Chapter Twenty-Seven; Hunters

Ron and Hermione sat on the floor before the hearth. Hermione was bent over her latest text. Her hair fell in front of her face, but it did not hide the furrow in her brow that was always accompanied a particularly interesting read. Ron sat with his head tilted towards the ceiling, mouth slightly ajar and eyes closed.

The couple had been sitting there like that for the past hour. At first Ron had watched the trickle of people leaving the Common Room to go down and look at the memorial. Eventually that had bored him and the darkness of sleep had taken him.

So it was a rude awakening when his Potions Professor leant down next to his ear, Hermione still unaware, and asked in a quiet hiss where Harry Potter was.

Ron woke with a shout, his legs jerking in surprise. Hermione had jumped up and her wand was in her hand.

"How'd you get in here?" Ron asked as his heart rate returned to normal. Ignoring the question, Severus merely remained standing with his arms behind his back. He looked down at the red head in distaste, waiting for his answer.

"Well?" He prompted which was when the boy finally managed to remember himself. He stood up and looked over to Hermione, as if he needed guidance.

"I haven't seen him," Ron mumbled, which resulted in Hermione huffing and turning to her teacher.

"He hasn't been here since he left to see you, Professor."

Severus grunted in dissatisfaction. The boy could be anywhere and Severus was not up for searching the entire castle, but he needed to talk to Harry.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he said softly before he turned and walked out of the Common Room. Ron gaped at Hermione in shock. Had Snape actually thanked her?

His black cloak rippled around him as he prowled the Halls. Students avoided him at all costs and if one was unlucky enough to find themselves in a corridor alone with him, they would flee as fast as possible. He looked fierce as he searched for Harry. The anger of the afternoon had festered inside of him and he was beginning to question if it was a good idea for him to approach Harry. Albus had ordered him, however, no matter that it seemed more like a suggestion. That was not how the Headmaster operated.

He glanced out the window, the mysterious memorial centred in the middle of the glass pane. A lone figure stood amongst the shadows, head bowed.

Harry.

As Severus approached Harry, who was now slumped on the ground, he noticed two things immediately. The quaking in the boy's shoulders and the way the silver in the fig tree was gone. The names merely scribed into the wood.

"Harry," his voice was hoarse and shoulders tensed as the boy in question turned. His eyes were hard, yet red rimmed. He was not welcoming Snape's advance.

This was a bad idea, Albus.

"What?" Harry practically snarled as he stood up. His hands were clenched, his jaw set and his shoulder hunched. He was furious.

"We need to talk," that statement was followed by a harsh and mirthless bark of laughter and a shake of the head.

"Why? What more have you got to say, sir?" His voice was mocking and it hurt Snape more than he was willing to admit.

"A lot," he simply replied, attempting to keep his temper in check. He watched as magic crackled over Harry's robes. That was when he noticed the blood leaking between his clenched fingers. "Harry, you need to calm down."

"Don't come near me," but he did. He walked straight up to the vanquisher of the Dark Lord and grasped his wrist in a firm hold. Harry hissed.

"You need to calm down," Snape snarled as he peeled Harry's fingers back and healed the half moon cuts in his palm, leaking blood.

That was what broke him. Snape watched as Harry choked on a sob and then another. Tears rolled down his cheeks, tinged red by anger, and bit down so hard on his bottom lip that Snape worried he may bite through it. The boy's knees buckled and the Potion Master lowered him to the ground. With his hands on Harry's shoulders he met the boy's green eyes, briefly. They were sad, the boy was crushed. He was exhausted mentally and physically. The War had taken a toll on him, more than Snape had even realised. He wondered if Harry was still plagued by nightmares.

"Look at me," and he did. Harry looked at him and it felt as if he was looking right through Snape, as if the man was transparent. As if he had given up on him.

"You and I, Harry. We are fighters; we have been our entire lives. You and I, we will get through this, we will get through the aftermath of this God forsaken War and we will get through it together. Do you understand?"

"I don't believe you," Harry said, his voice was small and vulnerable, like the child he was only a few years ago. He had aged by years; his eyes looked almost as old as Dumbledore's.

"You should," replied Snape, his voice back to its normal stern matter. "Because though at the start of all of this, from the moment you were born, I disliked you and doubted you, so much has changed since then. Like you said Harry, I need you. You are living proof that no matter how much happens to someone, no matter how much evil surrounds them; they are able to soldier on. I remember something Albus said to me once; he said Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times if, one only remembers to turn on the light. You Harry, are the light and my God you burn fiercely."

