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Pains and Contradictions	By : padme82 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 54831 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 37
- 38
- 39
A/N: Many apologies for the lateness of this chapter. I seem to be saying that a lot lately, but a little personal tragedy stalled my writing for a while. That and this chapter had been so perfectly in my head for so long I wanted to get it just right. I also need to get my word count down because it was always about two thousand words in my head.

And this is the penultimate chapter! I'll wait until the next one to reflect, but gosh this has been a very long journey. My thanks to all of you who've kept up with it along the way. It's been almost three years, and we're not done yet. As to how long the next chapter will take, I'd rather not make any estimations. If all goes well it shouldn't be too long, but it's a chapter I definitely want to get right.

Thank you to Torina for betaing this chapter for me, and to RaeWhit and Clare for answering a few medical questions.

*

“He’s dead.”

Harry closed his eyes and gave a long exhale. He gripped the flesh under his hands tighter. “I know.”

“I wasn’t certain that you did,” Dumbledore said. “I know your thoughts were elsewhere.” He stepped into the private room in the infirmary, and Harry could feel him staring. “Though I believe it was completely understandable.”

Harry bit his lip and concentrated on keeping pressure on Severus’ shoulder, though it looked as though blood was seeping through his fingers and spreading everywhere.

It seemed as though he was still catching his breath from his run to the infirmary, though he honestly couldn’t remember how he and Severus had gotten there. He only remembered seeing Severus’ body lying on the muddied earth by the lake and thinking he was dead. No, it had felt like he was dead, and it still felt that way. Even though he could feel Severus’ heart beating with his hands, he couldn’t feel him through the bond. And that sensation terrified Harry far more than any amount of blood could.

He was lost in his thoughts, and didn’t register the pair of hands that was trying to assess Severus’ shoulder until they were upon him. Harry jerked back and gave a small shove of his shoulders before he realized Dumbledore was just trying to see the wound.

“I believe I can take care of that. Poppy—”

“She’s busy, I think,” Harry said, looking back toward the door. “I’m fine,” he said, though his chest ached and his face felt sticky. “His shoulder’s...not so bad that I can’t take care of it for a while.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Harry barely remembered nodding his head as he helped Severus’ body into a private room while Remus levitated his weight. The smell of blood had been strong, and he was glad Severus wasn’t aware of all that.

But there really was a lot of blood.

“Let me help, Harry,” Dumbledore said, then removed Harry’s hands with a small amount of force. Harry watched in detached horror as blood poured from the wound, and took Severus’ hand, not willing to be apart from him.

Without thought, he closed his eyes and felt for the bond, frightened beyond measure that it still felt dead and lifeless to him, that he couldn’t feel Severus at all. He barely noticed Dumbledore’s soft singing, or how the tune and the words sounded vaguely familiar to him. He just concentrated on breathing, on not breaking into a million tiny pieces because Severus felt dead.

“There will be a scar,” Dumbledore said, laying a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder, “but nothing too terrible. I don’t believe there will be any lasting damage.”

Opening his eyes, Harry watched as Dumbledore took a damp cloth and wiped away some of the blood that covered Severus’ healed shoulder. Harry clenched the hand he held and tried in vain to find the three freckles he knew by name. Slowly, he lifted Severus’ hand to his face and attempted to bring back the feeling of joy he’d felt on that day, eager to give something good to Severus.

He shuddered, and all he could feel was fear and a lifeless bond that was alarming him more with each passing moment. “They used his own spell against him?” he asked, for want of something better to say.

“It was Lucius Malfoy,” said a voice from the door, and Harry was so disoriented he had to look to recognize it was Remus. “I tried to make my way to him, Harry, I truly did.” He sighed and ran a hand through his muddied hair. His robes were singed and torn and covered in blood.

Severus’ blood, Harry realized.

