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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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 3

Harry rubbed his hand over his face.

“Harry, are you listening?” Professor McGonagall pursed
her lips.

“I'm listening,” Harry said. 'Whoever said tea can
solve anything was full of shite,' he said, glowering into his
cup. “Did they set a date yet?”

Kingsley sighed, arms crossing his chest where he stood leaning
against the wall. “It will be soon, I imagine. Your
reputation isn't going to be of much use this time.”

“You've tampered with very dangerous magic, Harry,”
McGonagall said tightly.

“I know,” Harry replied. “But what would
you have me do? Just let him die?” 'Why is it people always
use your name the most when they're lecturing you? It doesn't help
anyone. You still feel like you're getting a lecture, and they still
look like they've got their panties in a bunch.'

They didn't answer the question. Harry knew why – it's what
any sane wizard would have done. Let Snape die and then live
with the guilt, lying to yourself, telling yourself that there was
nothing that could be done. Except there was something that
could be done and he'd done it. Sure, it had hardly been perfect,
but Snape was alive. He had a second chance, and that's all Harry
had ever wanted for him. He was listening, but no matter how much
they talked at him he couldn't see that as wrong. He sighed.
“Listen, I saved his life. That can't be wrong, even if
it's not technically legal. It can't be. If the Ministry is
going to put me on trial for it, I'm just going to have to hope that
I can convince them to agree with me.”

It had taken a good deal of bartering and arguing, but Harry had
managed to get Hermione and Ron off the hook somehow. He argued that
they'd warned him against it the whole time, that they didn't want to
do it, but since they were his friends, they couldn't, in the end,
let him do something so dangerous on his own. Kingsley informed him
(after informing him that he really shouldn't be informing him of
anything at all) that the Ministry was discussing terms of community
service, and possibly a small fine, but that otherwise Ron and
Hermione wouldn't suffer too harshly for their assistance.

Harry, as the 'mastermind' was a completely different story. His
reputation had kept him from a one way trip to Azkaban to await
trial, but it wouldn't do him any favors beyond that. He knew how
fickle the Prophet was, and the wizards and witches who read
it were just as fickle. Snape being a former death eater –
even if his name had been cleared – probably wouldn't help
much. The fact that Snape wasn't generally a very charismatic or
likeable character also wasn't going to help. 'If they could see
how sweet he is now, they might change their minds,' he thought
blandly, but that wasn't likely to happen. Sweet. He'd never
imagined thinking of Severus as sweet, but in spite of his sharp
tongue and defensive nature, there was an underlying uncertainty, a
general sort of cuteness, that Harry had never imagined the man might
have hiding beneath all the masks he wore to protect himself.

He sighed. “Can you just hurry up and do the tracking spell? I
want to get to the hospital. I'm normally there by now. I don't
want him to think I abandoned him, or something stupid like that.”

Kingsley and McGonagall exchanged a dubious expression that Harry
didn't quite understand the nature of but couldn't help being annoyed
with. He startled when Kingsley suddenly shot his wand at him and
muttered an incantation that found Harry – quite literally –
collared. A metal shackle wrapped around his throat, flashed, and
dissipated under the flesh. He rubbed at his neck. There was an
uncomfortable tingle that he couldn't quite ignore. He cleared his
throat, but it didn't help much. He could still feel the awkward
weight if he couldn't see it. “The tingling will dissipate,
the weight will not,” Kingsley informed.

Harry wasn't so much of an airhead to not understand why – the
weight was a reminder of the spell, so he wouldn't be tempted to toe
his way out of line. Well, at least it wasn't a broom closet.

“Right. Can I go?”

“I would keep your spell-casting to a minimum for the time
being,” McGonagall warned as Harry shrunk the hope chest he'd
been sitting atop and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Yeah, I get it,” Harry answered tightly. “But he
needs clothes, and I'm not lugging this thing all the way to the
hospital on my back. You know the way out on your own. Forgive me
for not seeing you to the door.”

They sighed. What Harry was like when he was in a temper was no
secret to anyone. He tromped to the fireplace and grabbed a handful
of floo powder, declaring 'St. Mungo's' and disappearing in a flash
of green.

“What do you think?” Kingsley asked.

“You know what I think,” McGonagall sighed. “That
boy. Honestly.”

“And if Snape gets his memories back?”

Minerva sighed. “Let's just hope by then it won't make a
difference. Excuse me, Kingsley. I've a retired potions professor to
attempt to bribe with a far better salary than he is worth in
headaches.”

“Slughorn, then?”

“What choice have I got? I've no time for interviews. It will
take all summer just to get Hogwarts back into serviceable condition,
and Severus...” she sighed. “...is rather unfortunately
diminished for the time being.”