Harry looked as if he was in pain, as if he could not draw breath. His sobs wracked his body, his hands shook and his eyes were now clenched closed. Snape placed a hand on his shoulder and was not all that surprised when Harry pressed his head to the older man's chest.

They sat that way for a long time. So long in fact that Snape could no longer feel his feet where Harry knelt upon them. He had not moved, but his breathing was still haggard. Snape dared not move.

Harry lay upon his bed, exhausted. He did not want to think and he did not want to dream, so there he lay upon in his bed in what appeared to be a state of paralysis. His eyes were stinging and his throat felt raw. Actually his entire body ached, he felt weary to the bone. So he sat up and looked over at Ron, who sat with his feet planted on the ground, eyes filled with concern, staring back at Harry.

"Alright?" He asked, he sounded mature the way he does when he tries to impress Hermione. Harry stifled back a laugh.

"Lupin is a bastard," and as soon as the words left his mouth, Harry knew that he was right. He used to love Lupin, admired and looked up to him, but now. Now Lupin was filled with some kind of pity jealousy. Harry would suspect that kind of behaviour from one of the third year girls, not the man who he believed to be one of the best men in the world. So, he had decided that he would no longer have anything to do with Lupin and that was the end of that. Snape had also said he would avoid confrontation with the werewolf; Harry was surprised how readily he had agreed.

"In his defence, Snape can be a bastard too," Ron commented jokingly, his grin bright and warm. "We should probably go get some dinner, mate."

Harry agreed and they soon found themselves in the Great Hall, their plates piled with roast chicken and mashed potato. Ron looked as if he was standing at Heaven's door. Hermione sat across from them, her hair a mass of curls and a The Prophet before her. Her mouth was set in a grim line and her brow was furrowed.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, a knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach. He glanced up to the Head Table. Dumbledore was not there and neither was Severus.

"There has been an attack," Hermione commented quietly and with those few words, half of the Gryffindor table fell silent. Harry closed his eyes, awaiting the news.

"There has been an attack in Hogsmeade on Madam Rosemerta, she has been admitted to St Mungos. It was Lucius Malfoy and he was asking for you, Harry."

And that statement was enough to make the entire table go quiet. They all looked to Harry, their eyes curious and filled with concern and wonder.

"Well, nothing much has changed then," he replied and began to tuck back into his now less appetising meal. He was aware of the absences at the table, was aware what Snape would do if he got a hold of Lucius. The wound of Draco's death was still too raw and open, Snape would not act rationally. The only comfort to Harry was that it seemed that Dumbledore had accompanied him.

And then the doors to the Great Hall swung open, a lone figure standing in the doorway. The Gryffindor table erupted into madness and so did many of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. A girl with blonde hair and a quirkiness no one else would be able to achieve stood from the Ravenclaw table and ran towards the figure. Harry's breath caught in his throat.

Neville Longbottom was thin, unhealthily thin. His face was sunken and his eyes tired and glued to the floor. He only looked up when Luna touched his face; it was a gentle touch as if she was afraid he would shatter.

Beside him Harry heard Ron let out a shaky breath. Hermione looked as if she was about to cry, she was poised half standing. As if she had thought about running to him and decided against it.

The trio watched as their friend, on legs that looked as if they would not support him, moved towards the Gryffindor table. He sat where it was emptier and the only person who sat with him was Luna. Everyone else attempted to get on with their meals, but their eyes were always drawn back.

"He looks half-dead," Ron whispered and Hermione glowered at his tactlessness. As much as Harry hated to admit it, Ron was right. Neville's hair had thinned, his skin was pale and hung off his bones, the bags under his eyes were purple. He looked like Ron had said. He looked half-dead.

"Should we go to him?" Hermione asked gently, her eyes once again straying to the boy at the end of the table. The noise in the Hall had almost risen to the normal volume.

"No," Harry answered, he knew what it was like to be given unwanted attention and he knew Neville would not handle it as well. "We can talk to him in the Common Room if he is up to it."

As it happened, he was not willing to talk to anyone and headed straight for the boy's dormitories. No one spoke to him and when Harry went up to retrieve his homework, Neville's drapes were drawn, but where he normally snored there was only silence.

Harry made his way back down to the Common Room, his brow furrowed. He sat with Ron and Hermione before the hearth, his homework set out before him. But he could not focus, his thoughts kept straying to Severus. Severus, who would try to kill Lucius without a second thought and possibly die in the attempt. Harry swallowed past the anxious ball in his throat and rubbed at his eyes.

