Fic: The Day Severus Snape Woke Up In Hell and Spent Seven Minutes in Heaven Before Life Interrupted Title: The Day Severus Snape Woke Up In Hell and Spent Seven Minutes in Heaven Before Life Interrupted His Happily Ever After Author:eeyore9990 Giftee:gatewaygirl Word Count: Including the Title? One Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiillion! Not including the Title: 8665 Rating: PG-13 Pairing: …Is this a trick question? *glances suspiciously at mods* Snarry and a little bit of Ron/Hermione. Warnings: DH spoilers, massive sentient objects, the tiniest bit of exposition, Hermione's bag of tricks, EWE, slightly-out-of-his-mind!Snape, and shocked-speechless!Harry Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction set in the Harry Potter universe. No person or corporation is profiting from this story; it is for entertainment purposes only. Summary: When Hogwarts throws a hissy fit, it's up to Harry to awaken its Headmaster. However, nothing ever goes as planned when Harry is involved. A/N: Heartfelt thanks to all those without whom this fic would not have been finished. You know who you are. More heartfelt thanks to L for the beta and to E for the title. gatewaygirl, this actually started from one of your prompts (Harry and Snape have to work together) and then took on a life of its own. I sincerely hope you enjoy it! Happy Holidays.
Harry woke from his nap feeling… odd and out of sorts. He was still quite numb from the events of the past twenty something hours and though he didn't think he could sleep more if he tried, curling up under the blankets and staying in bed for the rest of his life seemed like a good plan.
Sounds drifted into the dorm from the common room and he rolled onto his back, kicking his feet onto the mattress just once before pushing up onto his elbows and reaching blindly for his glasses. He cursed as he knocked them off the nightstand on the first try. Grumbling, he rolled out of the bed and knelt beside it, patting under the bed and around the table for his now-missing glasses. Finally finding them, he slid them onto his nose, grimacing when he noticed they were slightly lopsided.
Standing, he winced at the ache that still filled his joints, the lingering effects of the Killing Curse Voldemort had used on him. Hitching up his sleep pants, Harry shuffled his way to the door, then down the stairs and into the common room. Somehow he'd known he'd find Ron and Hermione; what he hadn't expected were the ten or so other students.
Raising his eyebrows at Ron, he received only a shrug in reply. Hermione stood and walked across to him, hugging him lightly as she whispered in his ear, "They don't have anywhere else to go."
Swallowing heavily, he nodded, slipping his arms around her in a brief hug before releasing her back to Ron, who managed to hover possessively even from a seated position five feet away. Tipping his head, he motioned toward the stairs and the three of them retraced his steps back to what had once been the sixth year boy's dorm. Harry had automatically chosen a bed in this room in his earlier state of exhaustion. He had no idea whose bed he'd usurped, but he was hopeful that said boy would forgive him.
If he were still alive to be forgiving.
Harry shook that dark thought from his head before turning to Hermione. "What's been happening while I slept?"
"The bodies of the…dead," she glanced worriedly at Ron before continuing quietly, "have been moved and the reconstruction of the castle started. With the magic that the founders built into the foundations of the school, Professor McGonagall expects that the school will be ready for classes again within a fortnight."
Harry blinked, astonished. "That soon? But… it's a mess!"
Ron rolled his eyes at their loopy grins and continued where Hermione had left off. "The Death Eaters who survived have been transported to the Ministry to await trial. They're going to want you to testify against all of them individually." At Harry's dark look, Ron lifted his hands. "Not my fault, mate. Just passing on the information. The injured are either here or at St Mungo's. Pomfrey said to tell you that Snape will be in a potion-induced sleep until his throat heals. After that, she needs to know what to do with him."
Harry tilted for just a moment as vertigo overwhelmed him. "What? Snape? He's… alive?"
Hermione nodded, grabbing his hand. "I'm sorry, Harry. I should have told you sooner. It honestly just slipped my mind, what with everything else that was going on. The battle and all, I mean."
Harry attempted a smile, but could feel it wobbling on his lips. "Yeah, that's… I mean. Wow. He's alive. How did that happen?"
Hermione drew a deep breath, pushing her hair behind her ear. "I went to the Shack like you asked and found his body. I used a few diagnostic spells on a hunch and found that he was still alive. Barely alive, but alive nonetheless. I brought him to Madam Pomfrey and…" She spread her hands. "He's stable now. She had to give him seven doses of blood-replenishing potion, but Mr Weasley's brush with Nagini actually helped there. She consulted with the Healer from St Mungo's and was able to close the wound right away as opposed to the several days it took with Mr Weasley."
"God, I can't believe he's alive. And I just left him there. What must he think of me?"
"Don't worry about it, mate. It's not like we knew he was all right. As far as you were aware, he deserved to die like a dog—"
The grinding of stone on stone shook the Tower, knocking Harry off his feet and sending Hermione and Ron crashing into one another.
"What the bloody fuck was that?"
Harry shook his head at Ron's shout. Checking his friends for signs of injury, he was relieved to see that besides a bit of a bump on each from where their heads must have collided, Ron and Hermione were okay.
"I don't know, but I don't want to be sitting here when it happens again."
Not bothering to take it to a vote, the three scrambled from the dorm just in time to avoid the tower walls crashing together. As they dashed through the common room, Harry felt his stomach drop. It was completely deserted.
Leaping through the portrait hole, they skidded to a halt as they watched the staircases grinding away from them.