Kingsley smirked a bit at Minerva's weak joke about Snape's
'diminished' stature. “Should you have warned Harry about...?”

“One thing at a time,” Minerva answered. “I'd like
to give the healers a bit more time to examine Severus before giving
Harry something else to worry about.”

**

“Alright?”

Severus blinked up at the blond young man brushing his hair away from
his brow. Where was he? Oh, the hospital – that's right. He'd
been at the hospital for a while now. He tried to clear his
thoughts. He'd struggled out of the pajama pants in his sleep –
too hot, and then...he woke up late in the morning and ate some of
the wretched hospital food, gone to the bathroom to take a shower
before Harry came...

What happened after that?

He sat up and raked his fingers through his hair. The pajamas
tumbled off his shoulder as his eyes scanned the room and fell on
Lucius.

Lucius Malfoy. In his forties. His already sallow skin turned even
paler.

“I know I am not as young as I once was, Severus, but surely it
was nothing worth fainting over.”

Oh. Right. He'd taken one look at Lucius, and at the son who was
nearly a carbon copy of him, and fainted. Now the son was sitting on
the edge of his bed wearing a worried expression. Severus thought a
little too close for comfort, but he didn't know what sort of
relationship he had with the Malfoys and therefore didn't dare tell
him to back off. If they were friends, he couldn't afford to push
them away, and if they were enemies he didn't want to give them any
excuses.

He shook his head a bit. “So then...it...it's all true.”
He really was supposed to be far older. Harry really was
the son of the woman he loved and his arch rival. And he was stuck
in the body of a gangly sixteen year old when he should be far past
all of this awkward teenage nonsense.

Draco put his hand over Snape's on the bed linens. “You know,
of course, that we'll do whatever we can to make this easier for
you...”

“I...” Severus stumbled uncertainly. This proximity
couldn't be normal, could it? Or was it perhaps that the roles were
reversed? Draco would have been his student, wouldn't he? Perhaps
he'd once comforted the blond, and now the young man felt the need to
return the favor. He had a hard time imagining being much comfort to
anyone, but perhaps as an adult he'd become better at those little
social nuances that were a complete enigma to him now.

**

When Harry opened the door he saw red. Severus was sitting there
looking as if he'd just been (or was about to be) thoroughly
molested, and Draco was holding his hand subtly, leaning over him
with this sincere smile on his face that didn't quite mask the leer
in his eyes.

He slammed the door a bit too loudly behind him and Draco
instinctively startled. Lucius quirked an eyebrow. “Potter,”
he drawled. “I suppose I should be thanking you,” he
glanced over his shoulder at Severus. “But somehow, I can't
help but think this isn't what he would have wanted. I
imagine you already know that.”

It wasn't a whisper. It was deliberately loud enough for Severus to
hear, and deliberate enough for Severus not to mistake that he was,
in fact, the 'he' that Lucius was referring to.

Draco got up, giving Snape's bared shoulder a squeeze that was a bit
too much a caress for Harry to not seethe over. How dare he! Harry
had always joked with Ron that Draco wanted to bugger Snape, but he'd
never thought it was true, and he didn't think even Malfoy would sink
so low as to try to take advantage of the man when he was in such a
delicate state! He didn't know why he'd thought that – taking
advantage of people was a stereotypically Slytherin thing to do. It
was just so low! Snape was young, confused, and needed
support. What he didn't need was blond Slytherin prats trying to get
in his pants now that he was all vulnerable and naive.

“And you would know all about him, then?” Harry snapped
back at Lucius. “Or did you just know the parts he let you
know? You thought he was one of you, didn't you?”

Lucius tensed, his lips curling into a vicious sneer. “Come,
Draco,” he said sternly. “Let's leave Severus to play
with his little Gryffindor. You know how he's always doted on them,
whether or not it is in his best interest.”

Draco sighed a bit and gave Snape's shoulder another entirely too
friendly caress as he leaned in. “Anything you need,” he
whispered in Snape's ear, but loudly enough to be heard. “Contact
me any time. I owe you so much, I'd be glad of the opportunity to
return the favor.”

He'd be glad of favors, alright, but Harry doubted 'returning'
old ones was what was really on Draco's mind. He absolutely wouldn't
stand for it! Severus was so gentle and innocent at this age.
Rose-colored glasses aside, he wouldn't let the Malfoys ruin that.

When Draco closed the door with infuriating elegance, Harry gnashed
his teeth in annoyance before taking a deep, steadying breath.
Severus was watching him critically with his brow quirked, lips
pursed, and head slightly tilted to the side inquisitively. The
expression charmed Harry instantly and his anger faded.

