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One Thousand Days	By : Ataraxia Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 7793 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise and do not profit from this story.

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How is Severus?" Minerva nervously asked the assistant professor before her.

"Better than expected," Hermione replied honestly. "The very fact that he's awake and lucid is astounding, but the fact that he appears to have retained all his mental faculties is just short of miraculous. We never thought this day would come. Well… Harry did. He's the only one who never lost hope." It was a fact that made her feel slightly guilty. She and Draco had been begging Harry to stop spending so much time at the Grangers', and to work on building a new life.

The older witch smiled and placed a ring laden hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Mr. Potter's faith is the only reason we're all still here, my dear; he's never failed us in that regard. How's he holding up anyway?" The headmistress sat back down at her desk and motioned for Hermione to take a seat across from her in the large, newly renovated office.

After the war, Hogwarts had been rebuilt with incredible swiftness. Although much of the reconstruction had continued well into the 1998-1999 school year, enough of the building was usable in the September following the war that classes were able to resume. The Ministry had assigned substitute teachers to replace those who had been lost during the fight. Neville, Draco and Hermione had all been granted authority to teach beginner's classes in Herbology, Potions and Transfiguration, respectively, while they worked on their master's certifications. The professors who normally taught those classes were sharing the duties of teaching advanced levels. McGonagall, for instance, had the unenviable duty of teaching advanced potions for the past three years.

"Harry's okay, I think." Hermione sighed wistfully. "I know he's grateful to have a place here at Hogwarts, but I wish he would consider taking that Defense Against the Dark Arts position you offered him. I mean really, there isn't anyone more qualified. It's a terrible waste of talent." The very thought of it made her grit her teeth, but she couldn't blame him really. The fact that he wasn't reduced to a quivering bundle of nerves, or hadn't become the poster child for post-traumatic-stress-disorder was really quite impressive.

Minerva just smiled at Hermione patiently. "My dear, he'll figure it out eventually. He's 20 years old and he's had the weight of the world on his shoulders for half his life. If he wants to dig about in the muck for a while, who are we to argue? Besides, I think the work boots suit him." she smiled slyly. "Draco certainly seems to agree"

Honey brown eyes rolled as Hermione shook her head. "Oh, Professor, don't even get me started on that."

~*~*~

Hermione's heels clicked loudly as she strode into her temporary office, which had lovingly been deemed "the morgue" by Draco and Neville. She couldn't blame them for that one, really; the cold stony room did contain the remains of one very large, very dead snake.

Remains may have been a strong word. When Longbottom had decapitated the great beast, it had erupted into a cloud of smoke and vapour. The ministry hadn't been able to find much more than a pile of fine dust and teeth and that innocuous-looking pile of sweepings now resided in an array of small bottles that lined Hermione's large oak workbench.

She shrugged out of her robes and hung them over the back of her chair before tying her hair up into a quick ponytail. Donning her apron and gloves, she uncorked one of the bottles of snake-bits and gingerly tapped them into a silver dish. Suppressing a sigh so as not to blow them away, she gathered a quill and cracked open her notes.

Three years she'd been working on this problem. Three gruelling, miserable years. Hermione was sure that Snape's rejection of all things magical had to do with the snake that killed him, but she still couldn't figure out how. Crinkling her nose, she flicked her wand at the dish. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she commanded, and the ashes took flight.

"Well, you're not resistant to magic, are you, Nagini?" she mused, tracing patterns in the air with her wand. The silvery dust followed in trails, forming shimmering swirls and billows.

A sudden knock at her office door startled her, causing the spell to break and fragments of dead snake to fly everywhere. Covering her mouth and nose so as not to inhale it, she answered the door.

It was Draco, dressed head to toe in Muggle business-wear. "Bad time, Granger?" he cooed, smirking at the mess on the bench behind her.

"Ungh, Malfoy, you frightened me. Now there's powdered evil scattered about." She gestured to the cloud of dust still lingering in the air.

With a flick of his wand, Draco condensed the mess and bottled it. "You should really be more careful with your dead serpents" he tutted, gliding into her room and gracefully taking a seat on the bench. "How's it coming anyway?"

Hermione thumped her forehead on her desk and started mumbling incoherently to the wood.

Draco rolled his eyes "I'm sure the workbench is fascinated but I doubt it's following along. Chin up, please, I want a full report."

"There's nothing new!" she whined, lifting her head and scowling. "I honestly don't know what more I can try. The remains seem to be completely inert. I can manipulate them with magic, I can transfigure them, I can brew them into potions..." she picked up one of the two fangs on the desk, "…and these huge bastards react no differently, either. I'm starting to wonder..." She trailed off, staring at the large tooth in her hand helplessly.

