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Young At Heart	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 15428 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and am not making any money off of it. If I did , Snape would have gotten laid - often and repeatedly.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-Epilogue
- 14
- 15
- 16
Chapter 15

Harry sprung to his feet when the Healer came out of the room. He'd
done so every time he heard footsteps...for the past three days.
Nobody knew anything. Nobody would tell him anything. From the
moment he'd heard the sirens while waiting for Severus, he just knew.
Something was very, very wrong. He'd spent the first day blaming
himself for not being there to stop him from doing anything stupid.
The second day he'd blamed Snape for being a brilliant, but intensely
reckless, prat. Now it was day three and he was offering his wand
arm to any deity that would listen if they could just please, please!
make Snape be okay. He couldn't bear the thought of losing him. Not
again. Not ever.

His friends had taken to sitting with him in shifts, trying to get
him to sleep, offering coffee and sweets. When Seamus unwittingly
showed up with licorice wands, Harry had actually burst into tears.
Apparently the entire wizarding world knew about his relationship
with Snape, because Luna had dropped off a boquet of gurdyroot (It's
the thought that counts, really...) and Charlie had owled, sending
his best wishes. Ron had just gone an hour ago – in desperate
need of a few hours of sleep in an actual bed, and Ginny had come to
take over what Harry had bitterly named the suicide-watch. Oliver
had come with her, giving Harry a consolatory pat on the shoulder.
He claimed it was just that it would look 'a bit off' if Snape woke
up to find Harry conked out in his ex-girlfriend's lap, but Harry
knew Oliver was just being the supportive sort. He'd always been
like that. Harry didn't think he'd want to leave his new girl
alone with her ex either, personally, and didn't hold any grudges if
that was part of the reason Oliver had taken on the lofty duty of
refilling the teacups every twenty minutes or so.

And that is exactly what Oliver was doing, with Ginny half-asleep
with her head on his lap, when the healer came out and Harry jolted
to his feet. He swallowed a lump in his throat. The healer let out a
breath he didn't seem to realize he'd been holding. “Mr.
Potter...”

“Just tell me how bad it is,” Harry blurted. “It's
bad, isn't it?” It was all he could do to not reach out and
shake the healer demanding 'just tell me, dammit!' like some lunatic,
when it had only been three seconds since the man had said 'Mr.
Potter' – but it had been the longest three seconds of his life
thank you very much!

“Perhaps you should sit,” the Healer suggested. The look
in his eyes implied he was about to suggest a calming solution or a
very strong sedative while he was at it.

“I don't want to bloody sit!” Harry insisted. “I've
been sitting for three fucking days, waiting for you
people to tell me something.”

“As far as we can tell, there is nothing physically wrong with
Mr. Snape,” the Healer barreled forward through Harry's obvious
relief. “But he won't wake.” The 'but' instantly
deflated Harry.

“What do you mean, 'won't wake'?”

“Exactly as I've said, Mr. Potter. His physical condition
seems to be good, better than good, really. His internal organs are
in excellent condition, far better than they ought to be for a man of
his age, to be quite honest. It would be rather miraculous, except
that, for reasons we have not been able to deduce, he simply will not
wake up. We expect the problem may be within his mind and have
called in a specialist in mental trauma, but unfortunately, she is
rather deeply involved in another matter at the moment and will not
be able to arrive until next week. Until then, we can only wait.”

Each word dampened Harry's mood further. Something wrong with the
body was so much easier to treat than something wrong with the mind –
even he knew that much. And now the healer wanted him to wait?
Didn't he understand how long he'd been waiting for Snape in
the first place? It felt like forever. He clenched and unclenched
his fists a few times, trying to remain calm.

“I must advise, Mr. Potter, that you go home, rest. I can
prescribe something to help you sleep...”

“Can I see him?” Harry asked abruptly, ignoring the
Healer's so-called advice.

'Seeing him,' even the Healer could tell, was what Harry needed most.
It wasn't as if Harry's obvious state of sleep-deprived agitation
would bother a man who was, for all intents and purposes, comatose
anyway. “Alright,” the Healer replied. “For a
little while.”