The castle shook again and Harry's heart raced as he turned to Ron and Hermione. Suddenly, anger overwhelmed him. "No!" he shouted. "I refuse to have spent the past seven years working against Voldemort to die in an accident less than a day after he's finally vanquished! If this is the work of renegade Death Eaters, I'm going to hunt them down and practice Unforgiveables on them! Accio Firebolt!" he screamed, putting every ounce of intent he'd ever possessed into the spell.
A gagging sound preceded Hermione slamming into him, the pouch around her neck prodding insistently at Harry's forehead. Quickly opening the pouch, he watched his and Ron's miniaturised brooms fly out. Hermione, rubbing at her neck, motioned for Ron and Harry to enlarge the brooms before they climbed on, Hermione riding tandem with Ron.
Swooping through the castle, Harry felt his palms sweating as the walls of the corridors seemed to slide together, barely avoiding squashing the three of them as the walls collided with bone-shaking crashes. Harry allowed Ron and Hermione to go through the huge double doors of the castle in front of him. His breath stalled in his throat as he felt the bristles of his broom pinched for a moment between the stones of the castle before it released him with a jolt.
Hundreds of people stood on the scarred lawn of Hogwarts, staring up at the castle with expressions ranging from horrified to confused. Harry searched for and found McGonagall before landing gently beside where she stood, hands on hips, regarding the castle through narrowed eyes.
"What's going on?" he asked her, turning as he heard Ron and Hermione touch down beside him. He winced as he saw the livid red marks the pouch's cord had made on Hermione's throat. "Err. Sorry, Hermione."
With a weary sigh, Hermione rubbed at the abused skin before shaking her head and saying, "It's fine, Harry. You didn't know I'd put your broom in there."
"Yeah. Good thinking, that. Clever."
"What's happening, Professor?" Hermione asked, turning to McGonagall and bringing Harry's mind back to the situation at hand.
"If I had to make a guess, I'd say the castle has gone into protective mode." McGonagall gestured at the castle and Harry turned to stare in astonishment as the doors and windows vanished, replaced by unyielding stone.
"Headmistress! Headmistress!" Harry turned to see Pomfrey jogging toward them, her skirts hiked up around her ankles and her face flushed with effort. "It booted me out!" she huffed, one hand plastered to her chest as she bent over to catch her breath.
"Booted you out? What about your patients?"
"They're still in there!" Pomfrey shouted, her eyes sparkling angrily. "The castle, it has them!"
"But... why is it doing this?" Hermione asked, bewildered. "Why would the castle keep the patients, only to eject you? Surely it knows they need you? I thought there were wards to prevent this sort of thing!"
Harry shook his head, horror growing inside him. "But the attack, the battle... what if it harmed the castle? What if—"
"Nonsense!" McGonagall said, her jaw thrusting forward as she rolled back her sleeves and approached the solid face of the seven-story castle. Harry watched in astonishment as she put one hand on her hip, the other shaking a finger at the castle as she said something to it that Harry couldn't make out.
"What are you doing?" he asked, terrified that the walls might start moving again, might crush her.
Ignoring him, she raised a clenched fist and said, "Don't think I don't know what you're up to, you old biddy! Throwing a fit of such magnitude is beneath you and your Founders would be severely disappointed in you. Severely disappointed."
Harry pinched himself, certain he must still be sleeping, when the castle produced an open window. A curtain fluttered through, bringing to mind a petulant child poking out its tongue.
"Madam," Harry said, reaching out once more toward McGonagall. "I think perhaps you should lie down."
Apparently just then realising who it was that was addressing her, McGonagall turned and said, "Mr Potter! I'm terribly sorry. What you must think..."
Harry blinked, trying to recall the last time he'd heard McGonagall sound solicitous and realising he couldn't. "It's fine, Professor. You've been under a lot of stress recently and—"
"Not me, boy! The castle!"
Nodding slowly, Harry began to back away. "Yes, of course."
"Oh, don't be daft, Potter. You can see for yourself how it's acting."
Turning to stare at the castle with a dubious look, Harry had to admit, if only to himself, that she was right. There was obviously something very wrong with Hogwarts.
~*~
Harry stared at Madam Pomfrey, wondering if she—if the whole world—had gone mad. "You know," he said, his voice cracking on a bit of hesitation, "I don't know that hydrochloric acid is really the right way to try to get back into the castle.
Most of the surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix had still been at Hogwarts, recuperating after the battle, when the castle had gone into lock-down mode. An emergency meeting had been called, which was how Harry found himself scrunched up beside Ron in Hagrid's hut along with nearly fifteen other people.
"You're right, of course, Potter. Aqua regia! That'll do the trick," Pomfrey said with a cackle, rubbing her hands together.
"Err--"
"Madam, what I think Harry means is that the castle will surely recognise such a threat. It will never let us in if we approach it with intent to harm."
Harry slid a thankful glance toward Hermione, who rolled her eyes behind cover of her hand.
"They've all gone barmy!" Ron whispered, though not quietly enough to avoid a glare from his mother.
Harry hid his smile behind his hand even as he heard Hermione stifle a giggle. Returning his attention to the meeting, Harry raised his voice just enough to cut through the din before he said, "What I don't understand, though, is why the castle has gone crazy. Can anyone tell me that?"
A dozen blank faces stared back at him before Hagrid cleared his throat and said, "Th' Headmaster has been threatened, o' course."
Harry shook his head, not understanding. "What? But Dumbledore—"
"Oh, he's alive, all right. Much good it'll do him, though," Pomfrey said, patting her bun as she hmphed darkly.
"What do you mean?"
"The Ministry. They're determined to 'bring him to justice,' aren't they?"