"I still don't see why you're convinced Snape's magic went into that thing, maybe it just disappeared." The handsome blonde shrugged and shook one of the vials of powder, peering at it intently.

"Ungh," she grunted, flapping her hand in an annoyed gesture. "Draco, I've told you, it doesn't work like that. Don't you know anything about physics?"

He snorted derisively "Science is for muggles, Hermione. Do I look like a muggle?"

She raised an eyebrow as she took in his charcoal grey, three button suit and aubergine silk tie. "Actually..."

"I just like tailored things, okay?" he scowled defensively as he smoothed the front of his slim fitting trousers. "Robes do nothing for my physique. Besides, dressing like a muggle doesn't make me one, you know. I mean after all, you dress like a lady, and we all know…" his words were cut off with a quick silencing jinx.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy, were you saying something?" Hermione asked sweetly. His steel grey glare could have rivaled that of a basilisk.

"Now as I was saying," she continued, "although magic is beyond the comprehension of most muggles, there are certain things we know about it. For one thing, magic itself is energy. The laws of physics tell us that energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be transferred or transformed from one state to another. We also know that magic can't dissipate into the air, it's transferred directly from one body to the next. Snape's magic must have been transferred into Nagini when she bit him."

Draco patiently waited for her to lift the jinx so he could ask a question. "Okay, so let's just say you're right and Nagini somehow gobbled up Snape's magical essence, or whatever. Where would it have gone when she died?"

Hermione's head snapped up so quickly Draco was sure her skull was going to fly off her spine.

"You're fucking brilliant for a little prat, you know that?"

She leapt across the workbench and planted a fierce kiss on his stunned mouth.

"Where the hell are you going?" he called, watching her dash from her office

"To get the Sorting Hat, you git!"

~*~*~

Thick yellow liquid sloshed off the edge of the spoon as he attempted to raise it to his mouth. Jean watched patiently and said nothing.

"I appreciate your attempt to salvage my pride." Severus sighed, allowing the utensil to drop back into the bowl. "Unfortunately, I think I may need your assistance." He grimaced as he said the last words; being an invalid was incredibly trying on his ego.

Jean smiled and sidled up to the chair nearest his head. "Ah, don't worry, pet, you're improving by leaps and bounds."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Pet? I suggest you consider a dog or perhaps even a parrot. One could fetch your paper and the other could recite some poetry."

A soft chuckle escaped Jean's lips as she lifted a spoon to his surly mouth. "There, there, Severus, I'll have you mauling the postman in no time. Now open up. We need to get you fed before the kids get here."

In the week that had passed since he awoke, his former students had been to visit him every day. Draco and Hermione visited a couple of time a week, but Harry had appeared every evening without fail. They tried to catch him up on the various tales he had missed while unconscious. When not in their company, Snape had been plagued with an overactive mind and infuriatingly useless body. As he labouriously performed the rehabilitative exercised he'd been prescribed, his mind wandered to the stories they told.

They told him how Draco had become part of the group after the war. Harry's testimony had lead to his acquittal in the Death Eater trials, and Draco had actively tried to pursue a friendship with the young hero. Snape had also been surprised to learn that the entire Weasley clan had immigrated to Romania after Fred's death. Arthur and Molly had taken up posts with the Romanian branch of the Ministry, and Ron and Ginny were apparently off wrangling dragons. He wondered how Harry was coping with the absence of the two youngest redheads; one his best friend, and one his former lover.

Harry.

For some reason the thought of the young Gryffindor always sent a small shiver down Severus' spine. It was really rather disconcerting, when he thought about it. Yet for some reason, Severus found himself anxiously awaiting seven o'clock, the time when young Mr. Potter habitually came crashing through the Granger's Floo.

Tonight was no exception.

At exactly six-fifty-nine, Severus heard the telltale thump that indicated that a large man-shaped object had stumbled out of the fireplace and crashed onto the floor in the downstairs parlour. The sixteen steady thumps of workboots coming up the stairs made his heart pause, if only briefly.

What the hell is wrong with me? Severus thought as he caught himself smoothing his long black hair. I'm preening like an absolute ponce.

He dropped his hands to his lap and flipped open a magazine in an effort to look busy.

"Good afternoon, professor," came Harry's cheery voice from the door.

