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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.

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Discharge Procedures

�I think his enthusiasm for service is fading,� someone's voice said. Severus did not know the person by name, and in the semi-dark of the room he could barely make out the faces of his owners.

�Why do you say that?�

�What do you think? I could get better with a whore in Knockturn Alley...�

�Is that so? Well, this won't do.�

Severus tensed slightly when someone's hands grabbed him and dragged him across the room.

A hand struck him across the face. �How many times have I told you? Tensing is a form of resistance.�

He knew that, of course, but the instinctive reaction still emerged at times, even after years of torment. He was getting better at that though, he was certain of it. He forced his body to become loose and pliant. He made no sound when they restrained him to the chair.

The man towered over him and struck him again. �Why do you think we let you keep your hands in the first place? Do you even realize how lucky you are? �

He bowed his head. They were right of course. They were always right.

Another blow. �Answer me! Why do you think we let you keep your hands?�

Some old and barely familiar emotion welled up inside, and then, probably due to a random misfiring of neurons, rather than a conscious attempt at sarcasm, Severus said absently,

�Perhaps you wanted me to brew you a beauty potion?�

He regretted the words the moment they fell off his tongue. Why did he say that? He always said something to make things worse for himself, and the triumphant smile on his captor's face only confirmed it.

�Forgive me,� Severus begged quickly, but of course, it was too late.

�Shut it,� his owner ordered. �You are right, you know. He's become too comfortable. Break his fingers.�

�Too easy,� the first voice said. �I've got something else in mind...�

Only a minute later he found himself screaming, and, in his dazed, disoriented state, he could not understand why, or what was being done to him. When he finally managed to crane his neck and glance at the site of blazing agony, he finally understood � skin was being lifted off and stripped from his right hand, exposing bare flesh to the air.

~*~

Severus woke up to the sight of Harry Potter's face looming over him. He blinked in disbelief, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light of the room.

Memory was returning slowly, in little bursts, and he sorted through the fragmented recollections, trying to distinguish reality from fantasy. He remembered Harry Potter crouching next to him on the dungeon floor, reaching out to him. He remembered mirroring the gesture exactly, and then, grasping his owner's hand like a lifeline. That had been real, he decided finally.

He could also recall drifting in and out of consciousness, only to become aware of his pain receding, and his injuries being tended to. The healing, in itself, was not unusual. His captors had healed him every three or four days, only to ensure he remained alive, to endure more. Pain relief was the only thing that was different this time. He recalled Harry's voice, advising him that he was in St. Mungo's. So that had been real, too.

He also had a vague memory of sitting up in the middle of the night and being held up in the young wizard's embrace, but that clearly had been a delusion.

Harry Potter's voice jolted him back to reality.

�Hello,� Harry said.

�Hello, Master,� Severus responded.

Just from watching Harry Potter's face Severus could tell instantly that the returned greeting somehow fell short of his owner's expectations. He bowed his head and waited for correction.

�Not Master,� the young wizard said quietly. �Just Harry.�

�Harry,� Severus repeated mildly. Harry, he repeated to himself. Harry. This would take some time to get used to, but he really did not want to make a mistake and screw this up. He was quite certain that the pain-free bliss would not last forever, but there was no sense in rushing the inevitable misfortunes either.

�I take it you know what happened?� Harry asked him. His voice sounded strained. �Back in the Shrieking Shack, I had cast the spell on you, that...� Harry's voice trailed off, and he looked at him as if hoping Severus would complete the statement.

Severus nodded. �I know, Harry. I remember.�

Harry's expression grew a little more miserable.

�I'm sorry,� Harry said nervously.

Severus winced slightly as Harry's nervousness began to affect him as well. Why was the young wizard apologizing? Severus was his property and Harry Potter was free to do with him as he pleased. Whatever he wanted to do, nobody would be able to question him or condemn him. So what the hell did Harry Potter mean to do to him, that required apologies? He hoped his face did not betray too much emotion, when he asked, �What do you intend to do with me?�

�Well,� Harry said, taking a deep breath, �Long story short, we have a legal problem on our hands. The Ministry of Magic believes that you are guilty ... and in the last battle, we'd lost all proof of your innocence. Dumbledore's portrait was burned, and the Pensieve with your memories was destroyed as well, or so we think...we� couldn't find it afterwards...�

He should have been more in control of his reaction, but Severus could not suppress a slight shudder at the mention of the Pensieve. The word alone had the power to evoke too many horrifying associations.

�What is it?� Harry asked.

�The Pensieve with my memories was captured by the Death Eaters in the last battle,� Severus explained. �That's how they learned of my treason. In their minds, I had cost them the war.�

Harry's face drained of all color. �I didn't think something like that could happen,� Harry said. �I had left it in the Headmaster's Office after viewing it. I didn't even think to hide it... didn't even think that the school could be stormed and it might fall into the wrong hands.� Harry cast another anxious glance at Severus.