Harry nodded eagerly. When he pushed open the door, all Harry could
see was his boyfriend, peacefully asleep. It seemed impossible that
nothing would wake him. It had only been three days, and he'd been
through an ordeal. Maybe he was just really tired. They hadn't
tried hard enough was all. It didn't phase Harry at all as he pulled
a chair up to the bed and took Severus' warm hand in his own that it
was the hand of a thirty-eight year old man rather than a sixteen
year old boy. To Harry, it was the hand of the person he loved.
Anything beyond that simply wasn't relevant. “If you don't
wake up soon, Severus Snape, I'll never forgive you,” he said,
brushing his lips over the pale knuckles. 'A world without
you...isn't a world I want to live in.'

**

Time didn't seem to have any meaning. Whether seconds or hours or
years had passed, Severus honestly didn't know. But as he stood
there holding his heart in his hand, he realized that standing here
holding his heart in his hand also didn't have any meaning.
The only thing in this black world that meant anything was the
Mirror. Finishing the mirror. Everything but Erised was a void. And
the mirror, surely, was only an echo of reality and not reality
itself. Because it was the only act he could perform, and because he
hated leaving things half finished, Severus carefully placed the
jagged, heart-shaped piece in place. The fissures glowed and
dissipated and the vision the mirror provided was, of course, Harry
Potter. He was asleep with his head buried in his hands, lying next
to someone. It looked as if he were in the hospital. (For the life
of him, Severus couldn't figure out why a hospital would have
anything to do with his innermost desires.) He didn't know who the
person was. He could only see the vague outline of legs and feet
under a thin blue blanket. He vaguely wished that someone was him.
If he were laying next to Harry – who looked upset even in his
sleep – he'd reach up and gently pet his ridiculously mussed
hair, at least until he thought he might get caught. But he was
right, certainly. This couldn't really be the mirror of his desires,
because if it was then Harry wouldn't look so drawn. He wouldn't have
dark rings beneath his eyes, and his lips wouldn't be tightly pinched
as if in the throes of a nightmare. He felt the unquenchable urge to
reach up and run a hand along his cheek. His fingers passed through
the glass like ripples in a pond and the blackness surrounding him
seemed to recede. He reached his fingers up, finding his arm
somewhat leaden with the effort to move, and brushed the back of his
knuckles over his beloved's cheek, only the once. He blinked.
'Where am I?'

Harry startled awake to find Severus lying there, staring at him as
if he were a figment of his imagination, with the most perplexed
expression on his face. His green eyes widened comically –
Severus might have nearly laughed, if he could shake off the
bleariness of his week-long slumber – and Harry suddenly
launched at him. Hands caressed the greasy hair, lips pressed to the
wrinkled brow. “Oh thank Merlin,” Harry exhaled heavily,
pulling Snape's stagnant body up into a tight embrace.

Severus felt dizzy. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew it
was happening far too quickly. And wasn't this the man he'd only
just seen snogging his supposedly ex-girlfriend in the alley? Okay,
that was a bit of an exaggeration. He brought his hand up to
rub over his face, finding it age-lined and not the young man that
Harry had seemed, at the very least, fond of molesting. 'The
potion. Of course. I had no idea it would affect me so...' It
was just a general drowsiness though, and as he slowly sifted into
consciousness he realized his limbs gradually seemed to grow lighter.
But he was still dizzy and Harry was still clinging about his
shoulders as if he were afraid Snape was going to evaporate, pressing
tiny kisses to whatever his lips were nearest at the time – a
shoulder through the hospital robes, his neck (which felt entirely
too nice, all said)...

“For pity's sake, Harry, let go. Are you trying to strangle
me?” His voice was far hoarser than he felt it ought to be.

Harry released the older man and gave him a good whack on the arm.
“I ought to!” he declared fervently. “You had me
worried sick, you reckless git! Why didn't you tell me you'd
finished the potion? You should have tested it!”

Snape had his own slew of complaints for Harry, but for the moment
defending himself took precedent. “Of course I tested it!”
he snapped. “I'm not a fool.”

