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One Thousand Days	By : Ataraxia Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 7792 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise and do not profit from this story.

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...beep...beep....beep...beep...

The steady pulse crept into his consciousness slowly. He knew he'd heard something similar to that before, but he wasn't sure where.

...beep...beep...beep...beep...

The sound was muffled; he felt like he was underwater. He tried desperately to focus on it, to drag himself out of his foggy state. That beep was a beacon, a guide; something to pull him from the depths.

He concentrated, allowing the sound to come into focus....beep...beep...beep...beep...

The fog was slowly lifting, but his brain felt muddy and slow. Focus, he begged himself, where are you?

He had no idea.

He didn't have much to go on aside from a strange astringent smell. He couldn't place it, but it smelled unpleasantly sterile. It was an unnatural smell; chemical certainly.

What else did he know?

He knew he couldn't move, that was for sure. As far as he could figure he was lying supine somewhere, in what he could only presume was a bed. His skin was covered in some kind of fabric, but his face and neck were both exposed. He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn't listen; his lids resting heavily over his onyx spheres. With a concerted effort, the man attempted to move his legs, his feet, even just to wiggle a toe. Nothing.

He sighed.

"Did you hear that?" exclaimed a shocked voice.

His mind jumped, snapping to full focus.

"Hear what?" came another, somewhat familiar, male voice.

"I could have sworn I just heard him sigh."

He heard footsteps approaching him.

"I think you're hearing what you want to hear" came the second voice, softly, yet drenched in scepticism. The second voice was slightly higher and silkier than the first. God, it's familiar...

"No, I'm positive, I heard something." The first voice was firm. "And honestly, doesn't he look like he has more colour?"

The silky voice snorted "Colour? The man's idea of a tan is going from 'alabaster' to 'porcelain'"

"You should talk," the first voice said harshly. "You're like the Aryan race poster child. You could pass for albino as long as nobody looked at your eyes"

There was a huff of indignation.

"Seriously," continued the first voice, "you're so pale you're practically reflective. If you ever went on a tropical vacation, you would blind the locals..."

"Shut up, Potter, I get your point"

Potter... Potter... That's supposed to mean something... something really important.

Desperate to communicate, the man in the bed focused all his attention to his breathing. It seemed to be the one thing he had any control over. He sighed again, as deeply as he possibly could. It made his lungs ache.

"THERE!" said the first voice. "I told you, something was different. Maybe he's waking up."

"Harry..." the silky second voice said.

Harry? An alarm went off in the man's head. Visions came at him fast and hard. A boy in glasses, a child, really, staring into a cauldron. A gold and red tie. A flash of crimson riding on a broomstick, narrowly escaping an angry dragon. A lightning shaped scar on his forehead. A white ethereal stag charging from the tip of a young man's wand.

His mind was assaulted with images, all detached and separate. His heart began to pound in his chest, almost painfully. Harry, Harry... Harry...He shuddered.

"Something's happening" said the first man urgently, "Draco, look, he's twitching. Call the Grangers, now!"

Hurried footsteps across the floor, the creak of a door opening. He focused hard on these things, willing his eyes to open.

A hand touched his, warm and firm. "Professor... professor… Are you there? Can you open your eyes?" The voice was desperate.

He directed all the concentration on the hand. On his hand. A shock like electricity ran up his arm, and then he felt the warmth of fingers touching his own. Gathering what little strength he had , the man tried to channel it all into his index finger.

It twitched.

There was a gasp from beside him.

Move the finger, move the hand. Move anything... communicate! He begged his body to obey him, and slowly he felt his finger curl around the soft hand.

"Professor..." the voice cracked. "I'm here, please... open your eyes"

A clamour in the room. Lots of footsteps. Two sets, no wait... maybe three."What's happening?" asked a new voice, a woman's.

"I'm not sure" said the voice beside him "He sighed, deeply twice. Then he started to twitch, and now-" the hand squeezed his; he managed a feeble squeeze back.

"My god, is he waking up?" asked the unfamiliar female voice.

I'm trying my best, woman! He thought, as if his words would somehow penetrate her mind.

He concentrated on his breathing, willing his lips and tongue to move. Everything was so dry and sore. He forced a breath out, trying to form it into words; it was barely a wheeze.

The hand squeezed his more tightly, with silent encouragement.

Try again. He focused, feeling his lips twist in an attempt to shape the word. His eyelids flickered feebly until he managed to force them open, just slightly more than a crack.

"Harry...?"