Severus nodded wordlessly, attempting to still himself. Harry's anxiety was not very comprehensible to him, but it was definitely contagious.

�Well, to cut a long story short,� Harry continued, �the Ministry of Magic doesn't believe me now. I am not certain how soon we can clear your name. It might take a little while. Meanwhile, instead of Azkaban, you could come home with me,� Harry said uncertainly.

Severus stared at him blankly, trying to gauge the possible reasons for Harry's uncertainty. Harry intercepted his gaze and spoke again.

�I will need to share the information on the slave-bond with the Ministry of Magic so that you could come home with me,� Harry explained, and looked at him expectantly.

Severus bowed his head. That much was blindingly obvious, to the point that he wasn't sure why he was being informed of it.

�Of course,� Severus said quietly.

Harry smiled a little, but without happiness. �Just like that? No cursing me? No calling me names?�

Severus glanced at him in surprise. Was Harry Potter disappointed that he wasn't fighting? Why?

�Do you wish for me to go to Azkaban?� Severus asked guardedly.

�Of course not,� Harry protested. �I just didn't think you would agree so quickly.�

Severus did not know how to answer that and simply continued to sit in absolute silence.

�All right,� Harry said, clearly ill at ease. �I'll get things started then.�

~*~

Harry could have kissed both Ron and Hermione for being there for him that morning.

Hermione Jean Weasley, n�e Granger, Harry decided, was a miracle worker, at least where legal matters were concerned. While Ron was standing outside of the ward unobtrusively, keeping guard over Severus Snape, Harry paced outside the guest lounge and listened with gleeful satisfaction to the shouting match between Diggory and n�e Granger. Or rather, it was Diggory who was shouting through the Floo connection, and Hermione's cool rational voice was responding to every objection with blessedly impartial facts.

Eventually, it was over, and then, it was Marietta Edgecombe�s turn to read him the riot act, while Harry listened, taking mental notes.

�Plenty of fluids, all right? Bland foods at first, small portions, try to make sure he eats at least four or five times a day to get used to it. No strenuous physical activities, gentle exercise only, and only if he's willing. Let him get plenty of sleep. Do you have a spare bedroom, or is he going to be sleeping on your couch for the next year? Harry Potter, are you listening to me?�

�Of course I am listening,� he assured her. �We've got a spare bedroom. What is his physical condition?�

�Most injuries have been completely healed, however, some scar tissue is still there, as scars caused with aid of Dark Magic are more difficult to remove. The treatments are rather unpleasant, and I am not recommending exposing him to more unpleasant stimuli than absolutely necessary at this point. His lungs, his stomach, and his kidneys had sustained some permanent damage. His eyesight is at about seventy percent of what it used to be. In fact, his teeth are about the only part of him still in amazingly good condition, after all this time. It looks like his captors did not damage that, at least.�

�Why didn't they?� Harry asked numbly. �Not that I'm complaining, mind you...�

She gave him a long look. �Have you ever received fellatio from someone who had broken or chipped teeth?� Marietta asked bitterly.

Harry stared at her in disbelief. �You mean� they... he..? No!� he stammered pitifully at the gruesome revelation.

�Articulate and bright as ever, I see,� she said tersely. �May god forgive me for releasing a trauma victim into your hands, Harry Potter. No screaming or yelling around him,� she continued grimly. �If you and your wife have issues to work out, take them outside, do you understand me? Do not, I repeat, do not expose him to anything upsetting or disturbing. Don't grab him, don't paw him, don't raise your voice at him, don't hound him, and don't harass him. Find out what his boundaries are and honor them like an Unbreakable Vow. I have packed a bundle of books on helping survivors of torture and sexual abuse, you will read them, memorize them, and follow the instructions religiously. I will be checking on him every week. If something goes wrong, you know where to find me.�

~*~

Along with the promised books, Marietta deposited a large paper bag in Harry's hands. He peeked inside, and discovered a change of clothing. The garments were plain, black, clean, fresh-smelling and, Harry discovered, Snape-sized.

His face was probably frozen into an expression of perpetual confusion, because Marietta shook her head and scolded him again,

�Don't tell me you were planning to parade him through the streets in a hospital gown?�

�Of course not!� Harry protested. �I would have transfigured his gown into something more normal...�

�Right,� she nodded. �Bad idea, unless you enjoy having a full-blown panic attack on your hands.�

�Huh?�'

�You realize, don't you, that most spells that were cast on him in the last seven years, were not exactly benign? My recommendation is that over the next few months you do not point your wand at him at all unless in case of emergency. In fact, try to avoid waving your wand around him altogether, as much as you can, for the first few months.�

�All right,� Harry agreed meekly, having to admit that she had a point. �Thank you, Marietta.�

�Don't mention it. Now sit down and wait. I am going to run some more tests on him, and there's more paperwork coming your way.�

~*~

�What the hell is that?�

�That, Mr. Potter, is the hospital bill.�

It was already quite late in the evening. The discharge proceedings were taking longer than Harry had anticipated, and the final straw was the atrocious figure on the bill that was now resting in Harry's hands.