Harry stared at her, dumbfounded. "But he was on our side. He was helping us. How can they—"
"They don' believe tha', Harry. They think ye've made it all up, the ruddy bastards. You and Pr'fesser Dumbledore."
Harry flailed, unable to comprehend the idiocy of that. "But! I'm… I've never liked Snape! Why would they think I'd lie for him?!"
"Well… he gave himself to ye', Harry. It forms a powerful bond, that."
Harry felt a deep blush rise up his chest and into his cheeks at that. He'd found one of Aunt Petunia's smutty books once while the Dursley's were out and… he couldn't stop the image that rose in his head of Snape—Snape!—'giving himself' to Harry. Coughing to clear his throat, Harry asked, "What do you mean, gave himself to me?"
"He released a flood of memories to you, Harry. That's part of the reason I still have him sedated. If he were to wake without his mind whole, the consequences would be disastrous!"
"Does the castle know that?"
"I'm afraid so. The castle is…. Well, sentient is really the best description of it, though that isn't entirely accurate. Its primary function is to support and protect the Headmaster or -mistress, leaving that person free to protect the faculty and students."
"What about Dumbledore? He was killed here—"
"He wasn't though, was he? Oh, I don't mean to say he wasn't killed, but he was dying regardless. The castle would have known of the pact he had with Severus," McGonagall interjected, drawing Harry's attention to her. "Perhaps he even discovered a way to have the castle aid Severus in escaping that night."
Harry nodded slowly. That actually made sense. It had seemed that no matter how fast he ran that night, Snape was always too far ahead of him until the very end, when he'd sent Draco to safety before turning and confronting Harry.
It would also explain why Voldemort had brought Snape to the Shack. He wouldn't have been able to kill him on the grounds of Hogwarts. The castle wouldn't have let him. Harry felt an uneasy prickle as he wondered if the castle had redirected the poisoned wine to Ron the previous year. Shaking off that rather sickening thought, he looked up at the faces surrounding him.
"So that's the way in, then," he said. The blank looks he received made him shift restlessly. "Snape is in danger. If the castle truly wants to protect him, it will let me in. I have his memories, after all."
~*~
Harry stood in front of the castle, shivering a bit even though the night was pleasantly warm. He just couldn't stop the images his mind supplied of the solid wall in front of him tipping over and squashing him like a bug. Mentally apologising to all the flies he'd swatted in his life, Harry cleared his throat and said, "Hello?"
After a long moment of silence—except the frogs croaking near the Lake and the sound of the wind rustling the tall grass—Harry began to feel an idiot. "Uh, I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I'm here to ask you to let me in. I know you're just trying to protect Professor Snape—"
A threatening groan made Harry take three giant steps back before he rushed to say, "Headmaster Snape! Headmaster! I'm sorry!"
Swallowing down his panic, Harry gingerly stepped forward again and said, "Anyway, I thought you should know that Headmaster Snape is in danger. I have to get in to him. If he wakes up before I see him, he may never recover. I have… I have his memories. Too many of them. He was trying to help me, and I guess he thought he was dying, but he gave me so many memories that if he wakes up without them, he'll—Well, I don't know what will happen, exactly, but Madam Pomfrey—she's the Mediwitch—says that it will be bad. So I need to get in and see him."
Harry stopped speaking, the rush of words leaving his throat feeling dry. After a long moment, he remembered something and leaned forward to say a heartfelt, "Please."
Straightening up, Harry looked around, sensing that something was different. Squinting, he made out a spot low on the wall that looked off from the rest. Dropping to his hands and knees, Harry crawled forward and noticed that it was a—
"Oh, ha bloody ha," he muttered, glancing darkly at the wall in front of him. "A doggie door. That's just hilarious. Must have got Snape's sense of humour, too, eh?"
Shaking his head, Harry pushed through the heavy rubber flap, tumbling a bit down a short slope before he stopped himself and looked around. The castle was… the same. Even the places Harry knew had been damaged in the battle were now smoothed over.
A bit overwhelmed with awe, Harry stared around the castle as his feet carried him automatically to the infirmary. It was exactly the same as it had been the first time he'd walked these corridors. Exactly the same as he remembered it when he had seen it in Tom Riddle's diary.
The castle was constant, never-changing. Such a thought was almost inconceivable; especially when Harry realised that it had been like this for what must have been a thousand years.
For the first time, Harry considered actually reading Hogwarts: A History. A mental image of the enormous volume floated through his mind's eye, and Harry chuckled, realising how unlikely it was he'd actually follow through with that. After all, that's what Hermione was for.
A noise made Harry flinch, whirling as his guilty conscience convinced him that somehow Hermione had managed to follow him and was about to exact retribution for his unspoken thoughts. Seeing nothing, Harry shuddered and renewed his semi-annual pledge to stop taking advantage of Hermione's studiousness and intelligence.
Stopping briefly before the doors to the infirmary, Harry patted his pocket, checking once again to be sure he'd brought the instructions from Pomfrey with him—not that he could have avoided it, what with her following him nearly all the way to the walls of the castle before McGonagall pulled her back. With a deep, steadying breath, Harry pushed the doors open and walked quietly inside.
Where he came to a sudden stop, his mouth gaping open in shock.
The infirmary was empty. The dozens of patients Pomfrey had been helping—gone. Just… Gone.
Fear churned in Harry's belly as he surveyed the room. It wasn't just the fact that the patients were gone that worried him. It was the fact that there was no visible trace of them ever having been here that set his hair standing on end.
