Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Fading Scars	By : silmelinde Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 8072 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own HP. I make no profit from writing fics.

Chapter List
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Followed
The Potions Master made a quick step around the Gryffindor, who in order to face him was forced to turn his back to the door and involuntarily press against it to compensate for the distance when Snape invaded his personal space. Even after gaining a few inches, Potter remained short enough to be looked down on by the much taller man. The dark eyes met green and held the gaze wilfully with a near hypnotic quality. Severus leaned over his offender, bracing his hand against the door next to the man's face. Their chests nearly touched and a tip of the black robe fell onto Harry's foot. The young man's face registered a surprise and then a whirl of emotions resembling panic.
"What an intriguing show of a false bravado..." Snape drawled out. His voice, subdued to a near whisper, was like a dangerous undercurrent that threatened to pull an unaware victim beneath the water and sweep them away. "But, why stop there, when so much more can be experienced with a bride...so much that can be desired..." he trailed away. Reading a dazed expression in the green eyes, he moved closer until their lips were a breath away. "Would you wish to pursue those things with the one you speak to? Consider the consequences the next time it enters your mind to act so rashly."
Satisfied that he managed to rattle the man's composure enough, Snape pulled away swiftly and disappeared behind the next door in a flash, banging it shut behind him. Once inside, Severus leaned against the wall and drew a deep breath. Hopefully, the horrible threat to be kissed by the greasy, despicable former teacher was enough to send the young man jumping on his firebolt and fleeing far away to never come back.
The door creaked open, admitting no other than Harry Potter.
The glare Snape shot him was enough to turn a fortified castle to rubble. That sent a clear enough message not to touch him again even to the thick headed Gryffindor. Instead, Harry crossed the entrance hall to a massive black desk where reigned a middle-aged witch with her long nose buried in a pile of documents.
"Excuse me..."
The sour expression she directed over the thick rim of her glasses at the intruder evolved into a pleasant enough expression. "Mr Potter, have you forgotten something during your visit?"
"Not quite. There's been an unpleasant incident and someone got hurt. I wanted to know whether Ellie is still at the office or maybe another healer can attend to the injury."
"I will check who might be available," she promised to the important visitor amiably enough without much compassion. A black rat took up a folded note she scribbled the inquiry on to send upstairs. With a flick of the tail the rodent was off. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"Professor Snape is here with some sort of potions."
The container landed on top of the desk with a clang of disapproval at his lack of precision, giving the young man a bump aside. Snape remained at the door. His wand was out, pointing at the box he levitated across the hall.
"Kindly step aside, Potter," he instructed. "I feel much better knowing you aren't anywhere near some fragile, valuable objects."
"I can register the delivery," the witch informed him, getting up from the hardly comfortable chair to examine the item. Opening the lid, she began poking around with the bony fingers. "The package is damaged and the delivery is not complete," she noted two empty vials. "This will reduce the payment."
No longer burdened by the heavy box, Snape managed a short walk to the bench and took a seat, clearing his face of any signs of discomfort. He observed Potter, wondering why the man was still there, while the witch dug through the drawers dispassionately until she produced a thick journal that had crooked rows of numbers spotlessly scribbled top to bottom and calculated the reductions, before filling out a short form and presenting it to the Potions Master.
Snape gritted his teeth against the ludicrous deduction that dropped the pay by thirty percent. The sum was barely enough to cover the ingredients cost, rendering his work worthless. As it was preferable to swallow a toad than to gripe about the petty payment, he signed the form grudgingly, completing the business and dubbing the day as another miserable waste of existence.
"Harry!! Are you hurt?!"
The high pitch resonated unkindly in his ears and he levelled its source with a disapproving glare. It must have been awfully convenient to be tended hand and foot at the slightest whim by the entire hospital staff. Had he made a similar request, Snape had no doubt he would have been sent upstairs to wait for several hours.
“I’m fine, really. There’s someone else who needs help,” Harry assured much to the girl’s disappointment since she sizzled with want to do something for him and was close to throwing herself on the wizard’s neck, Severus noted irritably. Ellie didn’t conceal an unflattering opinion of the potions master at the first sight as Harry pointed him out. “This is my former teacher, Professor Snape. Can you please fix his ankle?”
“Oh!”
Apparently those who suffered speech deficiency bundled together. Ellie approached the bench carefully like she expected him to sprout a second head that would bite her arm off.
“It’s nice to meet you, Professor. Harry described you differently.”
“In spite of what he may have told you, I do not turn into a vampire bat at night that sucks the blood of the small, fluffy animals or humans, even those resembling a curly mutt,” he declared, imagining how that description went. So, Potter had the childish gall to complain years after school.
Harry coughed and his face turned a peculiar shade of pink. “I’m sure the professor would appreciate if you mend his ankle before continuing this conversation,” he interfered before she fully gave away the nasty horror stories he must have told her about his former teacher.
The professor appreciated no discussion at all. Snape briefly contemplated sweeping out of the hospital to fix the ankle himself, which wouldn’t have been for the first time. The desire to get the inconvenience over with won. Grudgingly, he stretched out his leg, allowing the mediwitch to examine it.
Ellie transfigured his shoe into a softer material that slid off his foot easily. The swelling was evident without a close examination. Nonetheless, the tip of her wand turned blue and a soft light enveloped his limb. Severus tensed when instead of keeping it around the damaged area she raised the wand higher and moved it across his body before the blue extinguished and she began to weave the healing spells. Why did his privacy have to be invaded at every turn?
“There are no broken bones, but you’ve torn a ligament,” she explained, at least without undue dramatisation. “While I can repair the damage, your foot will be sore for the next two days. Try to rest it as much as possible or it will take a while for the pain to subside fully.”
“I trust there are no further instructions.”
“None for this injury.”