“I think they knew exactly what they were doing, keeping Severus isolated,” Remus said, but Harry was barely listening. What had already happened hardly mattered when he didn’t know whether Severus would live or die, or why it felt as though he was dead even now.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Harry said, and he knew that his statement was true. It wasn’t Remus’ fault, it was Voldemort’s and Malfoy’s and Fate’s and his own.

He grasped Severus’ hand tighter.

“It wasn’t yours either,” Remus said, then looked oddly at Harry before taking the cloth from Dumbledore’s hand, folding it in half and wiping Harry’s face with it. It was red by the time he pulled it away. Looking at Severus, he asked, “How is he?”

“I think he’s dead,” Harry said in whisper, surprised he was able to get the words out, but then Remus laid a warm hand on his shoulder and words flowed out of him. “I can’t feel him. He was always there, in the back of my mind, even when he was trying to push me away. I could always feel him, and now I can’t and I—”

His hand moved from his shoulder to Severus’ wrist, and the room was silent for a moment.

“He’s not dead, Harry,” Remus said.

“No, he isn’t,” Dumbledore said, “and I believe he will survive. When you were injured and in the infirmary, I believe Severus had a similar fear. But he was patient, and refused to let you go.” He stopped and Harry turned to look at him, wanting to believe what he was saying. “He will wake up, Harry, but he must recover first. You will have to wait for him.”

“I’ll come back to wait with you if you’d like,” Remus said, releasing Severus’ wrist and standing up. “I actually came for you, Albus. The Aurors have some questions—”

“I imagine they do,” he said, and his voice sounded tired but triumphant. Harry understood why, knew that this day had been schemed and planned for so long that Dumbledore had every right to be as overjoyed and relieved as he sounded in that moment.

That didn’t stop Harry from hating him just a little bit. He reigned the feeling in, knowing it wasn’t fair and not wanting Severus to feel anything but Harry’s love and comfort.

“I will return when I can,” Dumbledore said, and he leaned over to touch Severus’ uninjured shoulder. “Rest well, Severus. You’ve earned it.” Then he smiled at Harry and left the room.

“I’ll be right back, Harry,” Remus said, “as soon as I can.”

Harry nodded and watched as the door closed, then turned around to face Severus in the bed. His adrenaline rush from the battle had faded, and he suddenly felt exhausted and weary to the bone, his grief and fear crashing down upon him. He let his chin fall and he put a hand over his head, not willing to accept what he was feeling.

Severus couldn’t be dead.

Not bothering to kick off his shoes, which were filthy with more than just dirt, Harry climbed into bed with Severus and let himself hide in the curtain of his hair. It wasn’t so long ago that he’d been here, but last night felt like ages ago.

And something more than just the death of Voldemort had happened between now and then. Even now, with Severus lying on the bed unconscious, Harry felt like he was in a new world, and which he had no idea what would happen next.

Holding onto Severus with his entire body, Harry realized that most of his life until this moment had been foretold and manipulated by Fate to bring about a certain end. And now that end had come. Ron’s death, Harry’s friendship with Severus, Malfoy’s obsessive, desperate move, even Severus’ telling about the bond had all happened for specific reasons. Harry’s life had had a purpose, and even though he had been afraid to face his destiny some small part of him had believed that what he set out to accomplish would happen.

It made sense, he realized. If any part of him hadn’t believed he could kill Voldemort he doubted he’d have had the strength to step out onto the battlefield.

Harry’s life and his bond with Severus had all been part of a great plan. If Severus died it would be more than devastating. It would be like a promise had been broken. How could Fate have given him this man, this gift, only to take it away from him after a few months?

And what would he have left if Severus died? Nothing, he responded to his own question. There was no great plan anymore, no grand destiny he had to fulfill. Severus’ room in the infirmary was silent, with none of Fate’s whispered words trickling into his mind. He’d done what he was born to do, and maybe Severus had too.

So what did that leave them with? He shuddered again as he closed his eyes and felt for the bond, only to sense the same lifeless response for his efforts.