A soft glow from the end of the room started Harry walking forward again. As he passed each bed, he shivered, the crisply laundered sheets stretched across the mattresses with hospital-precision. Not so much as a wrinkle marred them; no impressions dented their perfect surfaces.
"What happened here?" he wondered aloud, oddly comforted by the sound of his own voice echoing back to him.
A flare of green caused him to jump, his gaze drawn irresistibly toward the large Floo on one side of the room. Rushing toward it, Harry stuck his head in, wondering where the connection came out. He blinked through the wavery green flames, his jaw dropping open in shock as he saw the familiar worktables of the kitchens with hundreds of house elves scurrying about busily.
"What—" Harry shook his head, then cleared his throat and called, "Hello?"
One of the nearest elves stopped and turned to him, its huge eyes nearly popping from its head as it saw him. "Master Harry Potter?" it squeaked.
Harry opened and closed his mouth before he blew out a breath and said, "Yes. I'm Harry Potter. What are you all doing down here? Didn't the castle try to—"
"We is working. We is good elves. We stays with the castle and we keeps her running. We helps her protect the Headmaster." The elf narrowed its eyes and asked suspiciously, "How did Master Harry Potter get in the castle?"
Harry shrugged awkwardly. "I asked politely? I'm trying to help the Headmaster, but all of the patients are gone. I don't know where anyone is!"
"The Headmaster still in the castle. The others… they sent to hospital for being taken care of. For witches and wizards."
"St Mungos?" Harry asked.
"Yes! St Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Cures. This where they go."
"How did they get there?"
The elf pointed at Harry and he turned to look behind himself before he realised the elf was pointing at the Floo, not him.
"They go through fire."
All right, so that explained where the other patients were—as well as set Harry's mind at ease that the castle hadn't done something like eat them all—but still left one question remaining. "Where is the Headmaster?"
The elf shrugged and looked up as another elf squeaked something at it. "So sorry, Master Harry Potter. Itzy must be going now."
Harry felt a breath of warmth against his face, a warning that the Floo powder used to activate the Floo was running low. He pulled back quickly, just in time to watch the flames turn orange again. Looking around, he didn't see any containers that could hold powder. Foiled in his attempts to call back down to the kitchens, or out to someone else, Harry kicked the hearth in frustration, earning himself nothing but sore toes.
Something pinged him in the back of the head and he yelped, lifting his hand to his hair and extracting a small piece of broken mortar. Wondering where it had come from, he turned around just in time to see the wall waver slightly as a small hole was filled in.
"What was that for?" he asked, rubbing his head. A slow grinding was his answer and he looked around and down toward where the sound was coming from to see the stones he'd kicked glowing slightly. "Ah, umm. Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't think I could hurt you," he murmured, backing away guiltily. "Sorry," he added again, in case the castle had any lingering hurt feelings.
Shaking his head, he pinched himself again. Though he should be used to the magical world altering his sense of reality, every time it did, he found himself shocked all over again. A sentient, nearly vengeful Hogwarts was just something he was having difficulty wrapping his head around.
Looking around, he noted the glow coming from the far end of the room again and began moving toward it. Drawing closer, he noticed that the glow was a light on inside Pomfrey's office, shining out of the cracked-open door. Reaching it, he pushed on it gently before ducking quickly inside.
A ragged breath of relief escaped him as he saw that the office had been set up as a temporary shelter for the still-comatose Snape. The Headmaster of Hogwarts. Harry shook his head in bemusement before slowly approaching the bed that held Snape.
Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the parchment that Pomfrey had given him as well as his wand. Spreading out the paper, he lifted his wand, silently practicing the motions necessary to transfer Snape's memories back to him.
The slamming of the office door warned him that the castle was still there, acting to protect Snape.
Clearing his suddenly dry throat, Harry said, "I'm just helping him. I promise. I won't hurt him."
While the door didn't reopen, the atmosphere in the room lightened until Harry felt that maybe doom wasn't the only thing waiting for him in here. Shaking his head, he placed his wand against his temple and selected all the memories, laying them across Snape's forehead where they writhed like white, gossamer earthworms. His wand shook as he removed the last memory, the one of his mother swinging in the park. Swallowing heavily, he closed his eyes and drew it out, feeling a pit of grief as he gave up that final link to her.
Placing that memory with the others, he waved his wand and said the simple incantation, watching as the memory threads began to—sink was the only explanation—into Snape's head.
Clearing his throat, he said quietly, "Now I'm going to wake him up. He should be fine, but if he's not… will you know? Will you be able to stop him from waking?"
Harry waited a long moment, not knowing what he was expecting, but when Hogwarts didn't make any motions to stop him, he sighed and held his wand over Snape's body, flicking it as he cancelled the sleep spell.
Stepping back quickly, Harry scanned Snape's body, searching for some sign that he'd done it right. That he hadn't done anything to harm Snape further. When Snape's eyelids twitched, he breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank God," he whispered, backing into a wall and slumping against it, the adrenaline that had fuelled him during the last several hours leaking away to leave him feeling weak and unsteady.
His relief, however, was short lived. Almost immediately, Snape's normally pallid complexion began to turn a purplish sort of grey, with hints of blue around his lips and nostrils. Panic overwhelming him, Harry dashed forward and thumped on Snape's too-still chest. Pressing his ear to it, Harry heard nothing but a slowly fading heartbeat.
"Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! Don't you dare die on me, Snape!"