The room went silent. Somehow his quiet utterance of one man's name had calmed the calamity that had surrounded him. He forced his eyes open again, but had to shut them immediately. The light was absolutely blinding.

"Draco, the lights!" commanded the voice beside him. Hurried footsteps, then a soft click.

"It's okay" soothed the voice, Harry's voice. "You're at the Grangers'. They've been taking care of you for ... a while".

Why did he hesitate when he said "a while"? How long have I been here?

He forced his eyes open again and looked at the face hovering over him in the dim light. Everything was blurry, but he could make out a shock of black hair and glasses. Rectangular glasses... wait, that's not right. He continued to search the face that was slowly swimming into focus. It was Harry Potter, that was for sure, but something seemed so… off. He couldn't place it.

The young man in front of him smiled broadly, relief written all over his handsome features. Disarmingly green eyes flickered as he seemed to blink back something. Tears? That seemed strange. "Do you know who you are?" Harry asked, his voice breaking slightly.

The man in the bed took a deep breath and managed a feeble scowl "Of course" came the barely audible reply "I'm Severus Snape."

*

Snape watched at the young man's face nearly melted with relief. "Really, Potter…" he wheezed, "Compose yourself."

Harry laughed as the tears he had been holding back streamed down his face. Droplets of saline caught in the dark stubble on his cheek, catching the daylight that crept in from around the blinds on the windows.

Severus feebly attempted another scowl.

He looked about the room he was in, his vision still slightly hazy. It was a clean room with two large windows, over which opaque white curtains had been drawn. There was a large wardrobe at the foot of his bed, and a stand which had a black rectangular object on it. He frowned as he searched his mind for the appropriate word. Television. That's it, it was a television.

There were two large, well stuffed chairs across from the television, and that was about the extent of the objects he recognized in the room.

A middle aged woman with strangely familiar unruly auburn hair was standing in front of a smaller television-like device that was mounted to a chrome pole. ...beep...beep...beep...Ahhh, so that's what that sound had been. Red, blue and green lines crossed the screen, flanked by a seemingly random assortment of numbers. Strings ran from the machine to the bed where he was laying. He started when he realized those threads were attached to his chest.

Harry must have noticed his confusion. "It's Muggle medicine," he explained slowly. "After the attack, potions and incantations didn't seem to help you. You were taken to a Muggle hospital where they patched you up as best they could." He gestured to the perplexing number of tubes and wires that were running out of Severus' body. "These machines have been keeping you alive since."

Severus watched as the strange woman walked to the head of the bed where she fiddled with another machine on another pole. It held a bag of clear fluid that dripped into a small tube, which, he noticed in disgust, seemed to be implanted in his arm. A tiny amount of blood seemed to be flowing out of his arm and backing into the tube. It turned his stomach. How utterly barbaric.

"It's an intravenous drip," the woman explained, "it's been hydrating you and providing you with any necessary medications since you've been here. You'll also notice that there's a tube in your nose that goes into your stomach. That's how we've been feeding you"

He twitched his lip and felt a second piece of tape that held the feeding tube in place. He could feel the tube continue through his nasal cavity and down the back of his throat. That certainly explains the discomfort. I thought I had just swallowed a blast-ended skrewt.

"I'm Jean" the woman said smiling "Jean Granger… Hermione's mother."

Upon closer inspection, there was no mistaking the resemblance. Aside from the auburn and utterly unruly hair, her warm eyes sparkled with a familiar kindness and intelligence.

"Jean and her husband took you in," explained Harry. "They're dentists, but dentists are doctors, and they're the parents of a witch, so they seemed to be the safest choice".   Snape felt the hand squeeze his again as Harry smiled comfortingly.

Jean smiled warmly. "It's good to see you up. I'll let the boys have a few minutes with you and come back to check on your later"

Severus inclined his head in the slightest of nods. Merlin, why was such a small gesture as that so difficult? He licked his lips and tried to speak again "St. Mungo's..?"

Harry shot a look back to Draco, who somehow paled. Well this can't be good news.

The Malfoy boy pulled both the chairs up to the side of the bed so he and Harry could sit down.

Draco took a deep breath. "There are some things that you need to know, and they might be a little bit shocking." he paused "I'm not sure how much you remember..."

Voldemort, the final battle, the elder wand, the snake. The images came rushing forward in an unrelenting mass, pummelling him mercilessly. His eyelids slammed shut as if to block them out. Bile rose in his dry throat; he would have thrown up if he were physically able. Severus felt Harry's hand squeeze his in gentle reassurance.

"Nagini..." he forced the whisper.