“You were unconscious for a week!” Harry
protested. “You didn't test it enough!”

“It worked, didn't it? And besides that, what do you care?
Shouldn't you be shagging your little girlfriend rather than
accosting me?”

Harry blinked and tilted his head, blatantly perplexed. “Shagging
my...what?” What in the hell was Severus going on about now?

Severus sneered because sneering was better than showing any outward
display of the hurt coiled in the pit of his stomach that was no
dimmer than it had been when he'd first seen the kiss even though he
was no longer a teenager. “Weren't counting on getting caught,
were you?” he seethed.

“Getting caught doing what? Did you hit your head or something?
I think your potion added a few memories of things that never
happened, or something. You're confused.”

“I am not confused!” Snape spat. “I saw you
leave the Forbidden Fruit together. I saw her kiss you. I
saw how happy you were about it. Do not try your hand at lying now,
Potter. You've never had any talent for it.”

Harry's jaw dropped. He'd always known Snape was brilliant and a
sneak, but he'd never realized how those two things could combine to
create such an idiot before this precise moment. He could only blink
and stare for an extended period before blanketing, “You're a
bloody git, you know that, don't you? Did turning sixteen make you
forget to check your facts before accusing people of shite?”
Harry commented, unceremoniously pulling himself up to straddle
Severus' lap and pin him down before he got any funny ideas about
escaping. “Then again, you always were the type to make
accusations first and look for the facts later, at least where I'm
involved.” He shifted his weight and dug around in his pockets.
It was only now that he realized what a mess he must look –
he'd been in the same clothes for a week. He supposed he had Ron to
thank that he was even clean-shaven. He'd been so bloody out of it
during Snape's brief coma. He found the shrunken bag next to a
package of mints. 'Could probably do with one of those about now
too,' Harry realized as he pulled out the black bag, which grew
to its normal size. “I was there buying this, you twat. It was
just a coincidence that I ran into Ginny, who was there buying a
present for her boyfriend.”

Severus reached into the bag like whatever was in it might bite him,
and in spite of the careful control he had over himself, turned a bit
pink when he pulled out a bottle of very expensive lubricating
potion. He quickly dropped it back in the bag as if concerned that
someone might see it. “You...”

Harry turned a much brighter shade of red. “She did kiss me.
On the cheek. To wish me good luck.”

“Good luck,” Snape echoed flatly.

“With you, obviously,” Harry said, pressing his
hands against Snape's chest. “Didn't realize how much I was
going to need it. Luck, that is.” He gave Severus another
light slap. “Jealous, self-conscious, irritable prat,”
he chastised.

Snape really did feel rather foolish now. Harry was a piss poor liar
– he'd just said so himself, and there was nothing but truth in
the young man's words. He'd been going to that shop because he
wanted to deepen their relationship, and thanks to an unfortunate
coincidence, Severus had gone and turned himself into an old man
again. 'Far too old to be involved with an eighteen year old boy,
in any case,' he thought flatly. He'd ruined his chances. And
yet...Harry was still here. “Yes, well, in any case, what's
done is done,” he said. “I suppose I ought to thank you
for...all of your efforts on my behalf. As you can see, they are no
longer required.” What else could he say? The months he'd
spent as a teenager hadn't disappeared as his older memories
returned, they were still very clearly with him. The intense
feelings he'd developed for Harry also hadn't changed, but their
circumstances had changed very much. Even Harry Potter –
famous most of all for his talent for missing the obvious as far as
Severus was concerned – must see that. But the hurt expression
on Harry's face told him differently. He sighed.

“So, that's it? It's back to me being a stupid kid who doesn't
know what he wants, is it? God, you're such a bastard sometimes.
Did you really think I liked you because you were young and cute? Do
I honestly seem that shallow?”

“You must admit that neither of those descriptors fits me as I
am now.”