The Hero and the Spy, Harry thought. What would they be now that they’d completed their tasks? What if this was Fate’s plan all along? Severus had certainly seemed to think so.

What would be left for them, Harry wondered.

He let his head fall down to Severus’ chest, and listened for his heartbeat. It was stable and strong, and Harry closed his eyes and again reached out to Severus through the bond. It remained still and lifeless, but Harry didn’t stop, wrapping himself tighter around Severus. He was not willing to give up, not where Severus was involved.

He laid incredibly still for some time, resolved to not open his eyes, to not move at all until he felt something. Minutes passed and Harry remained still, pouring all his strength into the bond.

And there, somewhere in the darkness, he felt Severus. He was weak, and the bond between them was weaker, but he was there. The slightest flicker burst in Harry’s consciousness, and he knew Severus was alive.

A stifled sob erupted from Harry, and he leaned up and opened his eyes, kissing Severus’ face as he continued to give back the strength he had taken.

What did they have to live for, he asked himself again. “Dinner,” he said aloud, “and a film.” And that would have to be enough for right now.

*

Harry barely registered the sounds of the door opening and soft footsteps entering the room when he heard them several hours later. He was too busy concentrating, trying to find some way to measure the bond’s strength and sense if it was getting any stronger.

“Has there been any change?” Remus asked.

“He’s alive,” Harry croaked, and even he could hear the wonder and relief in his voice.

Remus walked the few steps separating them and sat down in the chair by Severus’ bed.

“And he wasn’t before?”

“No,” Harry said, still not opening his eyes. “He wasn’t.” Slowly, he turned his head and looked over at Remus, noticing how exhausted he looked, how his robes still bore the signs of the battle.

He looked confused, but then he smiled at Harry and said, “Well, that’s an improvement, isn’t it?” Harry smiled in return and Remus asked, “And how are you?”

Pillowing his head on Severus’ chest so he could comfortably look at Remus, Harry said, “Also alive.” He propped himself up on his elbow to talk with Remus face-to-face, but he caught a glimpse of Severus’ healed shoulder and couldn’t help the way his fingers ran over the scar.

The fear he felt at Severus’ unconsciousness faded for a moment as a flash of recent memory entered his mind. He hadn’t noticed it at the time—he’d only had eyes for Severus seemingly dead atop Remus’ lap—but in his mind’s eye he saw a distinctive flash of blood-covered white-blond hair, and the person it belonged to lying face-down in the mud.

“Lucius Malfoy is dead?” Harry asked, surprised that it only now occurred to him to ask, especially since he’d known it was Malfoy who’d targeted Severus in the first place.

“Yes,” Remus said with some hesitation. “Thankfully before he could harm Severus any more. Draco’s being questioned by the Aurors, and I believe he’ll be in Ministry custody by the end of the night.”

Laying his face on Severus’ shoulder, Harry shuddered and felt again for the bond; he thought it might be slightly stronger than it had been a few moments ago. “At least Lucius Malfoy will never be able to hurt him again.” Then, in a soft voice he said, “Maybe I shouldn’t be, but I’m glad Severus killed him.”

Remus cleared his throat, and said, “He was a terrible man, Harry, who did terrible things. I wasn’t far from where Severus was, and I saw him step over his own bound son just to get to Severus all the quicker. But...Severus didn’t kill Lucius.”

Harry lifted his head at that. “You?”

Remus shook his head in response. “Hermione.”

The name shook something inside of Harry, something that had been completely swallowed by his fear until now. He looked up at Remus, feeling as if it was the first time he’d spoken to him since the battle. “What?”

“Lucius had the upper hand. Severus had already been weakened by the time Lucius got to him, and he would have killed him if Hermione hadn’t gotten there first.”

The thought that Hermione had killed a man was something Harry couldn’t fathom. He couldn’t wrap his own mind around the fact that he’d killed a living thing, let alone the idea that Hermione had as well.

“Everything feels so different,” he said.