Casting wild glances around him at the walls that appeared to be closing in, Harry did the first thing he could think of. Sealing his lips to Snape's, he blew with slow and steady pressure—
Only to find himself flung backward by Snape himself. Stumbling to his feet in what appeared to be a daze, Snape's gaze bounced wildly around the room before settling on a high-backed chair on one side of his make-shift hospital bed. Harry watched, horrified, as Snape nearly impaled himself on the chair's back.
Then, as a small stone shot from Snape's mouth to ping off the wall, it all began to make sense. Harry shook his head, wondering why Pomfrey had not told him about the bezoar. A tiny voice in the back of his head told him he should have known there would be a bezoar.
Snape's voice cut through Harry's thoughts… and what he was saying was enough to make Harry's heart clench in his chest.
"Wrong! You were wrong, Albus. There is obviously no forgiveness for me; I'm in hell," Snape ranted, pacing to the far side of the room and back. "As if I didn't give enough of my life to this miserable excuse for an institute of learning, I must now spend my afterlife here as well? This is entirely unacceptable! Where are the insipid, fat cherubs with their annoying harps? That would really put the finishing touch on this—" Harry started forward towards him only to stop as Snape caught sight of him and flinched away. "Oh, that is low. The perfect finale. I would be impressed if I weren't the one meant to suffer through this. Stuck in an Escher-esque Hogwarts with the reincarnation of my school-boy nemesis for all of eternity. I'd rather burn in the Muggles' flames than suffer this insult," he hissed, glaring at Harry. "I suppose the rest of your gang of miscreants will be joining us as well?"
Reaching out a hand, Harry frantically searched his mind for something that might soothe Snape; the man was obviously suffering some sort of psychotic break. He thought Harry was James. Harry's worry ratcheted up a notch as he considered that possibly he hadn't returned Snape's memories to him properly. Did wizards suffer amnesia? "Sir, I—"
Snape's head snapped up when he heard Harry's voice. Narrowing his eyes, he stepped forward cautiously. "Take off those ridiculous glasses, Potter. I want to see your eyes."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry whipped off his glasses, advancing toward Snape until he was close enough for the other man to see the colour of his eyes. "See? I'm not my dad; I'm not here to torment you."
"No," Snape breathed, his eyes flaring wide. "I was wrong. This isn't hell at all but the most beautiful heaven of a munificent god. It's odd… the details are just the slightest bit off. One would think a deity capable of granting one's every wish would have everything perfect to the finest specific."
The musing quality of Snape's voice was nearly hypnotic, and Harry felt himself swaying slightly even as he said, "What details?"
"Harry Potter has never in his life spoken to me with even a degree of respect. While it is highly satisfactory, it is… disconcerting. Then there is the scar. He has one right—oh! I see. There is one, it is simply far and away too pale in appearance. Ah well. I shouldn't expect perfection. From a god. Hmm." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Well, any deity that would subject its creations to the absurdity that passes for sexual activity on the human plane—"
Harry choked on air, absolutely shocked to hear Snape talking about sex, of all things.
"Oh, that's genius. Yes. The blushing is simply inspired." Snape's lips twitched into the closest thing to a true grin Harry had ever seen on his face.
Actually, Snape's whole personality appeared to have been affected by his recent trauma. In addition to the ranting about heaven and hell and the hint of a smile on a face that Harry had always assumed would crack under such pressure, this was the most Harry had heard Snape say outside of a classroom lecture. Usually, the man spoke in short, clipped phrases or hissed invective. Even during the few Order meetings Harry had happened to overhear, Snape had given his information as quickly as possible, then sat back and glared at everyone else with his 'you're an absolute idiot' look when they required further explanation.
Harry had always assumed Snape did that on purpose. Now he knew he'd been right all along.
Harry was yanked from his thoughts—literally—when Snape grabbed his arm and hauled him from the office. Thinking that perhaps the castle was on its destructive rampage again, Harry glanced quickly around, his hand going automatically to his wand. When he realised that the castle appeared to have resumed its normal function, he frowned at the back of Snape's head and called out, "What are you doing? Where are we going?"
Snape stopped so suddenly that Harry's forward momentum carried him into Snape's back, causing them both to stumble a bit, though Harry was disgruntled to see that Snape recovered almost instantly. Turning to face him, Snape said, "Yes, that's more like it. And really, what an excellent opportunity you've given me to do one thing I had always dreamed of." Glancing upward, Snape said what sounded like a heart-felt, "Thank you," before narrowing his eyes on Harry and intoning, "Silencio!"
Harry's tongue immediately adhered to the roof of his mouth and his throat felt… frozen somehow. His breathing was not affected at all, but he couldn't have made a sound if he'd tried. Holding his wand up, Harry thought Finite Incantatem at it as hard as he could, but all that happened was a quiet grinding noise from somewhere off to his right. Giving up—he didn't know how many tonnes of stone it would take to kill him, but he was rather certain it was far less than what was resting so threateningly above his head at that very moment—Harry allowed Snape to drag him through the castle.
He heard Snape muttering something to himself every few moments, but hard as he listened, Harry couldn't actually make out what it was he was saying. When they rounded a corner near the base of the stairwell that led to Gryffindor Tower, the acoustics were such that Harry could just distinguish, "Always a time limit on wish fulfilment."
Shaking his head with a very silent sigh, Harry dug in his heels, satisfied when that forced Snape to stop. Using his best attempts at sign language, Harry placed his free hand on his throat—"I can't speak"—then gestured to the walls around him—"Hogwarts has gone crazy"—and finally pointed at Snape—"You can fix both of these things."
