen through his eyes. Had seen...

"Your brother in law, what did he look like," Harry spoke in a far away voice, as the memories flooded through him. "I think I saw him. I think I saw everything..."

Snape was staring at him, stunned.

Flawed Lines - Chapter 13

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