“Yes,” Remus said, then shuffled in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. “Everything’s changed now.” He gave Harry a grim look, then forced himself from the darkness of their conversation. “Once Severus wakes up, what will the two of you do?”

“Do?” Harry asked.

“Everyone’s waiting for you both. Everyone knows about what you did, about the bond.” Harry must have revealed every ounce of terror that statement created on his face because Remus held up a hand and said, “Not one person has said anything against the two of you, I assure you. Dumbledore told the Ministry and press a love story.”

“Love story?” Harry repeated, terrified.

Remus nodded, but there was a bit of mischief in it. “Has them eating out of the palm of his hand. Told them about the prophecy and how the bond entered into it, and how it took time for you and Severus to come together the way you did.” Remus smiled a bit at that.

“God,” Harry whispered, still unable to fathom how the entire world had changed in half a day. Everyone knew about the two of them. The question of what would happen to them now suddenly seemed to have a darker answer.

“Harry?”

“Everything’s different,” Harry said again. Severus’ prone form and the weakness of the bond took so much of his concentration that he was barely able to comprehend everything else. That was the one thing that stood out.

“But that’s a good thing,” Remus said, and Harry picked up on his worried tone. “Voldemort’s dead, Harry. The shadow that hung over yours and Severus’ lives is gone completely.”

“Yes, but...” Harry scratched his face, and looked down at Severus. His face was flushed and he looked somehow weaker than he had an hour ago. He closed his eyes and felt again for the bond, sure now that it was stronger than it had been. He didn’t understand what could be happening or whether or not Severus was recovering at all.

“Harry?”

“What is there for us now?” he asked, looking at Remus, feeling completely lost. “For most of my life—for half of Severus’ life—we’ve had this prophecy hanging over us. There was always this madman that we had to defeat. And I was afraid of dying, Remus, I really was. But some small part of me thought—knew—that there was no way Severus and I could lose. That this was what we were made to do. Now that that’s gone, I—”

He drifted off and looked down at Severus again, playing with one of the buttons on his dueling robes. He should probably change him into something more comfortable soon. Severus would have never left Harry in soiled robes for so long.

“You don’t know what’s left for you to do now?”

Harry started and looked over at Remus, processing his words for a moment before nodding. “Everything was just so big, the consequences were always so dire and now—”

“Now you’re just two men with the rest of your lives ahead of them?”

Frowning, Harry closed his eyes and felt for the bond as an automatic response.

“Because you do,” Remus said, and Harry could hear the smile in his voice. “I believe Severus will wake up soon, Harry, and when he does you’re going to have a very long conversation on what exactly you’ll do next.” He stood from his chair and placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I imagine it will be very odd for the both of you. Transitioning from the life of the hunted hero and the spy into two ordinary men. But the best part of being an ordinary man is that you, and only you, get to decide how you’ll live your life.”

“Like Fate’s done with us,” Harry said. “We did the job we were supposed to do and now...”

“And now you get to enjoy your reward.” He let his hand rest on Severus’ shoulder and sighed. “I know I’ll enjoy mine.”

Not knowing exactly what Remus meant by that, Harry looked up with a questioning look on his face. His eyes searched Remus’ for a few moments before he finally thought to ask, “How’s Tonks?”

A slight smile graced Remus’ face before he said, “She’ll be fine. Harry, I want you to understand something. You and Severus both.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not done. In fact, you’ve barely even started.” He squeezed Severus’ uninjured shoulder before turning away. “Be sure he knows that, as well.” With a parting smile and a promise to return later, Remus left, closing the door behind him.

With a sigh, Harry turned to Severus and wiped a bit of sweat off his brow. Running his fingers over Severus’ cheekbones, he thought that seventeen shouldn’t possibly feel this old. And he shouldn’t feel this alone, not when his bondmate was alive and beneath him. The fear returned to him, and he clutched at Severus, eager to let him feel love and peace and the knowledge that it was safe to wake up.

