gingertart50 (gingertart50) wrote in snape_after_dh, @ 2007-10-16 21:30:00 |
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Current mood: | artistic |
What Harry Potter Did For A Shag
Title: What Harry Potter Did For A Shag.
Author: gingertart50
Type: Fiction
Length: 2000 words
Pairings: Harry Potter / Severus Snape
Warnings: None really apart from DH spoilers
Series: No
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry can’t rest until he has brought Snape’s body back to Hogwarts.
Notes: Prompt: Snape uses animagus powers to live and gets stuck ...
Beta: Rakina.
Text in italics quoted directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
Hermione glanced at Snape’s body, then hurried back to the tunnel entrance. Ron followed her. Harry gathered up the Invisibility Cloak, then looked down at Snape. He did not know what to feel, except shock at the way Snape had been killed, and the reason for which it had been done…
They crawled back through the tunnel.
Snape sucked in a harsh, wheezing breath and let his eyelids drop over his stinging eyes. He lay without moving for a minute, simply breathing and allowing his heart rate to recover.
He had been incredibly lucky. Voldemort could have killed him cleanly with an Avada Kedavra. Equally fortunately, the Granger girl had been too distracted to check his pulse or his reflexes.
Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position and muttered a spell to dispel the illusion of the great pool of blood on the floor. Enough remained to concern him. He touched the wound on the side of his neck. Even minimal movement made blood seep out again, in a sluggish trickle down inside of his collar. The shock coupled with the venom in his system left him feeling shaky and nauseous despite the bezoar he had swallowed before attending the Dark Lord.
He was barely able to stand but he knew that he had to get moving before either side sent someone to recover his body. He gathered up a fold of his robe, pressing it to the wound, and staggered across the room. He clutched the doorframe, panting, and then saw the bloody handprint he had left on the wood and the trail of drips across the floor. Painfully, Snape drew his wand and banished the evidence, then he replaced the wand in his robe pocket, took a deep breath and transformed. No one saw him leave through an open window.
oooOOOooo
Harry, Ron and Hermione stood together, gazing at the bodies that had been laid out in a large room off the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Someone sobbed quietly near the far wall. Molly Weasley and George sat beside Fred’s corpse, whispering together, Molly wiping her eyes. Harry allowed his gaze to wander past them, to where Lupin and Tonks lay side by side. Andromeda Tonks stood talking to Professors Sprout and Flitwick, who had volunteered to aid the grieving friends and relatives.
“I still can’t believe it,” Ron murmured. Hermione squeezed his hand.
“Ron, you stay with your family,” Harry said suddenly. “They need you. I’ve got something I ought to do.”
“You’ve done enough, mate,” Ron told him. Harry shook his head.
“No, this is for me, not for anyone else. Something I promised myself.”
“Snape’s body should be here,” Hermione remarked and yet again, Harry blessed her acute perceptiveness.
“I want to bring him back to Hogwarts, where he belongs.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Hermione said. “Go on, Ron, you look after George and your Mum. We won’t be long.”
Ron nodded and picked his way along the row of the dead. Molly burst into tears and threw her arms around his neck.
“Snape deserves our respect,” Hermione remarked as they walked, side by side, down the hill towards Hogsmeade. “Even if you did hate him.”
“I’m not sure that I did, really. I hated his sarcasm and casual cruelty but that was part of the act. Behind it, there was just this man who loved my Mum and who was pushed around and bullied because the Marauders didn’t like or understand him. He was the Half-blood Prince as well as the dungeon monster.”
“You sound as if… oh, never mind. He’s dead and he made it possible for us to win. We ought to honour that. He was probably quite a good headmaster. Shame he never had the chance to grow into the job.”
Harry nodded. He did not want to see Snape’s body again, yet he had no intention of leaving it to be collected by someone who would treat it without the respect that the man deserved. He intended to ask McGonagall if Snape could be buried near Dumbledore’s tomb.
oooOOOooo
The Shrieking Shack was at its least ominous under the sun. A couple of pigeons cooed and shuffled on the roof, eventually flapping away as Hermione and Harry approached. Harry pushed open the door and something scurried off with a flick of a tail. Hermione pulled a face and they went up the stairs, disturbing moths. Sparrows chattered together under the eaves.
“I hope there aren’t rats,” Hermione said with a shudder.
“We’ve faced worse,” Harry pointed out. “Ron wouldn’t have been happy.” He indicated a particularly large spider, crouching in a web over their heads.
They walked through the doorway, prepared to once again see the body of the fallen wizard. They came to an abrupt stop.
“What the hell?” Harry exclaimed.
“This is the right room, isn’t it? Maybe someone’s taken him already?”
“But where’s all the blood? The man bled to death in here!”
Hermione moved forwards then gave a gasp and crouched down.
“Look, there is blood here, just not as much as we saw. The floor around it is dusty; even if the big pool of blood had been here and someone cleared it up, there wouldn’t be all this dust. I think what we and Voldemort saw was an illusion.”
“You mean Snape cast it? But he was bitten by Nagini!”
“She wasn’t the most poisonous of snakes, was she? Mr Weasley survived multiple bites and I expect Snape was well prepared for Voldemort to turn on him.” Hermione dusted her hands together and stood up. “I’ll bet he’s alive.”
“He must be badly hurt, though.” Harry pointed at the blood with his toe. “You don’t lose that much and just walk off looking for a sticking plaster.”