Snape nodded distractedly before replying with, "Yes, I have always longed to throttle you here—I knew Moody's imposter was covering for you that night—and I will get to that eventually. But first, I want to place you over my desk and give you the spanking you so richly deserve. Scrubbing cauldrons as punishment, hah! Argus Filch, that horrific little man, actually had the right of it."
While Harry stood there, stunned even more speechless than he already was, Snape started walking again, nearly yanking him off his feet. Stumbling to catch up with his hand before Snape ripped it off his arm, Harry wondered how something as simple as sign language could be so wildly misinterpreted.
The sound of multiple voices moving toward them caused Harry to nearly melt with relief. He had no idea what was wrong with Snape, but he was hopeful that whoever was ahead of them could get Snape to Pomfrey or St Mungo's before whatever was affecting him became permanent.
Snape slowed, his steps becoming more measured, his bearing guarded. Harry blinked in astonishment as simple, minute changes turned Snape from the nearly giddy man who'd been dragging Harry through Hogwarts into the aloof, self-possessed wizard Harry recognised. Snape's eyes darted from one side of the corridor to the other before he began to draw Harry toward a slight recess in the stone wall. When the other group rounded the corner at the end of this section of hallway, Snape placed himself bodily in front of Harry.
"Severus!"
Harry pushed against Snape's back as he recognised McGonagall's voice. The footsteps coming toward them increased in speed and then—
"Seven bloody minutes. The irony may kill me," Snape muttered before moving away from Harry, his arms coming up to cross stiffly over his chest. "Minerva," he said, his voice louder now, carrying to the others as they approached.
Harry stepped out of the alcove slowly, glancing from Snape to the group of people with McGonagall. Pomfrey was there, already pushing to the front and waving her wand over Snape, who brushed her aside in the same way that someone might swat an annoying fly.
"Well done, Potter. His vitals are—"
"I cannot believe you sent Potter to heal me, Madam. Does the Healer's Oath mean nothing to you?"
Pomfrey folded her hands over her midsection, shaking her head. "I have other patients to see to. You obviously don't require my assistance any longer. And Severus, you'd do well to thank Mr Potter for saving your sorry life. He was the only one who could get to you." Pomfrey rushed off after saying that, either not seeing or not caring about the dark glower on Snape's face. Harry hid his smile behind his hand before he turned to take stock of everyone else.
The group was small, just McGonagall, the now-absent Pomfrey—Harry hoped she wouldn't worry too much when she saw the empty infirmary—Hermione, Ron, and… some wizard in plain, business-like brown robes that immediately set Harry's teeth on edge.
Poking the strange man in the chest with one long finger, Snape hissed, "Who are you?" Harry nodded, glad Snape had asked, because the man had 'Ministry lackey' written all over him. Give him red hair and he'd be Percy Weasley.
"Bertrand Mulroney, at your service. I'm with the Department for—"
Harry interrupted, flinging himself in front of Snape and pointing his—highly useless without a voice—wand at the man.
"Harry!" Hermione shouted, just as McGonagall snapped out, "Mr Potter!"
The toady's eyes went wide with fear and his face drained of all colour as he stared at the tip of Harry's wand. "I-I… please, Mr Potter! I have a wife! Children!!"
Harry heard Snape snort disgustedly before he felt his tongue release from the roof of his mouth. Coughing once to see if Snape had cancelled the spell completely, Harry was relieved to hear noise emerge from his throat. "Mr Mulroney, I understand you're just doing your job, but I won't let you take Snape. He's—"
The man threw something at Harry, and when it bounced off his forehead, Harry realised it was a scroll of parchment.
"Oh, honestly, Harry!" Hermione said, huffing with impatience. "As if Hogwarts would allow anyone inside who had intentions of harming Professor Snape. Ouch!"
Harry watched as Hermione rubbed at a reddened place on her cheek, then dropped his gaze to scan the floor, smirking when he saw the piece of mortar there. "He's the Headmaster, Hermione. It takes some getting used to, but the castle doesn't like it when we forget his proper title."
McGonagall turned to him with a frown. "That's preposterous. The castle never responded antagonistically when students or staff referred to Albus as Professor Dumbledore."
Harry shrugged. He didn't know why Hogwarts had suddenly grown surly… Suspicions forming, Harry stepped away from Snape and flicked glances at him. While Dumbledore had been Headmaster, the castle had been warm and welcoming. With Snape as the master of the school, it was surly and antagonistic. Harry shuddered, deciding on the spot that if he was going to sit for his NEWTs, he'd pay someone to tutor him versus returning to a Hogwarts that was under Snape's influence.
Turning back to the small group in front of them, Harry made sure he was still in a position to guard Snape and said, voice firm, "You're not taking the Headmaster. If the Ministry wants him, they'll have to go through me to get him."
"Dear God, Potter, must you be so melodramatic?"
Rolling his eyes, Harry muttered, "You could be grateful. But then, if you were, I'd have to think I had died and gone to heaven—"
"That can be arranged."
"Err, gentlemen," Mulroney said, still eyeing Harry's wand cautiously. "If you have a moment, I would like to—" He gestured to the floor and Harry lowered his eyes quickly to see that Mulroney was attempting to draw his attention to the parchment he'd thrown moments before. "May I—?"
Harry shrugged. "Get it, but it's an order to take Snape into custody, I don't mind making you eat it."
"I blame you for his lack of proper respect, Minerva," Snape said and, frustrated, Harry spun around, poking Snape in the chest with his wand.
"I'm putting myself on the line for you, you great git! So just shut up for a minute, would you?" A block of stone dropped out of the air onto his arm, making him yelp and jump back, shaking the suddenly-numb appendage even as he heard his wand clatter to the floor. "I have no intention of hurting him, you stupid pile of rock!"