He pulled away and looked down again, but Severus looked even worse now. He was warm, his skin was clammy, and Harry knew he had to be uncomfortable in those robes. First things first, Harry thought, and set about to find some sleepwear Severus would be comfortable in.

*

Harry was perched on the side of Severus’ bed the next day, removing the tomato from a sandwich the house-elves had given him, when he heard a soft knock on the door.

Not wanting to separated from Severus, he called out, “Yes?”

“Harry? Can I come in?” Hermione asked, her voice clear through the door.

“Yeah,” he said and looked back to make sure the sheets were still covering Severus’ bare legs. The door opened, and when Harry looked up he was treated to a sight he hadn’t seen before. At least, not for a very long time.

Hermione closed the door behind her and just stood there for a moment, no doubt taking in Severus’ ill pallor and Harry’s sleep deprivation, giving Harry a moment to take her in. It was like he was looking at a different person than the one he’d known for the past six months. The sadness that had hung about her had lifted, and in its place there was a confidence that he’d never seen in her before.

She had never been shy or soft-spoken, especially in classes. But there was a difference between the cleverness she’d known she possessed before and the radiance around her now. Whatever had happened to her on the battlefield yesterday had changed something in her completely. Much as it had Harry.

Everything’s different, he thought again. A voice in his head that sounded a lot like Remus reminded him that might not be such a bad thing.

His stare must have been off-putting because she slowly made her way over to the chair by Severus’ bed and gave him a questioning look before she sat down. He put his sandwich away and leaned back on Severus before he said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she said, and the soft smile she gave him was the same as it always had been. “How are you? Remus said you were fine, but Professor Snape...” She trailed off and looked past Harry to Severus on the bed. “How is he? The Death Eaters were relentless, Harry. You would have been horrified at how they targeted—”

“I heard you held them off well enough,” Harry said, reaching out for her hand. “I heard what you did. What you had to do.” He paused and thought for a moment about what would have happened had Hermione not been there to kill Malfoy at exactly the right second. “Thank you,” he said, gripping her hand tighter, willing her to know how much he meant the words.

Hermione paled and took her hand back, not meeting Harry’s eyes.

“I was in the right place at the right time. Remus would have done the same,” she said.

“Yeah, but it was you who did it. If it hadn’t been for you Severus would be dead.” The finality of the statement caused a chill to go up Harry’s spine.

“I know,” she whispered, and the confidence that had been all around her faded a bit. “I’m glad he’s alive. I’m glad I was able to help him, and I’m glad for you, Harry, but...”

A tremble in her lip had Harry taking her hand again, and he leaned further against Severus for support. “But what?”

“I didn’t do it for him,” she whispered, “and I didn’t do it for you either. I didn’t kill Lucius Malfoy to save anyone. I did it because he killed Ron, and because he deserved it.”

The chill returned as he took in Hermione’s confession. He wasn’t certain what he should say to that, wasn’t certain what to tell her let alone how he felt about it. Lucius Malfoy had been a murdering bastard, and Hermione of all people had a right to see him dead. But the difference in Hermione’s composure seemed different now, and Harry wasn’t sure how to take it.

“I’m not sorry I did it,” she said. “I don’t feel any guilt over it. I feel like Ron can really rest now that his murderer’s dead, and I feel like...I can move on.” She bowed her head slightly before she said, “But I feel like I should feel terrible, and it bothers me that I don’t.”

“You feel guilt over not feeling any guilt?”

“Oh, yes,” Hermione said in a gush of breath, and Harry relaxed, feeling like he hadn’t lost his friend after all. “Any decent person would be devastated after what I did! But I’m not.”

“I’m not either,” Harry admitted, glad he was able to acknowledge his own lack of guilt for the first time.

Hermione’s eyes went wide as though she only now realized what Harry had had to do, what he’d been expected to do since the Prophecy had first been uttered. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Of course you must be feeling... But he was different, Harry. He was barely human, and he was evil, and—”

“And Lucius Malfoy was a model citizen? I still feel the same way you feel. I don’t feel guilty for killing him, I can’t lie about that.” Harry let out a gush out breath and looked down at Severus’ face. “Severus would probably say of all people those two needed to die. But I do feel like I should feel guilty. And I think that’s what makes the difference.”