Severus gave him a withering glare from over his reading glasses. "Potter, it's seven o'clock. I believe it is safe to refer to this time of day as 'evening'." He smirked to himself as he noticed a flush creep up the boy's tanned cheeks.

"Well, yes… I suppose. It's still after noon, though, technically..."

"Semantics, Potter, semantics."

Harry plopped himself down in his usual chair, the one nearest his professor's head. Severus noticed the air he stirred up smelled earthy, like grass and moss and rotten wood. He'd grown accustomed to seeing the young man arrive caked in various types of filth, often with the occasional twig or bramble sticking defiantly out of his mussed black hair.

"What on earth do you do for a living, Potter? I would have thought the ministry would be prancing you around like a prized pony all covered in ribbons. Hermione mentioned you work at Hogwarts, but doing what? Has Filch died? Has Hagrid somehow confunded you into assisting with his magical menaces?"

Harry grinned, sheepishly as he peeled off his usual plaid jacket. "That's closer to the truth than you'd think, actually."

"Well you're a right mess." The disdain in Snape's voice did little to disguise the fondness in his eyes, and Harry blushed at the attention.

"Well, yeah, but..."

"Honestly Potter, would it kill you to bathe? You have filth all over your cheek." without even thinking, Severus reached a smooth white hand up to rub a questionable smudge off the young wizard's cheek. His hand trembled as he noticed Harry lean in to the fingers that were about the graze his flesh.

Zap!

"Ahh!" Snape and Harry recoiled from each other as a shock ran between them.

"What is that?" asked Harry, rubbing the now tender spot on his face.

"I'm assuming it's the result of you dragging your feet across the Grangers' carpet like some kind of barbarian." the oily voice replied snidely.

"What about my carpet?" Hermione appeared at the door suddenly, carrying a large satchel.

Snape smiled "Ahh, Miss Granger, I didn't hear you Floo in. Apparently one of you is still able to comport yourself with grace whilst entering and exiting a fireplace. Please, sit down."

Hermione laughed as she noticed the glare on Harry's face. "You are rather clumsy, Harry," she chided.

The bespectacled wizard rolled his eyes at his long time friend "Yeah, yeah, whatever. What have you got in the bag?"

Honey brown eyes sparkled with anticipation as she reached her hand into the satchel. "Well, as you know, my theory that Sna...errr.. the professor's powers passed into Nagini has been difficult to prove. I think the issue was that I was convinced that remnants of his magical spirit were somehow trapped in what was left of the snake. But today I had an epiphany! If your powers left you when Nagini tried to kill you, what if your powers flowed out of her when Neville chopped off her head?"

Snape recoiled in disgust. "Please don't tell me you're carting around a reptilian skull in that bag," he snapped.

"No, better. I brought this." She victoriously withdrew a lump of musty old felt.

Harry and Snape looked at her with matching sceptical expressions. "The Sorting Hat?" Harry asked.

"No! Well, yes, but it's what's in the hat, look! It's the sword of Gryffindor." she proclaimed. Sure enough, the ruby encrusted sword was concealed within the hat, much as the way it was when Neville had found it during the last battle. "I figure the power must have been absorbed by the sword when Neville killed Nagini. I'm hoping that maybe a touch from the sword might transfer it back, Professor."

He regarded her coolly, and nodded his head. "I suppose it's worth a try." he admitted.

Carefully, the young girl withdrew the heavy goblin-made weapon from the hat and placed it across Severus' lap.

The three waited with baited breath at the silver sword proceeded to do absolutely nothing.

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Do you feel anything?"

Snape shook his head. "No," he murmured, his expression dubious.

"It must be the sheets, try touching it with your bare skin."

The frail man hesitantly reached for the sword, touching its hilt lightly. It did nothing. He traced his fingers across the blade. Not a flicker. For five minutes he touched and prodded the cold metal object until he was brimming with frustration.

Snape's heart sank. "It seems you're wrong again, Miss Granger," he whispered, laying his hand across the flat of the blade.

Harry shook his head defiantly. "No, this has to be it!" he growled, reaching for the familiar hilt.

Zap!

"Ahhh!!" Snape jumped as the same shock travelled through him again. "For the love of Merlin, Harry, are you humping a shag rug when I'm not looking? How can anyone discharge so much static?"

Hermione looked back and forth between the two of them quizzically. "But, there's no carpet in the room..." she pointed to hardwood floor.

Harry shrugged and sheathed the sword in the hat again. "I supposed it's just my electric personality?" he joked, lamely.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Potter, quit while you're ahead." He allowed his expression to soften as he added, "As for you, Miss Granger, thank you for your efforts."

