Everyone had either gone home or gone to bed, but Harry didn't feel like sleeping. He didn't feel particularly sociable either. He roamed the gardens for a bit, until it started to rain. Then he started roaming the house, taking in all of its creaks and groans and odd noises. He hadn't noticed them the other times he'd stayed here, but those were happier times and his attention had been focused elsewhere. Finally, he found himself on the second floor.
He walked slowly along staring at the soft green lights mounted high on the walls that were just bright enough to see by. They had an oddly relaxing effect on him, and he stifled a yawn. He stopped to remove his glasses and rub his suddenly tired eyes when he noticed a bright sliver of light emanating from Lindsay and Snape's bedroom. The door was ajar. He moved quietly toward it with the intention of closing it, but he stopped when he heard Lindsay's voice. She was singing softly to Snape, something she did quite often. It sounded a bit like a lullaby.
Harry stifled a laugh and pushed the door open a crack expecting to see Snape's face looking sour and contemptuous, but he didn't look that way at all. He was clearly exhausted, which was only normal considering his injuries, but he also looked relaxed in way that Harry had never seen before. There was something else there too. Was it vulnerability? He sat on the large upholstered chest at the foot of their bed. He was barefoot. The black nightshirt contrasted sharply with the marble-white skin of his sunken chest. Snape stretched out his right leg, and he rubbed his hand briskly along his right thigh. It was clear that he was feeling some pain. Lindsay moved to the other side of the room and out of Harry's sight. Snape's eyes followed her. Harry could see the same intensity in Snape's features that he'd witnessed many times before when Snape watched Lindsay, only now the look was pure; it was no longer mingled with trepidation.
Lindsay moved back into Harry's view. She was now wearing a white silk dressing gown. She had a dark-blue bottle in her hand. Snape patted the spot next to him and leaned into Lindsay as she sat, shutting his weary black eyes as he rested his head on her shoulder. He gently pulled some of her hair down and was twirling it around his fingers. She caressed his back with her free hand.
"Potter came to my study."
"I knew there was more bothering you than just your leg," said Lindsay softly. "It didn't turn ugly, did it?"
"I didn't give it the chance to."
"Harry can be very understanding, Severus. If you would just give him a chance—"
"Potter represents everything I want to forget," answered Snape sharply. "That face! That arrogant smug face!"
"Are we talking about Harry or James?"
"What's the difference?" snapped Snape as he sat up. Lindsay let out a long-suffering sigh. Harry envied her patience. "You know what he would've done if I hadn't pushed him? He'd have coasted through his classes, doing just enough to pass, and he wouldn't have learned a thing. I had to look at that face every day—every single day—staring at me, flaunting his eyes at me like a trophy."
"Severus, you're rambling and you're making yourself angry. When you get angry you spend the night prowling the house, leaving me to sleep alone, and you know how much I hate to sleep alone."
"He is everything that I wanted and lost. He is what can never be. I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk about her."
"No, it's okay. Love can't be turned on and off like a tap, I understand that. But I won't take a back a seat to her, Severus."
"I don't expect that. Don't you see? That's why I don't want Potter here. As long as he's around there's a chance that I could lose again."
"Severus, you have to stop blaming Harry. He isn't like a cursed penny that keeps popping up and wreaking havoc. That's more Fred and George's territory. You're the only one that could push me away, and you haven't done a very good job of it so far."
Snape looked chastised and defeated. He tilted his head toward the bed. "I don't think I can..." Harry put his hand over his mouth as he felt his stomach lurch and heat rise into his face. The very idea of Snape saying or doing anything remotely sexual embarrassed and sickened him, but he also felt tremendous pity at the thought of the poor guy being impotent.
"I told you, I don't care about that. Give yourself some time. You're still healing." Snape dropped his head, and his face became obscured by a curtain of black hair. He took the blue bottle from her hand and began to play with its stopper, repeatedly popping it off and reclosing it. "Why do you want me?" He spoke so softly that Harry had to strain his ears to hear him. He sounded very much like a child asking a parent if he was handsome, knowing full well that he wasn't, and fearing that parent will tell him the truth, but at the same time dreading the potential lie designed to spare his feelings.
"How many times do I have to answer that, Severus?" said Lindsay patiently. "You know why; you can see it, and I've never tried to hide it from you. I can't explain it. It's just something fundamental to me. I don't question it, but I am grateful for it...and for you." She was quiet for a moment, apparently waiting for him to say something. When it was obvious that he wasn't going to reply, she spoke again, "Do you want me to rub that liniment on your leg, or are you just going to play with the stopper all night?"
"Harry!" whispered Hermione. "What are you doing?" Harry quietly closed the bedroom door, silently took Hermione by the arm, and walked farther down the hallway with her. "They weren't doing anything, Hermione. You don't actually think that I'd watch them... do things?"
"I should hope not. Thinking about them doing things is revolting enough."
"Their door was ajar, and I went to close it when I heard Lindsay singing. I just listened for a moment."
"She does have a lovely voice, doesn't she?" said Hermione.
"Yes, she does. So what are you doing up? I thought everyone was in bed."
"I was in bed. Ron's snoring woke me up. I'm two rooms away from him, and I can still hear him. I thought I'd get a snack or something before I try again."
"Mind if I join you?" asked Harry. They made their way, arm in arm, downstairs to the kitchen. It was almost as if Ron could smell the food the second Hermione opened the refrigerator door. He materialized in the kitchen doorway rubbing his belly and yawning.
"Did you hear that guy snoring?"
"Yes, we did," replied Hermione with a roll of her eyes. Harry made tea while Hermione cut three slices of cherry pie. Ron needed more than a slice of pie to fill his stomach and rummaged through the fridge piling food onto a plate. They each sat at the kitchen table to tuck in.
"What's the matter, Harry?" said Hermione. "You've been looking grim for days."
"I don't know," said Harry. "It's everything I guess. When I was watching Snape and Lindsay—"
"That's disgusting!" said Ron, nearly choking on his mouthful of food.
"It hasn't stopped you from eating though, has it?" said Hermione. Ron made a face at her.
"They weren't doing anything, Ron," said Harry. "It's just hard to look at him."
"I know," said Hermione. "He's very ill, and Lin said the seizures might have caused permanent damage to his legs."
"What seizures?" said Ron. "How do you know that?"
"I was talking to Lin obviously. He had seizures while in hospital. He had a huge amount of snake venom in his body and the blood loss was tremendous."
"When I was watching him earlier," said Harry. "I thought how easily it could've been me."
"What do you mean?" said Hermione.
"Snape's life was a lot like mine. I could've made the same choices he did. I could've been him."
"You are nothing like Professor Snape, Harry," said Hermione, appalled.
"That's not true really," replied Harry. "I had so many people looking after me, steering me in the right direction; Dumbledore, Hagrid, Sirius, Remus, and Ron's parents. It was virtually impossible for me to end up on the wrong side."
"Rubbish!" said Ron. "You didn't know any of them when I met you, except for Hagrid, and you'd only known him for a few hours. Before our Sorting Ceremony, when you refused to take Malfoy's hand, you chose your side then and there. Nobody led you to anything."
"Well said, Ron," said Hermione. She reached across the table to hold Harry's hand. "Things are going to get better, Harry. We all just need some time." Harry nodded, forced a smile, and finished his pie before retiring.