“Sorry,” he said as he shuffled further into the room.
“Rivalry n'all. I'm sure you know what it's like. I really
hate that guy.”

Severus let it go at that. He knew all about rivalry. He sure as
hell knew all about hating someone so much that all else faded into
oblivion when they entered a room. He watched uncertainly as Harry
dug about in the pockets of his oversized jeans and pulled out a
miniature chest, which he placed on the floor carefully before
casting the enlarging spell that would return it to its normal size.
“I brought some more clothes,” he said. “They were
just lying upstairs collecting dust. I've scourgified them, but they
may smell a bit musty until they've been aired out a bit.”

Severus climbed out of the bed, thoughtlessly giving Harry a good
view of his long, smooth legs, his arse only barely covered by the
nightshirt that he carelessly shoved back atop his shoulder. As he
pushed back the lid of the chest, it tumbled off the other shoulder,
his lank hair falling damp into the wide collar.

Harry cleared his throat and rubbed irritably at his neck –
which still felt weighted and itchy.

Severus looked over his shoulder and quirked a brow inquiringly.

“ 'm fine,” Harry answered, pointing at his neck.
“Tracking charm. It's the first I've had one, not really all
that pleasant, all said.”

“A tracking charm? Is that...because of me?”

Harry shrugged as he knelt down by the chest with Severus –
keeping the distance respectable. “Don't worry about it. I've
managed with far worse. Besides, it's the result of a good deed,
right?”

Severus frowned thoughtfully as his fingers dragged lightly over a
pair of wool trousers lying on top of the pile thoughtlessly.
“Lucius said that I wouldn't have wanted this,” he said.
It was a question, even though it was phrased as a statement.

“He was just being Lucius,” Harry griped. “Can't
help but antagonize those around him. Try not to think about it too
hard.”

“Harry?”

“You're alive, right?”

There was such depth of emotion in Harry's green eyes that even
though Severus couldn't quite place what he was feeling, he knew that
his being alive was somehow very important to Harry Potter.
Something about that he knew by instinct was terribly strange, but he
couldn't put a finger on what that something was.

“I'm alive,” Severus echoed dully.

Harry's lips curled up and the intensity of the moment faded a bit.
“Exactly,” Harry said. “You're alive. How can
that be wrong? Everyone is just getting way too worked up over the
entire thing.”

He wanted to hug Snape. It was the strangest sensation, suddenly
knowing that. He wanted to wrap him up in his arms and murmur into
his hair, and tell him how happy he was just to know that he
was alive. He wanted to protect him from all the things that had
gone wrong in his life the first time around. There was no way to
explain these feelings and certainly no way to act upon them, but
that didn't make them any less there.

Snape sat silently with his hands clenched into loose fists on his
knees. He felt like he should do something now, but as with all the
times he had that feeling, he had no idea what that something was.
'What was I to you?' he wondered. To break the awkward
silence he began shifting through the trunk of old clothes. They
seemed familiar. They style was so much more what a teenager would
have been wearing when he was in school, rather than what he saw
Harry and his friends wearing now. The differences between the two
weren't marked, per say, but there were little differences in things
like the shape of a collar, the way the trousers were stitched, or
what colors were combined in the same piece of clothing that dated
the lot. His nostrils flared a bit when he realized why it all
seemed so familiar – he wasn't just recognizing the style, he
was recognizing the garments themselves. A brown and orange jersey,
in particular stood out and he dropped the garish cloth as if it had
just bitten him.

“...these close belonged to Black,” he grimaced.

Harry shifted and awkwardly and rubbed his neck. Didn't Kingsley say
the itching was supposed to go away? How long was that supposed to
take? “Sirius was my godfather,” Harry explained. “He
left everything to me when he...” he cleared his throat and
looked down. It still hurt to think of Sirius being dead. He could
remember so clearly what it felt like, finally having someone, a
family of his own, and then to have it taken away. To blame
himself for that, because you always blame yourself. No matter what
happens, you always think 'maybe if I did this differently, what
then?' He'd lost enough now to know that you always, always blame
yourself. His gaze softened when he saw the slight change in
Severus' eyes from distaste to concern. That's why he'd had to save
Snape, even if this is how it ended up. Letting Severus Snape die
just wasn't something he could bear blaming himself for. Surely,
that's all it was. “...in any case, they were his, and now
they're mine, and I'm giving them to you. If it bothers you, we can
get you new clothes once they let you out of here.” He was
careful not to think about how he might be in Azkaban by the time
that happened.

Severus frowned. “These will be fine. I'm not a charity case.
You don't need to keep bringing me things,” he replied,
letting his hair mask his face as he stared down into the trunk to
conceal his expression. He didn't want Harry to know how much this
all meant to him – even if they were Black's hand me downs.

