Snape arrived to a hustling a bustling St. Mungo's. He hastily let his wand out for a checking and glared at everyone that dared block his way.
When he reached the Reception, he was welcomed by a bony woman, her eyes were so small, almost Asian looking, and had spectacles over them.
"What can I do for you this fine wee hour, Sir?" She asked. Snape found her talking too childish. He instantly felt irritated.
"Severus Snape for Harry Potter," he said, his voice rough and obviously in a hurry.
"Oh. Harry Potter. Yes." She started to rummage through a series of files using her wand.
After an approximate of thirteen seconds, the woman looked up and smiled. Snape wanted to hex her. Can't she see that he was hurrying? What if Harry was to succumb to some sort of attack on his body? Or that the boy's Magic was to be drained in an instant?
"One moment," was all she said. By that time, Snape was willing to strangle her using his own hands.
Has she really no idea?
Again, she started rummaging through a bunch of files. After fifteen seconds, she was still at it.
Severus Snape was losing his patience, and was losing it fast. The bloody woman kept on smiling up at him every after a few moments.
After a few more of her looking up, Snape lost it. Harry needs him! Harry needs an adult, for that matter.
"Goddamn it, woman!" Snape cursed, "I need to see Harry Potter, now!"
When the woman only looked at him, wide eyed, Snape slammed her desk and decided that it was better to find Harry's room on his own. He turned on his heel in a snap and did a Point Me spell.
---
He did managed to find Harry's room. Healer Rubbards was there, waving a wand over Harry.
The boy was still asleep on the bed, but now in a hospital gown obviously provided by the healers. Rubbards must have sensed him, for he turned his head and pursed his lips when he caught sight of him in the doorway.
"Professor," Rubbards acknowledged. Snape nodded at the man.
"Iverson!" Rubbards called to a much younger man in Healer uniform. "Take over. I shall discuss matters with the Professor."
Rubbards then turned towards the professor and beckoned him to follow. The healer lead the both of them to his office where he would discuss about Harry Potter. Snape followed the said healer. He was worried. His heart was aching. He can't help it but to be worried. Where did all this come from? Yes. He finally accepted it that he did care for the boy.
Rubbards entered his office. He sat on the couch and pointed the chair opposite him, "Have a sit Professor Snape."
Snape sat down gracefully and crossed his leg. There was a few awkward moment of silence before Healer Rubbards spoke, "Moments before you came, Professor, Madame Pomfrey had managed a short Floo call. She and I discussed the possibility of Harry Potter being under a Magic Core Depletion case, one that was arrived at when he succumbed to his Cancer. We had managed to check him, Professor. But we need to do so again, although as a Healer I suggest potions more than healing spells and muggle treatments. It seems to have worked with him much more efficiently in the past, as his chart from the Infirmary suggests."
Snape nodded. The man surely knows what his work is. "Then what is your diagnosis, Healer?"
Rubbards pursed his lips as he put his arm on the table, "As Madame Pomfrey had said, Magical Core Depletion due to drastic changes in his body cells. His cancer diagnosis remains. We have managed to stabilize him with stabilizing potions. As of now, his Magic Core is trying trying to heal on its own, with the help of sleep. We have managed to dose him with a low lavender content Dreamless Sleep to help him and relax his nerves."
"What of his cancer? What potions do you suggest can help?" Snape asked.
"Ah," there was an intelligent gaze in the Healer's eyes, "You are a Potions Master, oh yes. I see. As I have said earlier, a low level lavender content on his Dreamless Sleep. Every other night, three drops shall suffice. I shall write down as to his range in the lavender extract."
"A range? I thought--"
"There are days when his body shall feel the toll of the illness the most. As such, you can administer him with a higher content to help him. As for his frequent loss of breath, a Breath Reliever also works. There is another option of the Essence of Ease. As suggested by his vital signs, it also works both ways."
Snape gave him a gaze of understanding.
"There is also another thing, Professor. Harry Potter, as of now, cannot use his Magic, let alone hold his wand. It would prove to be too much for his current frail body state to do any Magic, of any state or form.
"I will write down his other medications and I will put them down on his chart. You can review them as they shall be open to you at any time you need it. Now, come. I need you to fill out his information details."
----0----0----0-----
Severus stared at the boy, with intensity. He had quite spent an hour in filling out Harry's information details, and was surprised to have had answered them with little to no difficulty.
How come he never noticed that he already knew too much about Lily's child?
Snape kept watch as the boy was constantly being checked by Healers. He always asked them what was the status of the child, and was at least at ease when they assured him time and time again that Harry was under a healing sleep. Most of the potions had been spelled to the boy's stomach.
"Professor? Do you not have a class on the morrow?" A young woman, whse brown eyes were filled with drowsiness, asked.
Snape looked up from the journal he was reading. It was a prior student of his. "Yes, Miss Strymon. I do have. But none of the other professors are out of obligations as of the moment."
She only nodded and went out of the room.
Snape went back to his reading.