Hermione bit her lip and sat back in her chair, and Harry could see that his words had comforted her.

“How is he?” she asked again, and this time he could tell she wanted an answer.

“I don’t know,” he said. “The bond felt dead before.”

“And now?”

“It’s stronger, but Severus still feels so weak. He’s not waking up.” He took Severus’ hand in his own and felt for the bond as a reflex. “I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t wake up.”

Then she was taking his hand in her own again. “He will.” Her consoling smile was soon replaced by a mischievous one. “Professor Dumbledore’s told everyone a very interesting story.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

Severus let out a harsh breath in his sleep, and Harry gripped his hand tighter.

“Do you want me to call Madam Pomfrey?”

Harry closed his eyes and felt for the bond, but he knew already that it felt stronger than before. He couldn’t guess why Severus wasn’t waking up.

“Yeah,” he said, even now hearing the bustling of the infirmary as Pomfrey and other medi-wizards tended to the wounded. “She might be a while. I’m pretty sure Dumbledore told her Severus’ injury wasn’t something she could fix.”

“Still,” Hermione said, and gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze before she pulled away. “She should see him. And you too.”

With that, she left the room, and Harry could imagine the lengths she would have to go to to get a medi-wizard just to speak to her.

Harry suddenly felt exhausted, the stress from the last day falling upon him in a rush. Sandwich forgotten, he curled up around Severus’ side, placed his head on his chest, and fell asleep.

*

“You look lost, mate.”

Harry shifted in his chair and allowed himself to take his eyes off Severus long enough to acknowledge Ron. “Yeah,” was all he felt comfortable saying. His throat felt raw and his voice underused. Severus was sweating.

“Are you feeling lost because of him,” he gestured to Severus, “or because of, you know—”

“A little bit of both, actually.”

Ron was quiet for a minute, the soft candlelight in the room barely illuminating his face.

“Harry,” he said, and the tone in which he said it forced Harry to look at him. “I don’t think you realize how lucky you are. You survived.”

Harry bristled a bit at that; Ron was making it seem like he wasn’t grateful to be alive. “I know exactly how lucky I am.”

“No, you don’t,” Ron said. “You survived. He survived. I wasn’t so lucky. Hermione wasn’t so lucky.”

Harry bowed his head at that, a bit ashamed of himself but still feeling as though his emotions were justified. Maybe he had his entire life in front of him, but what did that matter when his destiny had already been fulfilled? “I know, I know, I know.”

Ron must have been reading his mind, because he said, “I don’t think every person has some great destiny. Seems to me like everyone just kind of lives their lives as best they can. Try to be happy, you know? And can you honestly tell me fulfilling this grand destiny of yours has made you happy? Did you ever really want it?”

“No,” Harry said plainly, not bothering to expand upon it. Ron had always known he’d never wanted the cards he’d been dealt.

“Well, good then. It’s over now. The burden of it, everything you’ve had to live with for years, it’s all gone,” he said with a smile, like it was really that easy.

Maybe it could be for Ron, but the darkness of the room seemed to crowd around Harry, and the light seemed dimmer.

“Maybe you’re right,” Harry said, but his heart still held its doubts. “It’s just that right now...” he looked down towards his still sleeping Severus. “Everything seems so dark.”

“Yeah, well, Harry,” Ron said, waiting to continue until he met his eyes, “in the beginning, it’s always dark.”

They were silent for a few moments, and Harry looked down at Severus, his hand warm and sweaty. The bond felt stronger now, but still Severus seemed to be getting worse.

“How is he?” Ron asked.

“He’s not waking up.” He closed his eyes and felt Severus struggling, felt as though something was wrong. “And if he doesn’t, all this talk about moving on and living isn’t going to mean a damn thing.”