Harry smirked a bit. “I happen to think you still have
potential for loads of cuteness,” he declared. He tucked a
strand of black hair behind Snape's ear. “What made me find
you so irresistibly cute, Severus, was never how small you were, or
how young, or how awkward. Those are, you know, trifles, or
something.” Your speech would sound a lot better without the
'you know' and 'or something', Harry. “...what made you so
cute was how happy you were, how you couldn't quite hide it no
matter how hard you tried. Are you honestly trying to tell me that
just because you're taller and a little less awkward now, that I
can't make you smile?” He risked leaning forward and murmuring
in Snape's ear, “...that you won't moan for me if I touch you
in just the right spot?” He opened his mouth to dare latching
onto the man's earlobe, but Severus shoved him away.

“The only moaning you'll get out of me today, Harry, is a moan
of disgust. When did you last bathe? You smell like you've been
rolling in bubotuber pus.” Okay, not exactly, but the scent
was no more pleasant.

“Are you really one to talk?” Harry protested.

“I have been unconscious for a week. And your excuse for your
current state would be?”

“Worried sick that the love of my life was going to die, thank
you very much! I was distraught. Things like bathing weren't
important! I worried you'd open your eyes when I was away every time
I went to use the loo.”

Severus found himself stuck on how easily the words 'love of my life'
had tumbled from Harry's lips. He couldn't help a slight smirk.
That someone would be so worried for his well being was not a feeling
he was accustomed to, and his heart lightened further knowing it was
Harry who felt that way. Young, handsome, arrogant, insufferable,
charming, wonderful little fool that Harry so often was...he adored
the boy. He must have for far longer than he'd realized, because
half a year as a teenager couldn't possibly make him feel this
complete just from a few small words uttered in the heat of the
moment. “In any case,” he said sternly, “I won't
have any part of you, or your pricey lubricant, until you've taken a
shower...or ten. Now, off.”

Harry reluctantly climbed off the bed and shoved his black bag back
into his pocket. “Tell me you love me?” he tried.

“I will do no such thing.” But Severus said it with a
very faint smirk. The Gryffindor was ballsy to even ask, he would
give him that much credit at least.

“Then tell me it's okay for me to love you,” Harry
plodded forward. He hadn't really expected it to be that easy.
Snape had too much pride. 'For now, anyway,' he thought,
wondering how much shagging it would take to make that pride crack.

On that note, Severus caved in a bit. He pulled Harry down and
pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Get lost,
Potter,” he purred softly. “I should punish you, I
think, for accosting me with your nonsense as soon as I wake up.”

Harry smirked and turned Severus' head into a much deeper kiss that
the older man couldn't bring himself to fight, parting his lips
softly when Harry prodded at them with a rather insistent tongue.
They were both breathless when Harry pulled away. “I'll accost
you with a lot more than my 'nonsense' once they let you out of this
hospital,” he quipped.

“Out, Harry.” Severus declared, exasperated, pushing on
his chest. “And I don't want to see you again until you've had
a good night's rest and bathed.” He dragged his eyes up and
down the young man's very desirable figure. “...rather
thoroughly, I should think,” he added as an afterthought.

“Oh, I'll be thorough alright,” Harry grinned that
mischievous Gryffindor grin. “And I'll be thoroughly thinking
of you while I'm at it, too.” He ducked out of the room just
in time to avoid the pillow Snape threw at him.

“Insufferable brat,” Snape muttered as the pillow fell
limply to the floor, but alone, he allowed himself a slight smile and
traced his kiss-swollen lips with the tip of a finger. He shook his
head and scoffed irritably. “Severus Snape, you are a grown
man. One kiss is no excuse to revert to the emotional capacity of a
lovesick teenager even if you happened to be one for half a year.”
So he said, but somewhere deep inside his mind there was a sixteen
year old boy repressing giddy squeals while thinking 'he still
likes me! He wants to shag me! Oooh, I can't wait! Hey, Old Man,
let's not wait too long to let him have his way, alright?'
'Silence, boy. Hasn't that been what I was telling you all
along?' But as a grown man, Severus knew his Annoying Little
Voice was no more than a personification of all the desires he didn't
let the world see, but maybe, just maybe, he'd be willing to let
Harry see one or two of them – if the irreverent Gryffindor
behaved himself.

TO
BE CONTINUED...
- 14
- 15
- 16
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Young At Heart