He stood and ignoring the questioning looks from his friends, exited the Common Room and headed for Snape's chambers. He never made it. As he walked down one of the many corridors that led there, he was intercepted by Severus himself.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked as the black figure walked towards him. Harry noted that the man's hands were trembling slightly, that his breaths were shallow and fast. There was no response, merely a shake of the head. He stopped in front of Harry, they were toe to toe.

"Severus?"

Still there was no response and those black eyes were drilling mercilessly into Harry's. His hands clenched and unclenched, still trembling. He took a step back and swallowed. He opened his mouth to say something, but then quickly shut it again.

"Did you kill him?" Harry asked, and if he had known the reaction he accidently provoked he would have never asked. Snape crumpled to the floor. He crumpled and Harry watched as he landed on his knees, defeated.

His breathing was harsh and his hair covered his face. Harry knelt beside him and gingerly placed a hand upon the man's back.

"Merlin help me, I didn't. He is still out there. I didn't, Draco forgive me."

Harry stared, feeling extremely out of his depth and at a loss for what to do. So he sat there, he sat with Snape on the cold unforgiving floor of one of Hogwarts copious corridors with his hand of Snape's back and his heart in his throat.

It was as if Snape had forgotten Harry was there and began to repeat Draco's name; an unrelenting mantra that twisted Harry's gut and caused panic to flow like blood through his veins.

"Severus, look at me."

Those black eyes, that had once been cold and harsh, were filled with such misery and distress that it stole Harry's breath. He had never imagined Snape as vulnerable, even when they had sat together beneath the memorial; he had been powerful and strong even then. But now he looked destroyed, destroyed and defeated.

"We'll get him and we'll kill him," Harry promised and he was certain of it. One of them would end Lucius Malfoy, for Draco.

Harry snatched his hand away as Severus began to laugh. It was a slow chuckle and not completely mirthless. Harry sat back on his heels, confused.

"If you think, for one second, I will let you near Lucius Malfoy, Harry, you are clearly mistaken," Snape whispered before he placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and stood up. His hands still trembled. They walked together back to Snape's chambers and soon found themselves sitting before the hearth. It crackled in the silence.

Harry reflected on how odd this was. Here he was with Severus Snape of all people, sitting with the man who was slowly sipping Firewhiskey and trying to still the tremor in his right hand. It was very odd, especially for a Gryffindor.

"Neville came back tonight," Harry commented idly, feeling awkward about not feeling awkward. Odd, very odd.

"It is incredible he survived," Snape replied his eyes glued to the flames. He placed the empty glass on the ground by his feet and looked to Harry. "Thank you, Harry. You can return to your dorm if you wish."

Harry smiled at him and stood. He would be able to make sure Severus was alright tomorrow. He said goodnight and made his way back to his bed.

His head hit the pillow and he dreamed the entire night. He dreamed that Lucius Malfoy held a knife to Snape's throat and as he cut Snape turned to Dumbledore, then Ron and then Hermione. He dreamed that Lupin came to him during his Transfiguration lesson dressed in a tutu and begging for forgiveness, it was embarrassing. He dreamed that Rose turned into a snake, a great python that was unable to understand him and slithered off into the Forbidden Forest. He dreamed that he got stuck in his form and soon his wolf instincts filled him and when he finally came to, he held Neville's throat between his jaws. He woke sweating and panting, not to mention confused. Ron had pulled back his drapes and was peering through the gap, his wand lit.

"Alright?" He had been saying that a lot lately. Harry still appreciated it every time. He offered his redheaded friend a smile.

"Alright."

He listened as Ron moved back to his bed, the rustle of sheets and then silence, punctuated by the occasional snore. Harry closed his eyes and now a peaceful sleep came to him, a sleep where he was not assaulted by bizarre dreams.

However when Harry woke in the morning he was just as tired. He groggily made his way down the Hall and filled his bowl full of porridge, stewed apple and honey. He then poured himself some tea. It was wonderful.

He glanced up to the Head table like he frequently did and made eye contact with the Headmaster. Severus was nowhere to be seen and Harry wondered if he was hungover. The thought vanished as his eyes met Remus Lupin's. It was a blank stare and Harry could not say if Remus realised they were actually looking at each other. Either way it did not matter, Harry looked away and returned to his porridge, content.

Up at the Head table Remus Lupin narrowed his eyes and Severus Snape finally made it to his seat, his head aching terribly.