Ron looked like he might have wanted to protest that, but he didn’t. Instead he concentrated on Severus’ face, then leaned closer towards the bed. “Do you hear that?”

“What?” Harry frowned and tried to look at whatever Ron was looking.

“That sound,” Ron said, his ear close to Severus. “Don’t you hear that?”

Harry opened his eyes, his head pillowed on Severus’ chest, and was assaulted by the sound of a weak gargling. His heartbeat faltered and he closed his eyes and listened again.

It sounded like there was water in Severus’ chest.

Alert and alarmed now, Harry spelled up the lights and threw opened the door, taking in the barely-restrained chaos in the main room of the infirmary. There were wounded Aurors, students, and Order members filling the beds, and Harry struggled to locate Madam Pomfrey in the hustle of healers.

“Potter?”

“Madam Pomfrey,” Harry breathed, his hand on her shoulder, “please come quick. There’s something wrong.”

Her eyes turned to scan the number of beds lining the walls, but she followed him regardless. “The headmaster told me his injury could only be fixed by magic, otherwise I would have attended to him sooner.”

“I thought so, too,” he said, coming into Severus’ room and hovering over his bed as Madam Pomfrey waved her wand. He took in Severus’ pale face and could feel his distress, something he hadn’t felt before now. He ran a hand through his hair as he waited for Madam Pomfrey to tell him what was wrong.

Her scan must have revealed something because she paled before lowering her head to listen to his chest, just as Harry had a few moments before.

“Merciful Merlin,” she muttered, then Summoned a few potions that quickly flew into her hand. “Oh, Severus, I’m sorry I didn’t see you sooner.” Her words had Harry stunned and glued to the spot, an icy chill traveling down his spine as he watched her pour potions down his throat. “Help me lift him, Potter.”

The command jolted Harry aware and he lifted Severus’ shoulders effortlessly while Madam Pomfrey gave him another potion.

“That’s right, Severus, wake up now. Cough.”

The raspy breathing became louder before Severus sounded as though he was trying to take a deep breath, but instead gave a raspy, deep cough that sounded horrible to Harry.

“What’s wrong with him? Was he cursed?”

“No, he’s developed pneumonia. He gets a terrible upper respiratory infection every year, and it’s settled in his lungs now. It’s my fault, I should have—” She must have noticed how horrified Harry looked, because she paused for a moment and said, “He gets ill every winter, Potter. You’re in for quite a treat.” She smiled softly and said, “I believe he’ll be fine, now that he’s being treated. We just need to get some stronger potions into him.”

Harry sat down on the bed behind Severus, still propping him up and holding onto his chest as though he could remove the fluid in his lungs that way.

“He’ll be all right?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

“I think so. There’s a potion in my office that he needs. I’ll be right back.” She smiled at them both as she closed the door.

His body shaking, Harry felt a strange numbness flow through him. The fear he’d felt earlier left him, and in its place was the most terrible, tentative hope.

It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t actually be this easy, he thought. He gripped Severus’ chest tighter and closed his eyes to feel for him through the bond.

“Severus?” he whispered, feeling as though he was stronger now than he had been a few moments before. The hope came back, more substantial, and Harry held his breath as he listened to Severus breathe.

His chest grumbled and then he coughed loudly, tilting his head back and opening his eyes. Harry gasped and held him tighter.

“Harry?” Severus asked, his voice low and weak.

Harry couldn’t help himself. He laughed, the sort of laugh that came with the sudden extinguishing of fear and exhaustion, and held Severus tighter. He felt hope return to him as Severus began to cough again, and Harry titled him up a bit more to help.

“Severus,” Harry gasped, kissing his hair and his temple and his cheekbones. “Shh, I’m here. Everything’s going to be all right,” he whispered, a laugh still in his voice and the light in the room suddenly seeming to burn brighter. “Shh. Rest. I’ll take care of you.”
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Pains and Contradictions