Draco nodded. "Yes. Voldemort set her on your because he believed you needed to die so he could master the Elder Wand. He didn't realize it at the time, but the true master of the wand was me."

Severus nodded, he remembered.

Malfoy continued, his voice cracking slightly. "You saved my life," he said shakily, "and I thought I'd never get to actually thank you."

Severus watched in wonder as the cool, sculpted face crumpled. The boy covered his face with his elegant hands and wept silently, unable to speak any more.

Harry continued for him. "After the battle, which we obviously won (since we're sitting here), Aurors found you still alive. I mean, barely alive," he emphasized, "but you were there. You'd bled out a lot, but it looks like you'd taken some kind of anti-venom and blood replenishing potions to prevent yourself from completely exsanguinating. We patched you up as best we could, and got you to St. Mungo's. The healers tried their best, but potions and magical remedies didn't seem to be working." Harry bit his lip and shook his head before continuing. "You weren't getting any better. In fact, many of the standard healing potions seemed to edge you closer to the brink of death. Your body was rejecting everything." He paused, allowing Snape to take it all in."Muggle medicine was Hermione's idea. We took you to a hospital, and they kept you for a while."

Severus arched one eyebrow in puzzlement "A while?"

Harry nodded, slowly. "You were in a coma. You could breathe on your own, but that was about it. After some time, they agreed you were stable enough to be released to the care of the Grangers. They've been looking after you ever since."

Draco had finally composed himself enough to speak. "We come visit you a lot," he said, softly. "Between Hermione, Harry and I, someone's been here every day."

Severus looked at the platinum haired youth; there was something different about him, too. What was it? He looked healthier than Severus had ever seen him. He was no longer drawn and sickly, but there was something more to it than that. His face looked wider, his eyes seemed... wiser.

Severus looked back at Harry with alarm. No, it can't be, he thought, frantically. Harry's shoulders were so broad...and even sitting he seemed so tall... so much older.

Snape's eyes went wide with alarm. "How long?" he whispered.

The boys looked at each other, panic clearly written on both their faces. "It's doesn't matter..." Draco began.

"How. Long?" Severus repeated, using what little strength he had to instill his voice with cold rage. "Weeks?"

Harry flinched uncomfortably "Professor..."

"Months?" Please don't tell me I've been in a coma for months. He looked back at Harry, trying desperately to read his face.   Black bangs flopped onto the young man's forehead as he looked down to avoid his professor's gaze.

"How many months, Potter?" Snape cringed at the sound of defeat and resignation that had crept into his own voice.

Harry took a deep breath. Severus watched his green eyes fill with sadness as he spoke, "Thirty-three."

Every fibre of Severus' being froze.

Thirty-three.

Thirty-three months.

Two point seven years...

Around him, the machines started to chime frantically; alarming everyone around of the patient's distress. Severus didn't even notice; the sounds muddled together into a thick ooze that failed to penetrate his mind. The room swirled around him as his consciousness slipped into the blackness that had held him captive for the past 142 weeks...

-

A cool cloth wiped his forehead. He could feel it catching loose tendrils of hair.

....beep....beep....beep....beep....

Oh... fuck.

It wasn't a dream. He was here, in a bed, awakened after almost three years in a coma.

Three years...

It's 2001.

Black eyes shot open in alarm.

"It's okay…" soothed a voice. Snape looked to the woman above him, the one who was so gently mopping his brow with the cool cloth. Jean.

"You've been sleeping, you had an awful lot to deal with yesterday."

Yesterday? Confusion marred his features as he looked at Hermione's mother. She set the cloth back down into a dish of water, and pushed his damp hair off of his forehead.

"How are you feeling?"

Snape ran a dry tongue over his lips. "Thirsty."

Jean nodded. "Okay, I'm going to sit you up, yeah? Just relax, the bed is going to move." She reached down to press a button which elevated the upper half of his bed. Hydraulics hummed underneath his mattress; it was an odd feeling. Wizards were not used to dealing with things so... mechanical. Jean lifted a glass of cool water to his lips and he sighed with relief as the first refreshing sips ran down his parched throat. He raised his hand to take the glass from her, but could barely lift his arm an inch off the bed.

"Atrophy." Jean explained, gently. "You have a fair bit of muscle loss, and the muscles you've kept haven't been used in almost 3 years. It will take some time and rehabilitation to get them back." She smiled reassuringly, "But they will come back, Mr. Snape, I assure you."

"Severus," the man corrected, hoarsely. "After all this, formalities seem a little excessive."