---0----0----
Harry felt like he was floating in midair, but not a broom. He was floating himself. There was this constant hum of some sort of wind, but it was soft. He cannot see a thing. Only blackness and darkness. But then again, he realised that he was not opening his eyes.
Harry felt at peace. He wanted to stay there. Forever. Where no Voldemorts are out to seek revenge over some thing he was not even aware how he did. Where no Death Eaters are handling cursed books and his friends are safe. No Snape to sneer at him, no Malfoys to get under his skin.
Just... Him.
And here, there are no Boy-Who-Lived, no labels on his scar, no labels on him. He can be whoever he wanted to be. He can be just Harry here.
Harry wants to stay so bad.
But suddenly, there was a faint rustle of sheets. Then footsteps. They were coming closer and closer.
Then a voice. It was distant, but not so much. It was still clear and crisp.
"Everyone is worried sick about you, Potter. Would you believe that I am one of them?"
The speaker gave off a rather awkward chuckle. Harry was familiar with the voice. He just couldn't place who exactly, yet. His mind was still muddled at some point.
The speaker continued talking, rather absentmindedly. Harry just listened to the lull of the voice.
"Rubbards says you suffer from a condition known Magical Core Depletion. You know that, don't you? You cannot do Magic, of any form. Uncharacteristic of me, as you well know, I am sorry. I'm sorry for you..."
The voice trailed off again. Harry found himself on the brink of losing himself on the flow of the seamless midair again.
But a hand was clasping his. Warm, long, comfortable. Harry wanted so much to hold on. But it withdrew just as soon as it came. Harry imagined the bearer to have been looking almost burned. Harry tried his hardest to extend his hand to take it back. He wanted it.
It spoke volumes of the things Harry wanted all his life.
Comfort and care.
"Harry-- Potter. I shall be going now. Do try to recuperate as much as you can. Wake up soon, Mister Potter."
----0---0-----
The next time Harry had heard the voice, he must have been sleeping for quite a while.
Well, maybe like a day.
"Potter, your friends are asking me the most incredulous of questions. Especially that muggleborn, Granger. Do try to save me from such atrocities! Wake up now. A day of sleep is too much."
This time, Harry actually knew who it was.
Snape. Severus Snape.
Too many questions played in Harry's consciousness. What is the Professor doing here? And why... Why can't he wake up? Why does he feel so weak? Where is he, anyway?
Why...
Sleep claimed him again.
------()------()-----()----()-------
Snape felt ridiculous talking to Potter but it felt good. Relaxing. He knows Potter is listening. It is definitely unlike him to talk to Potter without sneering.
He just hope Potter would wake up. He felt weak. He failed Lily again. If only he got to know Potter before judging him. If only he listened to Dumbledore. It didn't escape his notice how Harry was jumping up and down when he got his Potions assignment mark. It was like a kid gotten a free candy from hogsmeade.
He sat there every day hoping Potter would wake up from his slumber.
He held Potter's hand hoping to find comfort.
Oh Harry. I'll do anything for you..
With that, Snape sat there reading his Potions Journal.
----0----0---
He was back again. But this time, the man did not take his hand away. A part of Harry knew that what he was feeling towards the gesture was rather unusual. But Snape was showing Harry an ounce of care, and gentleness and empathy. It was something Harry wanted for so long, but was denied of.
Harry wanted to wake up. Snape had told him just as much that he wanted Harry to wake up as soon as possible.
But his eyelids are still closed, no matter how hard he tries.
Harry wanted, for the first time in his life, to do something for himself. He wanted to wake up, and perhaps hope to find some person would be there. It does not bother Harry if that person is Snape. He had waited for such a moment, where he would wake up, after an illness, to a person who would be there for him.
Harry wanted to see Snape, and end the man's sleepless nights. He knew that Snape would be exhausted after being there with him for three nights in a row.
But everytime he tries, Harry fails. It frustrates him to no end.
----0----0---
Three long nights. Snape now sported a rather vampire-like look upon his face. Sunken eyes, pale flesh and downtrodden tones.
But he knew that Harry needed him. Being a man, he had learned the hard way, is knowing and being where he is needed the most, needless of the sacrifice. And Harry is where he is needed the most.
The boy still hasn't woken up. But the Healers assured Snape time and time again that the boy was stable, in good condition and is slowly getting to waking up.
Any time now, Rubbards said.
But Snape was growing frustrated, and more worried. He had brewed many potions for Harry, yet the boy was still unmoving, almost like in a coma.
Albus, surprisingly, had supported him upon his cause of being in Harry's company.
His students must have noticed him getting more crankier. The only time he does not feel at edge is the time he spent on Harry's bedside. During those times, he would hold the boy's hand, and tell him about his day. He always urged Harry to wake. Sometimes, he would read to the boy.
But in the end, Harry Potter still would not wake, and every time, Snape wished he could do something about it.
But all he could do is wait. And waiting is quite a tiresome task to do, especially if your hope is being crushed slowly, inch by one bloody inch.
All he could do now is hope. Hope that Harry Potter will wake. Hope is the last thing he could do.