"You're wasting effort on this one, anyway," Snape said, smirking at Harry's discomfort. "His head is impenetrable. Not even magically enhanced stone could put a dent in it."
"As… entertaining as this has been, gentlemen, I really must be getting back to London. If you'll just attend me a moment, I'll conclude my business and leave. Headmaster?"
Snape raised his eyes from Harry to glare at Mulroney. "What?"
Bending, Mulroney plucked the parchment from the floor, unrolling it scroll-like before reading from it. "Severus Snape, it is my pleasure to inform you that on this sixth day of June, in the year—"
"Perhaps you could skip ahead to the pertinent bits?" Snape said, though his tone left no doubt that it was not a suggestion.
Mulroney sighed heavily before rolling the scroll back up. "The Interim Minister for Magic has granted you a full pardon for any crimes committed in the commission of your duty as a spy working against the now-deceased Dark Lord Voldemort."
"Interim Minister?" Snape and Harry asked at the same time.
"Kingsley Shacklebolt."
Harry grinned. "Good for him. It's about time we had a Minister worthy of the title."
"Don't worry, he won't last long," Snape said. "Soon enough, the idiots that run society will install another imbecile into high office and the universe will right itself."
"Gee, don't be so optimistic, Snape."
Mulroney started speaking again, apparently deciding to ignore their running commentary in an attempt to soonest discharge his duty. "You have also been summoned to appear before the Ministry—" A warning noise rose from Harry's throat, causing Mulroney to dart a panicked look at him before finishing with a quick, "—to receive his Order of Merlin!"
"Order of Merlin?" Harry asked, disbelief tingeing his words.
"Order of Merlin?" Snape asked, his voice hushed and reverent.
"Order of Merlin?" Ron asked, disgusted, before he ducked apologetically when four deathly glares were levelled on him. "Sorry, sorry, going back to being utterly silent now." He mimed turning a key in a lock over his mouth before crossing his arms and stepping behind Hermione. Sharing a look with Snape, Hermione stepped discreetly to one side, allowing Snape—and by extension, Harry—a direct line of fire to Ron.
Shaking his head at his friend, Harry turned back to Mulroney and said, "A full pardon and an Order of Merlin? Anything else?"
Blinking at him, Mulroney asked hesitantly, "What else would you like him to receive?"
"Hazard pay?"
"Don't push, Potter. I have seventeen years of untouched salary sitting in an account drawing interest. I have no need of any financial recompense from the Ministry. Especially as I'm sure they'd simply find some way to take it back from me in taxes."
"I still think they owe you something more."
"An Order of Merlin will suffice. After all," Snape said, his voice dropping to a threatening register, "I'm certain it is an Order of Merlin First Class. Correct, Mr Mulroney?"
Mulroney pulled a handkerchief from a pocket of his robes and dotted it along his forehead before he said, "Ah, yes. Yes it is. First Class. Which carries with it a prize of ten thousand Galleons."
Ron gasped, momentarily forgetting his promise to remain quiet as he said, "Bloody hell! Will we be getting that, too?"
Hermione smacked him. "Hush, Ron.
"Very well," Snape said, ignoring Ron and Hermione's antics. "It does appear that everything is in order."
"Not quite," McGonagall said, stepping forward and gesturing at the castle around them. "Headmaster, we simply cannot allow the school to be a threat to the students! Another spat like this, and we'll be shut down."
"Yes, good luck with that," Snape said loftily. "I'm certain you'll think of something, Minerva."
"I? But you are the Headmaster. The school is yours to command, not mine."
"No longer. As of this moment, I am retired. Congratulations, Minerva. This… mess… is yours."
Harry couldn't recall a time he had ever seen his Head of House without words, but for the moment she simply stood there, gaping at Snape like a guppy. "But—but you can't—"
"Oh, I assure you, I certainly can." With a flare of robes, Snape turned and stalked away.
Harry watched him leave, feeling vaguely unsettled. It appeared he wasn't the only one.
"That was certainly anti-climactic," Ron muttered as the walls of the castle around them snapped into perfect lines, their formerly welcoming—or threatening, most recently—appearance taking on one of rigid austerity.
"You're just going to let him leave?" Harry asked, turning a frown on McGonagall, who was no help. She was still staring off into space, a stunned look on her face.
The sound of rapidly retreating footsteps drew Harry's attention to Mulroney, who was nearly running in his haste to escape. Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, turning to his last hope. Hermione.
"This is all wrong," Harry said.
Hermione, arms crossed over her chest, glared at Harry and said, "Yes, it is."
"Wait. What did I do?"
"Absolutely nothing."
"Right. So why do I feel like you're accusing me of something?"
"You didn't do anything, Harry."
"I know! So why are you looking at me like that?!"
"Because you're an idiot!"
Harry's shoulders slumped. He hated it when he missed something obvious. "Okay, what am I supposed to be doing that I'm not doing?" Because defeating Voldemort clearly wasn't enough.
"You're just going to let him walk away. You have seven years of unresolved…" Hermione flailed. "He's your last link to your mother, a man who saved your ungrateful arse a dozen times—or more!—and you're just going to let him walk away. Not so much as a 'thanks for the memories'—" She glared at Harry when he started to snicker.
"Uh, sorry. I thought you were being funny—"
A loud sigh interrupted them both. "We all owe that man a debt of gratitude," McGonagall said quietly. Then, "Damn. He's going to be impossible after this."
