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Proof of Life	By : emilywaters Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 65994 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Bros., and any other entities involved. I make no money from writing fanfiction.

Chapter List
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First Night

Upon his arrival at St. Mungo's, Harry barely had the presence of mind to firecall Molly and ask her to pick up Lily from daycare. Molly was wonderful as always. She assured him it was no bother at all, more than that, it was her pleasure, and she even assured him she'd tell Ginny it was her idea, and that Harry would be in no trouble whatsoever. Harry didn't believe that last part for a moment, but he was grateful for Molly's effort regardless. Over the past six years she had done her very best to preserve her daughter's marriage and mediate the conflicts between the two of them.

The next twelve hours of Harry's life were spent with him oscillating between heaven and hell.

Severus Snape was alive! Not dead. Not an anonymous body in some unmarked grave. Alive. Truly alive. That blissful thought shimmered in the forefront of Harry's awareness until another, grim realization would rise to the surface and overshadow it.

Presumed dead by everyone, Severus Snape had been imprisoned, and from the looks of it, subjected to the worst tortures and mistreatments imaginable. Harry was no mediwizard and knew no more of health than the basic emergency aid training his Auror job required, but he could not even begin imagine the type of psychological damage someone would be suffering after seven years of ... that.

Just as Harry would be ready to sink into the depths of despair, a tiny voice of hope would chime in again: Severus Snape was alive!

When Harry thought he could handle no more of the bipolar fluctuations of his inner voice, a healer emerged from the ward, and looked at Harry with a weary smile.

�He's out of danger and stable. He is in a secure ward, number 15,� she said. �You can see him now, if you like. My shift is over and I am going home. My coworker, Mari, is in charge for the night. She will help you as needed.�

Harry muttered a quick word of thanks and hurried inside the medical ward.

Inside a large, brightly lit room, there was a lonely hospital bed with a simple metal frame. Harry stopped in the doorway hesitantly, not daring to make a single move and wake the person in front of him. Snape's chest was rising and falling evenly. He appeared to be in a deep sleep, either induced by healing spells or by potions. Harry advanced slowly and cautiously, biting his lip to prevent himself from bawling like a kid at the sight in front of him.

Snape was... emaciated. There was no other word to describe it. He had never had any extra flesh on him, but now he was just skin and bones. The hair on Snape's head was now cut incredibly short. Harry guessed that it was a matter of expediency: either the mediwizards needed to get a clear view of the head injuries in order to heal them, or maybe the hair simply had gotten too matted and tangled over the years.

Harry's eyes fell on the side of the bed, where, to his shock, he saw that Snape's hands, now showing slightly tender-looking pinkish skin, were restrained to the metal frame of the bed. The restraints were magically reinforced, warded against transfiguration or breaking spells, and could only be removed by a person with sufficiently high clearance.

Severus Snape was bound like a criminal.

Harry was about to poke his head out of the ward and call for a healer when he heard the voices behind the door.

�This is neither necessary nor appropriate,� a well-known, strict female voice stated. Harry proceeded to search his brain for her name. Mari simply was not ringing any bells. �There is absolutely no need to restrain him.�

�Your confidence is heartwarming,� a male voice answered. �But our orders come from the Minister of Magic himself. The Death Eater stays restrained.�

�The Death Eater? How do you work that one out?� the voice countered reasonably, if a little venomously. �Why would they be torturing him if he was one of their own?�

�Don't know, don't care,� the Auror (Harry assumed) argued. �Besides, they aren't like us. They are worse than animals. They don't need reasons to do what they do.�

Harry shuddered slightly. He himself might have said something along those lines seven years ago, but to hear those words now, after the war was over, felt incredibly disturbing.

�And how am I supposed to treat him?� the female demanded. Harry still could not recall who she was. The voice was driving him insane. It was so damnably familiar, but he could not match it to a face or a name. �I can't even release him in case of medical emergency!�

�You'll have to work with what you've got,� the unsympathetic Auror answered. �However, if you are saying it's impossible for you to treat him here, I'll be happy to transport him to Azkaban and he can receive the remainder of the medical attention there.�

The female voice muttered an obscenity and then the door of the ward swung open. The mediwitch strode into the room and finally Harry knew who the voice belonged to. Mari was no other than Marietta Edgecombe.

She scowled at him when she saw him.

�Harry Potter,� she said, her voice dripping with venom. �Spending your career chasing down traitors? Tell me, are you and your Gryffindor cronies going to hex 'Sneak' in purple letters onto his forehead as well?�

He scowled right back at her, but unwilling to get into a shouting match and wake Snape, simply said quietly, �He's not a traitor.�

Her expression softened only marginally, and she was still glaring at Harry with open suspicion.

�Can you tell me what's wrong with him?� Harry asked.

�None of your business,� she snapped. �Medical records are confidential and you aren't next of kin. And don't even try to look at his chart, or cast any spells on him, the privacy wards won't let you.�

�Marietta...� he started saying, but she cut him off.