The muscles shifted beneath the skin and a dull ache resonated through his limb as the spell aimed to speed up the natural healing process. The sullen glare was lost on the girl who was looking down, focused on her job. Potter uselessly dangled two feet away, most likely waiting for his former teacher to go away, so he could have an idle chitchat with the girl who would be happy to oblige instead of working. Coming to see her must have been the motivation for helping him. Snape was damned if he was going to thank anyone for using him.
“I found something else while checking the muscles for damage,” the mediwitch voiced the check up results after a prolonged silence. “There seems to be significant, long term damage to your right hip and shoulder. Are you registered at any healing institution?”
“That would imply having some hope of meeting a competent enough healer who could realistically find a cure. Since during my last encounter the drivel pronounced by your colleagues has led me to believe the most I could aspire for is to become a lab rodent, I haven’t the slightest desire to deepen our communication.”
“Not every case has an immediate cure! Some ailments require extensive research!” Ellie jumped to defending her beloved hospital from an attack and her colleague’s competency, which she held in highest regard. “We can’t find the solution for Harry’s curse either, but he’s visiting St Mungo’s regularly, which means with his help we will eventually.”
“Certainly, I’ve aspired to imitate Potter my whole life.” The sarcasm could have poisoned a moderate corn pixie colony. “I do believe you’re done both mending and meddling.”
A quick swish of his wand changed his shoe back and Snape pulled out of Ellie’s grasp to put it on. Grabbing his cane, Snape was out of the hospital without as much as goodbye in a black swirl of robes.
“Wow, Harry. I don’t care that you’ve called him a hero. He sure is an unpleasant git.” Ellie released a hearty huff. “Curly mutt, he says, if I didn’t have to remain professional and be polite to the patients, I would have turned him into a slimy toad.”
“Maybe he would have been inclined to a friendlier communication had you not gaped at him like you saw a toad,” Harry pointed out.
“I didn’t! Oh, ok, maybe, but he doesn’t look like he has heard the phrase ‘friendlier communication!’”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. He had no desire to alienate Ellie. Yet, her claims raised unpleasant feelings towards her. “I know he’s a difficult man. Still, I don’t want to hear petty name calling when it comes to someone who saved my life more than once. I hope you understand.”
“Wait! Don’t leave when you’re angry!” Ellie ran up and grabbed his hand. “Let’s meet today in the evening and talk about it. I want to be sure we made up.”
“No hurt feelings of course,” Harry forced a friendly smile. “I won’t be able to meet you today because I already have other plans, but I’d like to see you later. There is one ice cream place I know you’ll love.”
“Awww…ok. Later then.”
Even if she was upset about her idea being declined, Ellie didn’t hold grudges. They parted on a positive note. Harry genuinely intended to keep the promise about the ice cream. However, he couldn’t have stayed because he wanted to follow his former teacher.
Harry sprinted down the only path that led back to the busy street. Catching his breath, he looked right and left, mostly expecting that the Potions Master had apparated. A flash of black stood out among the bright colours, prompting him to chase after the lead. He wasn’t planning on hiding, but he didn’t have a clear idea why he was stalking his former teacher nor a good plan what to say should Snape desire an explanation.
At first keeping a respectable distance, Harry was eventually forced to close the gap once they left the wealthier area and moved to the streets adjacent to the Knockturn Alley where the pathway capriciously turned this way that, which helped any man disappear. Harry barely dodged a torrent of slops purposely poured out the window. Greedy eyes observed a relatively well dressed man like they wanted to strip the content of his pockets. The keen attention from the seedy characters bothered Harry little since he had visited places far worse over the course of two years hunting Voldemort’s former henchmen. His only concern was to avoid loosing Snape. Speeding up when the potions master disappeared again, Harry nearly ran into him when he turned the corner. The black eyes bore into his, stopping him dead in his tracks.
“Intriguing,” Snape’s voice was loud enough to be heard only by the person he addressed, yet every word was clear and this weaved an illusion of intimacy for the conversation was to remain between them. “I’ve never had potion ingredients willingly follow me home before.”
“Uh…”
Why had every rational thought dissipated whenever he tried to speak with the man who already was of low opinion when it came to estimating his intelligence? The man’s lips curled in mockery.
“I’m describing your nearest future, least you cease following me immediately.”
A rotten apple tossed by an unknown hand smashed into Harry’s back. The impact made his sight darken as it hit the scar. Harry refused to even check which direction it came from. Snape had done them too many favours to seek any further ones with the man. It hadn’t been his intent to ask for help, but the pain provided him with the reason to open a dialogue with the potions master. The wizard pushed open a crooked gate that led into a filthy yard with a metal staircase winding up to a second floor and stopped abruptly, frowning that his follower dared enter as well.
“I wanted to ask for your expertise.”
There was a small flicker in the man’s eyes, more than anything resembling disappointment and then they filled with bitter resentment.
“Helping you brought me nothing but pain in the ass,” the potions master snapped.
“Then you can appreciate the sentiment of wanting to get rid of its literal manifestation when you get hit with a curse,” Harry put in quickly, sensing their conversation was coming to a poor end.
“I’m not examining your ass!” Snape hissed.
In spite of the limp, the wizard fairly nimbly climbed the steep stairs that led to a small apartment door, which he unlocked and slammed shut with a shuddering bang, disappearing behind it. A rusty bucket that hung by a thread on the wall crashed into a pile of junk with a horrible racket from force that shook the structure, which effectively put an end to any further attempt to speak with the man.
Now what was he going to do when initiating another conversation seemed easier with a Hungarian Horntail that suffered a permanent indigestion?
A door on the first floor underneath the stairs flew open and an angry, feminine voice screeched, “Damnation! Who’s making all this noise?!”
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Fading Scars