She sighed, "Please, sir, call me Hermione."

"Especially because you won't be ‘Miss Granger’ in a couple more months, eh 'Mione?" Harry jabbed her in the ribs with his elbow.

Severus' eyes darted to the young lady's left hand, where sure enough, a small diamond ring sparkled in the moonlight. I cannot believe I missed that, I am shame to anyone who ever was a spy. He glanced back up at the auburn beauty and managed what he hoped was a small but sincere smile. "Who's the lucky man, Miss Granger?"

"Hermione," she reminded him, "and the young man in question is Neville".

Snape's jaw dropped several inches as he tried to comprehend what she was saying "Surely you don't mean Longbottom?"

Her chin jutted up sharply with an air of defiance and dignity. "And what if I do, sir? You have to admit, he's come a long way. Not only did he kill a giant magic snake, stare down Voldemort and single- handedly kill a plethora of death eaters, but he's now an assistant professor."

"And he is rather handsome…" mused Harry, who immediately clamped his hand over his mouth and looked at the floor, not noticing the look of surprise Severus shot him.

"Well, yes, that too." grinned Hermione.

Snape stared at Harry for a moment too long before shaking his head and focusing back on the girl in front of him. "Well, good for you, Granger. He does come from an excellent family line, I suppose."

She let out a squeal that was strangely inappropriate for a girl her age. "I know, it's kind of thrilling isn't it? Lucius Malfoy must be turning in his grave to imagine a pureblood like Neville breeding with a Mudblood like me."

Snape felt all the blood rush out of his face, and bile rise in his throat. His hands clutched the white bed linens so hard, Harry swore he heard the threads snapping. "Lucius?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Harry swore and Hermione blanched. "Oh, gods, you didn't know..."

"Know what ,Granger?" the professor asked with a voice full of ice. His head was spinning, the room was dissolving in front of him. He closed his eyes in an effort to make the world stop. Not Lucius...

"Lucius Malfoy. He was sentenced to Azkaban after the war." Hermione's voice was hesitant, "…He committed suicide 6 months in to his incarceration." she finished in a voice so soft it was barely audible.

Snape's world came crashing down around him as a cry of anguish escaped his lips. Hot tears streamed, unbidden, down his ghostly face. Images of the beautiful blonde man swam before him. Severus pictured his smooth skin, his sharp eyes and his quick smile. Nobody thought the platinum haired death eater was capable of a genuine smile, but in their private moments together, Severus had seen it. A sob escaped his throat as he pictured laying in his lover's arms, his onyx hair twisting against Lucius' of stark white.

Severus collapsed on the bed and sobbed into his hands, losing control of his emotions for the first time in decades.

"Professor…" Harry reached for his arm in comfort.

"Don't touch me!" Snape hissed, jerking his arm away. "Don't touch me you self-righteous little prat. This is all your fault!"

"Sir…" Harry's eyes flashed with pain and shock

"No, you don't seem to understand, do you? Well let me explain this in small words, Potter: every person I ever loved died because of you. Every. Single. One." His eyes were full of pure, unbridled hate. "I gave up the best years of my life defending you, you ungrateful little shit. I was tortured because of you, I was loathed and despised because of you. I missed my fortieth birthday and the turn of the fucking millenium because of you. Harry. Fucking. Potter!" he spat the boys name with venom. "I gave up everything for you and you didn't even have the decency to let me die."

Frothy bits of spittle hung to the corners of his mouth as his body shook with pure rage and devastation.

"Get out of my room!"

Potter stared at him in shock. He was floored. "Severus, please." he begged, water pooling in his eyes.

"I said get out of my fucking room Potter, and don't you come back."

Still in shock, Harry pulled himself up from his chair and made his exit.

Snape curled into his pillow and sobbed with abandon. He didn't even notice Hermione leave.

~*~*~

"Harry!" Hermione called, chasing him down the stairs. "Wait, please, I'm sure he didn't mean it... he was shocked"

Harry walked faster, his long legs taking the stairs two at a time. "He meant it," he spat bitterly. "He's always fucking meant it. Snape has never had anything but hatred for me."

Hermione grabbed his arm as he stepped into the Floo, the green flames sweeping them both away.

The two tumbled into Draco's living quarters a split second later, the suddenness of their arrival causing the young man to drop his teacup onto his trouser-clad lap.

"Blimey, you two, ever heard of knocking?" he hissed, standing abruptly.

He quickly surveyed the scene; Harry's tear streamed face and Hermione's look of blind panic. "What the fuck happened to you two?"