�He's my patient,� she said bluntly. �Whatever political games you and your friends are planning to play can wait until he's awake and lucid.�

�I'm on his side,� Harry protested. �Let me help.�

She scoffed at the suggestion. �You want to help, Harry? My suggestion is that you talk to your pals in the Ministry of Magic and remove this!� she pointed to the restraints accusingly.

�I will,� Harry promised. �I'll firecall Diggory first thing tomorrow morning.�

She pursed her lips into a severe line. �I'll believe it when I see it. Now, if you please...�

�I'm not leaving him,� Harry said stubbornly. She glared at him with distaste and Harry added hastily, �Look, ask the field medic if you want. For some reason he responded to me when we found him. He reached for me. I think I should be around when he wakes up. I am not here to arrest him or interrogate him. I just want to help. I promise. All right?�

Still openly suspicious she nonetheless nodded mutely, finished her scans, and left the room without saying a single word.

Once she was gone Harry pulled up a chair to the bed and dropped himself into it. Snape was still sound asleep, and Harry stared at his weary, exhausted face, wondering what thoughts or memories were running through the older wizard�s sleeping mind. Harry's eyes fell on the scroll attached to the foot of the hospital bed. Medical chart, Harry realized, and on an impulse reached for it. He knew that the security spells would likely deny him access, but he reasoned that it never hurt to try.

To his surprise the scroll opened to him at once, granting him full access to Snape's medical records. For all her protests Marietta must have removed the privacy wards before leaving, Harry thought, and smiled slightly.

His small smile faded at once when he scanned through the record, feeling more and more nauseous with every line. There was extensive scarring, internal and external. There was damage to his optic nerves and it was uncertain how much his vision would be affected. There were broken bones that had been set and healed. There was also evidence of numerous sexual assaults. Harry's hands shook slightly as he set the scroll back in its place and tried to banish the disturbing imagery out of his mind.

For a long time Harry simply sat and watched, listening to Snape's measured, even breathing. Eventually, Harry�s own eyelids grew heavy. Unwilling to leave, he transfigured the chair into another bed and stretched himself out on it. On an impulse he reached for Snape's hand, still restrained to the bed frame, and took it in his. To Harry�s shock, even in his sleep, Snape's fingers twitched and locked with his.

~ * ~

Harry was woken up by the sound of Snape crying out.

He bolted to sit up instantly. Snape was still half asleep and appeared to be completely disoriented. He was struggling against his restraints with surprising strength, threatening to break his own wrists. His entire body was convulsing violently with every attempt to free himself, and with every unsuccessful attempt he appeared to become more and more panicked.

Without dwelling too much on the fact that he was breaking about a dozen or so regulations, Harry pointed his wand at the restraints and removed them. Snape sat up abruptly and his eyes opened wide, appearing more enormous than ever on his sunken, weary face.

�It's all right,� Harry assured him.

Snape stared at him in disbelief.

�Where am I?� Snape asked in a shockingly normal voice.

�St. Mungo's,� Harry said, struggling to keep his own voice as normal as possible. �You've sustained some serious injuries. There was a screw-up with the Ministry, too, but we'll clear it up.�

Snape gave no response, only bowed his head. Violent tremors were rocking his body and he was shaking his head slightly as if to express denial of what was happening to him. Questioning the wisdom of his actions, Harry crawled to sit on the bed next to him and then reached out to draw Snape into an embrace. The rational part of him suggested that he should just let Snape be for now, but every human instinct in his body screamed to offer some kind of reassurance or comfort.

To his surprise Snape made no protest when Harry took a hold of his shoulders. On the contrary, he melted into Harry's embrace as if he had been waiting for it his entire life. Harry held him tightly and rocked his body, as if Snape was a small child. Snape continued to cling to him in a dreamlike, dazed state, without saying a single word. Slowly his trembling subsided and he buried his face in Harry's shoulder, making no sound at all.

Harry himself was nearly shaking at the realization that the formerly proud, self-sufficient man was clinging to him for dear life. It was Snape's easy, effortless acceptance that had Harry unnerved more than anything else. He should have been flinching from every human touch, Harry thought.... but for some reason, Snape wasn't. On the contrary, the man was soaking in Harry's embrace with his entire body.

Lifting a trembling hand, Harry stroked Snape's impossibly short hair and ran his palm along his back.

�Are you tired?� Harry asked, wincing at how horrifyingly idiotic the question sounded under the circumstances.

It must have been the wrong thing to say, as Snape tensed slightly in his arms. �What are your plans for me?� he asked guardedly.

�The immediate plan is to get you better,� Harry told him.

A long pause followed, after which Snape voiced a hesitant confession, �I'm afraid I don't understand.�

�It's all right,� Harry said quietly. He wanted to tell Snape that he was safe here and that nobody was going to hurt him, but... Snape's legal situation was still uncertain, and Harry hated making promises if he wasn't certain he could back them up. �I think you should rest now,� Harry said softly. �Do you think you could go back to sleep?�

�If you like,� Snape said uncertainly.

�I think it'd be a good idea,� Harry said softly, releasing the man from his arms. �Why don't you give it a try, hm? We'll deal with other problems in the morning.�

To Be Continued...

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Proof of Life