Harry offered a soft smile and ran his hand down Severus' spine
without thinking about the gesture much – it was an instinct.
“I like bringing you things,” he said. “I want you
to be comfortable, or I mean, if I can make you a bit more
comfortable in this situation, then I want to. Or something.”

His suave moment deflated in a string of sputtered half-sentences.

Severus had tensed a bit at the warm hand gliding gently over his
curved back. The gentle assurances made something kick in the pit of
his stomach and caused a strong thump in his chest. His pulse raced.
But then Harry degenerated into awkward sputtering and the moment
past. “I understand, already,” he answered, and Harry
could see a slight smirk through the veil of hair that made his own
gut kick unexpectedly. He smiled back.

“Okay then.”

“Okay,” Severus answered flatly. He wasn't sure exactly
what he was committing himself to with that statement – Black's
hand-me-downs, he supposed – but he really did have the
strangest sensation that as long as Harry was around, everything
really was going to be okay. He didn't remember ever feeling this
'okay' about anything.

“Okay,” Harry echoed with a relieved sigh. The word
didn't mean much. What did mean something was that his hand was
still resting gently on the curve of Snape's back and he didn't
realized he'd put it there in the first place. His pulse was a
little fast, and the weight around his neck, while very present,
didn't seem all that important in comparison to the way Severus'
black hair dangled over his half-bare shoulder, which he didn't know
why he was staring at in the first place. He unconsciously moistened
his lips.

“Okay,” Severus echoed one last time, “So...I think
I'd like to get dressed now.”

“Oh!” Harry startled up and away. “Right. I mean,
of course! I'll just...” he gestured frantically at the door.
“You know, wait and stuff. Out there. Did you eat yet? I can
get food, or...something. I'll go get some food, then. Absolutely.
So...great then!”

He scurried off before Severus could manage to open his mouth to
reply. Alone, the blush Severus had been fighting to hold in burst
across his cheeks and dashed up over his ears and down the back of
his neck. It was the touching that caused it, he reasoned. First
Draco being all touchy-feely, and then Harry's gentle caress along
his spine. He wasn't used to being touched much was all, so it left
him feeling even more clumsy and awkward than usual. And of course,
Harry had been staring at him over something – something he'd
wanted to say but wasn't sure how to, probably – and being
stared at can make anyone feel awkward.

Even so, as Severus slipped out of the pajamas and buttoned up one of
Black's old white linen school shirts, he focused on the lingering
warmth where Harry's hand had rested. 'He's got rather nice
hands, doesn't he?' Severus thought, lips quirking upward a bit.
'Smells good, too...' Alone was the only time Severus let
himself think on such subjects, even at this age. He'd learned early
on that dwelling on the green-ness of Lily's eyes had made him miss
vital parts of the conversation, and the redness of her hair only
made him look disinterested. He'd taught himself to save these sort
of thoughts – file them away, and focus on them later when he
had more time and wouldn't be chastised for not paying attention or
accused of being bored. He knew he should be thinking on other, more
important subjects. He should be more aghast that what Harry had
been telling him all along had been made painfully true by Lucius
Malfoy's visit. He should analyze the son, Draco's, behavior, which
had seemed peculiar somehow that he couldn't put his finger on, but
decided he seemed nice enough, and when would he have a better chance
than now to smirk freely to himself at the way Harry, left without a
verbal reply long enough, would stumble into preposterous rambles and
half-formed thoughts until he excused himself from the room? He
fastened the jeans, which were predictably a bit too large about the
waist and fell to his hips, causing bags and bunches down his legs
that pooled about his ankles before wrapping his slender arms around
his torso.

'Lily...is it really okay for me to be thinking about his hands
and the way he smells? You're the one I love, but...why do you feel
so far away?' There was a part of Severus Snape that was certain
he'd only seen Lily Potter days ago, but there was another part that
made his entire life feel so vague and distant. Sometimes, he could
imagine the way Lily tilted her head when she smiled, or the scent of
her shampoo as the breeze carried it in his direction, but then there
were these other times when he struggled to remember the precise
contours of her face. The face of the woman he loved! He should
remember it clearly, shouldn't he? But there are no words to describe
the precise intricacies of a face – the depth of the
cheekbone's curve, the precise angling of a nose, the exact fullness
of lips. Vague comparisons and mostly inaccurate descriptors aren't
enough to etch the exact details of a face into memory. It's the
first thing that goes. That's how he understood, fully for the first
time, how much time had really passed. He hadn't lost the place in
his heart where Lily belonged (and knew he probably never would), but
he had lost her face.

The grip he had on his torso tightened as the sense of loss
overwhelmed him.

TO
BE CONTINUED...
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Young At Heart