�Is this some sort of joke?� Harry snapped. He hated being petty and arguing over paying for Snape's care, but the blasted thing had caught him off-guard, and the simple, stupid truth of it was that he did not have that much money sitting in his Gringotts account. Hermione, who was standing next to him, took the bill out of his hands and surveyed it with a stunned look on her face.

�You are charging him for medical help?� Hermione sounded even more scandalized than Harry felt. �Are you out of your minds? Healthcare is free for everyone!�

�For human beings and magical creatures, it is,� the hospital administrator said humorlessly. �However, due to Mr. Snape's legal status...�

�And whose brilliant idea was this?� Hermione demanded. �Don't try to tell me that you somehow conveniently remembered some archaic, obscure law about slavery, and decided to implement it.�

�The instructions came directly from the Minister's Office,� the Administrator said apologetically. �We received an official memo, reminding us that the hospital funding is not to be used for...�

�Diggory,� Hermione spat with loathing. �He is going to make this as difficult as possible, I see.�

Marietta Edgecombe was eyeing Harry with clear distaste.

�Harry, I've never thought you to be this greedy,� she accused. �With your wealth, this bill shouldn't be much of a problem for you.�

�Seven years ago, it wouldn't have been,� Harry agreed absently. �Now, however...�

She shook her head with disdain. �You've squandered the entire Potter fortune in seven years?� she asked incredulously.

�I didn't exactly anticipate something like this, all right?� Harry retorted sourly.

Next to him, Hermione took a deep breath. �Look, Harry, Ron and I have some savings, and Arthur does, too. I'll firecall Pomfrey and Hagrid, and I think between all of us...�

�No,� Harry cut her off, as the initial shock had worn off and a sudden flash of inspiration graced him. �It's fine. I've got it.�

As liberal as he'd been with spending his father's inheritance, he had never brought himself to sell the land of the Black Estate. The land was not of any use to him, but the mere thought of parting with the most tangible reminder of his godfather had been unbearable. Now the decision was reached effortlessly and he breathed a sigh of relief. Who knew that his sentimentality would come in so handy one day?

�I'll sell the Black Estate,� Harry told her.

Hermione's lips quivered into a semblance of a smile. �You are going to make Sirius Black pay for Snape's healthcare? Harry! Your godfather will be spinning in his grave.�

�He hasn't got a grave,� Harry felt the need to point out.

~*~

Harry entered the ward carrying the paper bag with clothing in his hands. Snape was sitting on the hospital bed hugging his body with his arms. In his paper-thin hospital gown the older wizard looked unbelievably... fragile. The man had always looked larger than life to Harry, or if not larger, then definitely taller. Now... now that Harry was �all grown up�, as Molly and Arthur said, he and Snape were almost the same height.

He was startled to realize that Snape's enormous eyes were fixed on him, scrutinizing him intently.

�It's done. We can go home,� Harry said. �Here. Marietta got you some clothes.�

He placed the paper bag on the bed next to Snape. Snape stood up instantly and without even waiting for Harry to turn around, stripped off his hospital gown and proceeded to dress himself. There was no hesitation or embarrassment in the man's body language, as if being exposed was completely inconsequential to him.

Harry turned away quickly, but still caught a brief glimpse of the gruesome scars that overlaid the man's back and backside. Harry shut his eyes tightly and choked back an outraged exclamation.

Perhaps Diggory and others were right, Harry thought absently. Perhaps he really didn't do enough while heading the Auror Office, and perhaps, Harry thought bitterly, he really wasn't the right man for the job. If he had worked harder to locate and dismantle the Death Eater hideouts and compounds, if he had been more competent... maybe Snape would have been found sooner.

He cast a cautious look at Snape. The older wizard was done dressing. His face looked absolutely unreadable, but Harry could tell that there was something like anxiety in his gaze.

�It's going to be all right,� Harry assured him. �I won't lie to you, my home isn't the most comfortable place to recover. Ginny and I... well, we fight a lot, and she can be a little spiteful when she's angry... so can I, actually... and my daughter is a handful, too... but we'll do our best to let you have some peace and quiet, and it'll be safe. You'll be safe there. I promise.�

The anxiety in Snape's eyes did not recede as far as Harry could tell. If anything, it only intensified. Probably not surprising, given their less than brilliant history, Harry thought tiredly.

�Look, whatever the legal papers say, you aren't my property, all right? Not in my mind,� Harry told him firmly.

No answer came, but Harry did not expect one at this point. A moment later Ron and Hermione joined them in the ward, and together, the four of them left St. Mungo's. For the life of him, Harry could not tell whether Hermione and Ron's presence made things better or worse for Snape; the man's face was an impassive mask, betraying no reaction to anything around him.

To Be Continued...

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Proof of Life