They looked at each other and drew their wands, turning to the doorway.
They disturbed bats, starlings and mice in the upper rooms, newts and rats in the basement. Hermione caught Harry’s sleeve and pulled him to a halt.
“Do you think Snape was an Animagus?”
Harry shrugged.
“I wouldn’t be surprised, and I bet he never registered. He could be a bloody spider for all we knew.” Harry raised his wand and cast Sonorus on himself. “Snape? You can come out now, it’s safe. The Dark Lord’s dead and we know you were Dumbledore’s man all along. We’re here to help you if you need us.”
They waited. Harry realised that he was trembling, a subliminal thrumming in his veins. He looked around, imagining the rustle of robes and a dark figure stalking out of the shadows, the sharp, medicinal tang of potions on the air.
“I think he’s gone,” Hermione said eventually.
“McGonagall must know where he lives,” Harry said. He had a totally unreasonable and confusing sense of disappointment.
“We can look later, Harry. You know, after the funerals.”
Harry nodded and they made their way out of the shack. Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets and kicked at a stone on the path as he walked.
“I bet if Snape doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. He’ll crawl off and lick his wounds and we’ll never know what happened to him.”
Hermione had nothing comforting to say; she just walked beside him in sympathetic silence.
As they approached Hogwarts, Harry could see a number of people on brooms, swooping across the lake in the evening sunlight. Some of the younger students were celebrating, whooping and yelling as they skimmed the water. He remembered when he had been that young and carefree. Now, all he could think of was the room where the dead lay and the living wept over them.
The giant squid waved a lazy tentacle in a half-hearted attempt to catch one of the third years. A flock of wild geese flew high overhead, calling in their resonant voices, and a cormorant stood with its wings hanging out to dry on the bank.
“That’s odd,” said Hermione. She indicated the cormorant.
The reptilian bird with its snake-like head and greenish-black plumage stared at them as they stopped walking.
“I’ve seen them there before,” Harry told her.
“I doubt it. You’ve seen cormorants before, but that one’s a shag.”
“Pardon?”
“The common or European shag, Phalacrocorax aristotelis. It doesn’t come inland.”
“Is there anything you don’t know?”
Hermione gave a little grin.
“My Dad’s a bird-watcher; we used to go on bird-spotting holidays when I was little. That’s a shag, it has a crest and it’s smaller than the cormorant.”
“And it looks as if it’s hurt,” Harry said slowly. “You see the blood on the feathers at the side of its neck?”
They walked down to the edge of the lake, moving slowly so they did not alarm the bird. The shag stared at them out of mad-looking eyes and said “Awk”.
The bird was so glossy that it looked greasy. It had a sinuous grace that made Harry think of black robes and a silky voice. As he leaned over the injured bird, he caught a faint whiff of potions.
“Will you let us help you?” he asked gently. The shag folded its wings with an awkwardness that suggested pain. Harry reached to pick it up and tucked the bird carefully under one arm.
“What are you going to do with him now?” Hermione asked anxiously.
“Perhaps we ought to get Hagrid to look after him?”
The shag pecked him.
oooOOOooo
The shag looked round from its perch on the back of the sofa as the three friends came into the room.
“I’ve bought you some fresh sardines,” Harry told it. The bird gulped down the silvery fish as if it had not eaten for a week then glared at him and remarked “Kark” in a hoarse voice.
“What does he do all day?” Ron asked.
“Spends his time either perched on the furniture or swimming in the bath.”
“Are you sure it really is…” Ron looked at the bird. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Greasy, evil-tempered and stubborn, who else could it be? Ow!” He jumped back as the narrow head darted out, the tip of the beak striking his hand.
“Ron,” Hermione said reproachfully, “I’m sure he’ll turn back when he’s ready. You shouldn’t be rude about Professor Snape.”
Ron sucked his finger.
“Okay, I’m sorry. Oh yeah, I nearly forgot. Dad said to let you know that Kingsley has not only agreed to the full pardon for Dumbledore’s murder, but Snape’s in line for an Order of Merlin, First Class, for spying for Dumbledore and for all the help with finding the Horcruxes.”
The shag cocked its head as if listening.
“I doubt if Snape’s bothered about stuff like that,” Harry said, with one eye on the bird. “He always wanted to stay in the background, didn’t he? Anyway, you didn’t come here to talk about him. Come and have a butterbeer and tell me what you’re doing about this wedding…”
oooOOOooo
“They’ve gone,” Harry said, much later. The shag flapped down from the back of the sofa onto the hearthrug, stretched upward and transformed into a slim, dark-haired wizard dressed in black. Snape nodded, rearranged his robes fastidiously and settled himself in an armchair.
“Always wanted to stay in the background, indeed.”
Harry plonked himself onto Snape’s lap.
“Serves you right for refusing to come to the Ministry functions.”
“They can credit me with an Order of Merlin in my absence,” Snape huffed.
“You smell of fish,” Harry muttered into his ear, gently running a fingertip over the half-healed gash on Snape’s neck. “When are you going to change back for good?”
“When I’m ready.” Snape settled Harry comfortably on his thighs. “And do buy mackerel next time; you are aware that sardines give me heartburn.”
Harry grinned and kissed the pale skin of Snape’s throat. Snape sighed and leaned back, tucking Harry’s head under his chin and wrapping his arms more securely around the compact, muscular young body. All was well, indeed.
Author's Note: for those who want to know what a shag is, go here!