Harry scratched at the back of his neck, feeling rather like the ungrateful sod Snape had always accused him of being. "You're right. We do."
"Potter, I hereby designate you to be the bearer of thanks to former Headmaster Severus Snape. I am sure you will discharge your duties with utmost care and personal attention."
Harry stared at McGonagall. "You're joking, right?"
A snort, then, "You don't think I want to listen to him lord it over me how wrong I was, do you? Besides. I have so much to do. The school, the students," McGonagall's voice began to lose some of its starch as she backed quickly away.
"Wait!" Harry called after her. "I don't know where he went!"
McGonagall stopped, her gaze on something at floor-height. Harry looked down, only to spot a mouse-hole that he couldn't recall ever seeing. Shaking his head, he reorganized his thoughts and asked, "Where do you think he's going?"
"If I know Severus Snape," McGonagall said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief even as she lovingly patted the wall, "he'll be in his quarters, packing. He always did detest students. That was never an act."
"Where are his quarters?"
McGonagall smiled. "Follow me, Potter."
~*~
"Well, that was interesting."
Snape spun around, glaring from Harry to the closed and warded door. Harry smiled and pointed at the Floo, where the flames were still tinged with green. "The new Headmistress was happy to let me Floo down from her office. She's measuring for drapes."
Snape rolled his eyes and turned his back on Harry, resuming his packing.
"You'll want to be careful with those jars… I've been told that firecrab livers are particularly volatile."
"Is there some reason for you to be here, Potter? Or do you simply continue to delight in annoying me?"
"I wanted to talk to you."
Snape carefully closed the trunk and turned to face Harry once more, one black eyebrow arching high on his forehead. "Are you under the impression that I have any desire to listen to you speak? If so, let me hasten to assure you that I do not."
Harry sighed. He'd known Snape would be difficult about this, but he really did want answers. "When you woke up, in the infirmary, you were…" Harry waved his hands, trying to think of the right words to use.
Snape smirked and folded his arms, leaning against the wall. "Yes? Go on. Prove yourself to be a gullible fool, Potter."
"Gullible?"
"Surely you aren't stupid enough to suggest that you think I believe in the existence of an afterlife?"
Harry blinked. "But there is one. I've been there."
Snape sneered at him, but didn't say anything.
"Um, anyway, you said a few things. And then indicated that you were going to—well, do any number of things. But when McGonagall showed up with Mulroney, you put yourself in front of me. To protect me."
"Potter, your circular speech habits make my head ache. If you have nothing intelligent to say—" Snape stopped abruptly, one hand covering his mouth as he coughed politely. "I don't know what I'm thinking; of course you have nothing intelligent to say."
"You were trying to protect me," Harry insisted, walking slowly toward Snape, staring at him in the hopes of seeing something, anything, that would explain this discrepancy. "You're a walking contradiction. You say you want to throttle me, then you put yourself between me and possible danger. Why?"
"Did you not consider that perhaps I wanted to be the one to kill you?"
Harry laughed outright at that. "If you wanted to kill me, you could have done so a hundred times over. Why did you try to save me from Mulroney today?"
"I could ask the same."
"I wasn't going to let him take you. I've been wrong about you all my life, but I know better now. I wasn't going to let the Ministry make an example of you. You're one of the bravest men I've ever met—"
"Which would explain why you called me coward the last time we met."
"No. The last time we met, I watched you die." Harry swallowed convulsively, remembering the gruesome scene. "I didn't know then, but… You were the best protection my mother left me."
Snape's nostrils flared and he raised his chin, his whole body stiffening as he said, his lips barely moving, "Get out."
"What? Why?"
"Your mother died to save you, you ungrateful whelp! Now, leave before I really do throttle you!"
"If that's what you want, then do it. I owe you that much."
Snape's eyes were flashing dangerously; his cheeks darkened with anger as he stepped toward Harry, his fingers flexing at his sides. "You have no idea how much you owe me."
"Yes I do. I know how much the entire world owes you, and it's much more than some silly Order of Merlin."
"Ungrateful… idiotic… foolish—"
Harry had no idea what came over him in that moment, but the emotions that had been bubbling near the surface since he'd first ducked his head into Dumbledore's Pensieve before taking that long, lonely walk to his death overwhelmed him and he lunged forward, planting his mouth over Snape's in an embarrassingly clumsy kiss. Backing off quickly, he put as much distance between himself and Snape as he could, knowing he'd need the head start when Snape realised what he'd done.
"What… why did you—"
"Uh, it seemed the fastest way to shut you up?"
"Seven years of foolish wand waving and you have yet to learn a simple Silencio?"
Harry laughed, giddy with relief at finding himself still among the living. "I'd hate for you to accuse me of plagiarism."
"Plagiarism is theft of the written word, Potter."
"Unoriginality, then."
"You kissed me."
"I did."
"Why?"
Harry shrugged. "Do I have to have a reason? Maybe I just wanted to kiss you."
"It wasn't even a proper kiss, you idiot."
Harry blinked at that. "Did you want a proper kiss?"
"Well, if you're going to kiss someone, it stands to reason that—"
Harry really didn't remember moving, but somehow he was pressed against Snape again, their mouths mashed against one another.
"You are the most inept kisser I've ever encountered."
"Probably explains why Cho cried when I kissed her."
"Oh dear God, I'm kissing a student."
"Actually, no. First of all, I kissed you. Second, you're no longer a professor. You retired, remember? Third, I'm not a student."
"Fine. When the Ministry comes to arrest me for molesting a child in my care, you can conduct my defence."
Harry grinned. "Only if you promise not to spank me."