"Very well, Severus." She said, patting his shoulder with affection. "It is a rather elegant name, isn't it? It would be a shame not to use it. Now, Hermione, Draco and Harry are all at work but they'll be popping in afterwards if you're up to it. I'm sure you have many unanswered questions. In the meantime, let's discuss your recovery."

Severus listened to the woman speak, but most of what she said was lost on him. Muggle rehabilitation was a long and confusing process which sounded enormously difficult. His brows knit together as he tried to make sense of the entire ordeal. Truthfully, he still didn't understand why he couldn't just take a restorative potion and be up and walking in a week. What was it Harry had said about potions and spells not working on him?

Must have been poorly brewed potions, he assured himself. Probably something concocted by an idiot. Or worse,       he shuddered inwardly, a Longbottom. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that this "rehabilitation" would be completely unnecessary. After all, he'd lost enough time hadn't he?

By the end of the day, Jean had removed the feeding tube from his nose, a process which felt akin to being turned inside out. He cringed as he thought about what having his catheter removed was going to feel like; he could only assume something like vivisection, or maybe the Cruciatus curse. He'd endured crucio before, but that had never been aimed specifically at his manly bits.

In such a short time, Severus had come to trust Jean implicitly. Whether it was her kind voice or sureness of hands, he couldn't be entirely certain. Grudgingly, he even allowed her to bathe him and wash his hair.

As she sponged him down, gently but professionally, he took in the feeble figure that was now his body. His hands, which had always boasted long slender fingers, looked like they belonged on a man twice his age. Ugly blue veins extended from his skin, which seemed papery and almost translucent. His arms were stick-like protruberances jutting from his bony shoulders.

Snape could clearly count each of his ribs, although his hair was now so long that it covered most of them when it was laid out on his chest. His hips looked sharp enough to cut through his skin and what little fat he'd had on his abdomen had been broken down and absorbed. Snape smirked as Jean carefully washed his groin: although he'd never had a reason to worry about appearances in that particular area, his shrunken frame accentuated one of his favourite features nicely. Silver lining to everything, I suppose.

She had just finished up and was tying his shiny black locks into a smooth ponytail when Hermione, Harry and Draco arrived.

"Professor!" the young woman squealed, running forward to embrace his frail body. "I can't believe you're awake!"

Snape grunted under the tight embrace of the young woman, but he didn't have the strength (or heart,he reluctantly admitted to himself) to peel his former student off of him.

"Well hello to you, too, Granger," he rasped, as she released him from her grasp and sat down on the edge of his bed.

The two boys pulled chairs up to his bedside and sat down, grinning.

"You look so much better" Harry noted, happily.

Severus snorted. "I'm sure that wasn't hard, considering you've practically been staring at a drooling corpse for the better part of three years".

He regarded each of his former students in turn. It was odd to him how they all looked so much older, so much more mature. Hermione had become even more beautiful in the past few years, her heart shaped face now framed by long straight hair with swept bangs. She had traded in her denim and trainers for slacks and high heels, and her shapely torso boasted a soft wool sweater instead of her standard issue hoodie.

Draco's face had lost the hollowness Severus remembered; apparently life without the Dark Lord in his house was treating him well. He was wearing a steel grey suit which complimented his eyes, and a forest green silk tie which he had loosened slightly.

Hermione and Draco's professional attire was countered by their friend. Harry had arrived in workboots and wide-legged jeans that were caked in mud well above the ankle. A green plaid quilted jacket sat loosely across his broad shoulders, and laid open to reveal a dirt-smeared white t-shirt. Three-days growth graced his face, a contrast to Draco's perfectly smooth countenance. Smiling, Severus noted that Harry had finally traded in his ridiculous round glasses for a simple, black wire rectangular frame.

"You look old." he told the trio bluntly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and kissed her professor's cheek, earning herself a blood curdling glower. "Don't be a crank, Professor. You're not fooling any of us now, we know you're a big soft-hearted hero."

He rolled his eyes. "I can safely say I've never been accused of that before," he drawled wryly.

Over the next few hours, the three students caught him up on everything he had missed while he was unconscious. In careful detail, they started by taking turns carefully explaining how the battle of Hogwarts had been won. They recounted the sacrifices made by Fred Weasley, Remus, Tonks, Colin Creevey and the 50 others who fell. They told of Neville's brave slaying of Nagini, causing Snape's eyebrow to arch in a familiar expression of surprise. Aside from that brief lapse, the professor managed to keep his face set in a faҫade of perfect impassivity. He even managed to contain and outward signs of shock at the story of Harry's death and subsequent resurrection.