Harry collapsed on the floor. "Snape just informed me that everyone he ever loved died because of me." he whispered.

Draco stared at him in disbelief before shooting a look at Hermione, who confirmed Harry's story with a discreet nod. "What did he mean?"

Harry looked up at him coldly. "He found out about your father's suicide."

The blonde man paled and dropped back onto his leather sofa. "I see." he whispered.

"Is there something I should know, Draco?"

Malfoy sighed and closed his eyes. "I wasn't going to tell him yet." he said slowly. "Severus was still too weak, I was worried that telling him about my father would..." he trailed off.

Hermione sat on the sofa beside him. "They were friends, it must be hard..."

Harry laughed a mirthless laugh from his seat on the floor. "Hermione, you are awfully dense for such a smart girl. They weren't just friends, were they, Draco?"

Firelight reflected off his platinum locks as the young man shook his head. "No." He took a deep breath. "They were lovers. They had been together for years."

Hermione gasped, "But your mother..."

"Was my father's best friend, and a very patient woman. She wanted to have a pure blood child, and she loved my father. He loved her, too, in his own way, I suppose. They had an understanding." His grey eyes flicked up to where Harry sat crumpled on the floor. "Severus never loved another woman after your mother, Harry. She was the only girl he could ever love."

Harry dropped his face into his hands, but said nothing.

"Draco, I'm so sorry, I had no idea." Hermione whispered, giving her friend a hug.

"Nobody did. Voldemort didn't just have it out for Muggleborns, he also wanted to rid the world of squibs, cripples, homosexuals, you name it. He wanted to 'cleanse the magic bloodlines' as it were. My father and Severus were very discrete; so discrete, in fact, that I only figured it out when I was fifteen and I stumbled in on them in a compromising situation." He half-smiled, half-cringed at the memory.

Harry snorted. "That's enough to haunt your dreams forever, isn't it mate?"

Draco laughed. "I'm long over it. I can't really judge them, can I? Not with my sexual preferences."

"Or lack thereof." muttered Hermione

The blonde smiled and squeezed her harder. "I prefer to think of myself as sexually flexible, my dear, and if you ever drop that tosser Longbottom I'm willing to show you how flexible I am!" he teased, releasing her ruffling her hair.

She rolled her eyes. "Really, Draco, I don't think now's the time..." she glanced back over to Harry.

Malfoy nodded his head in understanding. "Let me take care of him, you've got a class to teach early in the morning." And with that, he tossed a handful of powder into the Floo, said "Granger's quarters," and gently shoved his friend into the green flames.

Sighing, Draco sat down on the ground beside Harry and wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders. "You know, my chesterfield comfortably seats three," he said gently, "there's no need to sit on the floor."

Harry stared blankly at the flames, the tracks of his tears bending the light strangely. "He blames me for everything." he whispered.

Draco slipped one of his long legs around Harry so he was now seated between them. He drew the rugged man back into his chest and rested his chin on top of his head. "Snape's been unconscious for three years." he murmured. "He's woken up to find out he's not only physically crippled, but he's lost his magic and he's lost his lover. It's going to take time to come to terms with these things." He kissed the top of Harry's head gently as he pulled the young man closer to him.

Harry turned his head and pressed it against Draco's chest. "He's not the only one who's lost people," he muttered into Draco's shoulder ."I've lost my mother, my father, my godfather, Dumbledore, my friend‒" a ragged sob caught in his throat. "I've lost fucking everyone."

Draco tilted Harry's head up and stared him in the eye. "You haven't lost me." he promised.

Their lips met with a gentleness that Harry had never expected Malfoy was capable of. His firm bottom lip gently prying Harry's mouth open so his tongue could seek refuge there. The black haired man felt his pulse race as

Draco's large fingers caressed his chest languidly. A soft moan escaped his lips.

Turning around, he pushed the blonde onto the floor and laid on top of him, his callused hands trying to undo the small refined buttons on Draco's dress shirt. Draco moaned and lifted his hips off the ground, grinding his pelvis up into Harry's, their erections rubbing together needily. Malfoy moaned in ecstasy; he'd been waiting for this moment for far too long.

"I love you."

Harry froze and stared at Draco, wide-eyed "What did you say?" he choked.

The other man's mouth hung open in a look of horror. "Uh, nothing, forget it, okay?"

Harry shoved himself off the floor and stared down at his friend who had bolted up into a sitting position.

"Harry, wait..." Malfoy begged, but Harry had already turned and leapt into the Floo
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One Thousand Days