"Dumbledore." Snape sighed, his voice deep with sorrow, but tinted with the slightest edge of amusement. "I accused him of keeping you alive just so you could die at the right time, you know." He regarded Harry solemnly. "Which I suppose wasn't entirely untrue."

Harry fidgeted in his chair and ran a large hand through his thick black hair. "He had to keep a lot of secrets. I resented him for it, but in the end I understand."

There was an awkward silence as the four reflected on their former headmaster. Snape broke it with an involuntary dry cough.

"Do you need some water, sir?" Harry asked

Snape nodded and gestured to the empty glass on the side table.

"Augumenti."Harry murmured, and the glass filled itself. He brought the vessel to Severus' lips and tried to tip the cool liquid into his mouth. As if repelled by his skin, the water defied gravity and refused to pour towards the awaiting lips.

Snape recoiled in confusion. "What on earth..?"

Draco stared in disbelief "Is it because it's magically conjured, 'Mione?" he asked the girl perched on the Potions Master's bed.

Her brows knit together in puzzlement. "I've never seen anything like it before," she replied, shaking her head, "but it must be. We thought that it was only potions and charms that his body was rejecting, but it must be anything magical at all."

Harry raised the glass to his own lips and downed the water in one fluid motion. "It's not the water itself, it seems," he said, staring at the empty glass quizzically.

"I'll go get you some tap water," Draco volunteered, taking the cup from Harry and exiting the room.

"What is this convoluted business about me rejecting magic?" Snape inquired icily."I'd like to know why I'm hooked up to all these barbaric machines and hoses and being monitored by...televisions." He spat the foreign words with disdain, shooting a glare at the various Muggle habiliments that surrounded him, as if they were to blame for his current misfortune.

"We've been trying to figure that out," explained Hermione. "We think it had something to do with the snake venom. I've been working on and off with Nagini's remains. The Ministry asked me to investigate once they realized how you'd been..." She chose her words carefully "…affected." Her warm brown eyes flicked over his sunken face. "I haven't really made much progress," she admitted, "but now that you're awake I'm hoping we can find more leads."

Snape sighed. "Oh, I see they're as sensible as ever," he drawled, "asking a child to investigate the remains of a dark creature that once contained the bound soul of the Dark Lord. As usual, their bumbling logic never fails to impress."

Hurt flashed in Hermione's eyes and Snape immediately regretted his harsh words.

"Sir, she's not a child," Harry murmured. "She's twenty-one. By seventeen she had accomplished more than most witches two or three times her age."

Twenty-one? Severus deflated slightly. "I'm sorry, Granger. I'm still..."

"I understand," she said, smiling weakly. "I suppose it should be a compliment after you called me old."

Draco had reappeared in the room bearing a glass of water, which he handed to Harry and sat down.

Harry once again raised the glass to his professor's mouth, and this time the contents obeyed the laws of physics and flowed downwards to the awaiting lips.

Severus swallowed the liquid and sighed gratefully. "Thank you, Potter." He heard the weariness creeping into his voice, and remembered what a long day it had truly been.

Harry smiled. "You should rest up, sir," he said quietly. "You need to regain your strength."

Severus nodded his assent, and the three stood up to leave.

"Goodnight, sir," Hermione said, patting his knee gently.

"I'll come by tomorrow." Draco informed him, reaching out to briefly touch the man's shoulder.

"Me too." said Harry. The youth reached out to touch his professor's arm. As his fingers grazed the pallid flesh, a current of energy flowed through them both, causing them each to cry out in surprise.

Snape stared at him, wide-eyed. "What the bloody hell was that, Potter?"

Harry shook his head in bewilderment, rubbing his hands in amazement. "Not sure, sir... static?"

Severus arched his eyebrow sceptically. "Perhaps..."

He tolerated the three for a moment longer as they said their goodbyes, leaving the exhausted man to rest. As his eyes closed, he noticed Draco slip his arm around Harry's waist as they left the room.

Curious...he thought, as his mind drifted into a deep, restorative sleep.

~*~*~

A/N: This story has been batting around in my head for a little while and I've finally gotten organized enough to write it. It will consist of 9 or 10 chapters of approximately 4500 words each. I'm hoping to update once a week on Friday mornings. Thank you to my lovely beta symphonatika for your amazing eagle eyes and endless support.

-Ataraxia

PS. Ratings and reviews, as alwaya, would be greatly appreciated.
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One Thousand Days