Healing

Chapter 1

Hope you enjoy this, my writing is starting to get better Whoop Whoop!!!

Blood covered his shaking fingers. The air around him had a distinct chill to it. A raspy cough came from his throat as he held the unmoving body in his arms. His arms ached from the constant pressure he put on the body's throat.

"Harry, we gotta go." Ron's frantic voice shot through the silence, drawing a shiver from the shorter boy on the floor.

He did not move, he couldn't, his hand was stopping the blood from spilling. He needed to make sure he was going to be fine. He could not let him die, not like the others. He wished more than anything to hear the male sneer. About how he was just like his father. How he was selfish and cared for no one but himself. How he was a spoiled brat. Yet no words left the frozen lips. He was so quiet.

"No, I have to- there's so much blood- he will-" His voice was weak and shaking. He knew. Of course he knew. Stopping the blood from flowing everywhere would not stop the venom. His stomach sank as he shook his head. The blood covered hand raised and wiped across his cheek, mixing the blood with the tears running down his cheek. Another cough wracked through his chest as he gasped for breath.

A pair of arms wrapped around his body before gently pulling his arms from the body. Harry found himself rapidly standing and settling into the embrace. He allowed the sobs to reign loudly into the room as fingers ran through his hair.

"He's gone Harry," Hermione's all-knowing voice cut through his chest as he gripped tighter onto her shirt. "We will alert someone to his body and we will make sure he is given the burial he deserves, but for now we need to go. We need to stop them from hurting others." There was a sudden tightness in her voice that made Harry raise his throbbing head from her shoulder.

"Potter," Harry's eyes slowly ran around the room, trying to place the soft voice. Ron, Hermione, Snape, no. No one matched that voice. Where? "Potter, wake up."

His eyes shot open as he pushed himself up in his chair. The bright lights of the Hospital wing invaded his view immediately. At the scrunch of his eyes he felt his glasses being tapped against his hand. Hastily putting them on, he looked to his left where a deathly white man lay on the equally white bed. White looked odd matched with him, he noted for what felt like the hundredth time.

"How is he?" The question was rushed as his eyes ran over him, looking for anything that had changed. Did his complexion look darker then the paper that was on the bedside table? Has his position changed at all? Were there any stains that had dyed the clothing?

"Good Afternoon to you too," Pomfrey's tired voice rang out. Harry turned to her finally. Heavy bags sat under her eyes and her hair was hastily tied up. "But no, no changes. You need to eat." Harry did not answer and instead looked back at the male in defiance.

He heard another chair being dragged next to him. A soft hand settled on his, despite the flinch that tried to warn it off. Silence rang between the two as the fingers moved to run against his palm. His eyes stuck to the wall opposite him as he pushed down the rising pain in his chest. Squeezing the hand back, he stood. A small wave of dizziness raised but dissipated after a few seconds.

"I'll be back in thirty minutes." Harry nodded to the medi-witch, not daring to look at her face. Seeing the tiredness crushed him. Everyone seemed so tired, yet he found himself completely useless to the situation. Once one of the most sort after student to someone that is getting in the way, he mused in silence.

"I expected no less." There was a hint of teasing, Harry noted. "See if you can bring me something back as well, if you are not here to watch Severus then I must keep both eyes stuck to him." Again, a teasing note, yet her voice was more tense this time.

Swiftly, he turned and found himself yet again thankful for the corner bed that Poppy had dedicated to Severus as he made his way out of the hospital wing. He had been trying his best to avoiding the bloody and battered bodies of the patients that now surrounded him. The first thing he had done was place a silencing ward around the Severus's bed, to escape the constant groans and screams of both the student and adults around him.

Hogwarts students, who were not injured, had been sent home while towers were being rebuilt leaving the echoes of scream and no truthful smiles from the teachers who had once easily smiled everyday. The usual vibrant of the corridors was nowhere to be found leaving only shadows to sulk around. His soft footsteps thundered through the silence bouncing off every surface. The throbbing in his head seemed to get worse as he made his way to the Potions classes that were being used as a canteen.

He stopped dead in front of the door, expecting the potions teacher to slam it open and mock his tardiness. Instead he was met but the soft sound of clambering dishes within it. Shakily, he twisted the handle and pushed the heavy door open. Peering over the tables, he was happy to only see a few of Saint Mungo's staff that had been sent over to help with the patients.

Heading over to the table he grabbed three dishes and stacking them with a mixture of foods. It seemed the other occupants had taken notice of him, if the hushed whispers were anything to go by. His plan to sit there and eat went out of the window as the door opened to reveal Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore stepped in. Instead, he grabbed the dishes of food, balancing two on one hand with practised ease.

"Harry, my boy," Harry did not respond. He walked past them straight to the door, which McGonagall was holding open for him with a knowing look plastered on her face, and walked out.

He would not let him call him that, no. The man could no longer call him that. Not after disappearing when he needed him most. Not after convincing him that he had died. Not after everything he had put him through. His legs dragged him back to infirmary, where Dumbledore had been shunned from within the first two days.

His eyes had become blurry again, but with his hands full he could not stop them. A sense of relief flooded through him as he made it past the threshold of their wards. Keeping his eyes trained to the ground, he sat in his seat. His eyes only raised when he heard Poppy approach him. Hesitantly, he raised his head before holding the plate out to her. With a tension filled smile she accepted it, only looking at the third one briefly.

Setting his plate on his lap he reached over and placed the last one on the night stand beside Snape's bed. He stared at the male's worn face before looking down to his plate. Something nudged his hand, looking at it he noticed it was a fork.

"You always forget to get forks, I'll have to start sending you with a Rememberall" Poppy had yet again dragged her chair next to his and began to eat the feast piled up in front of her.

Silence wallowed between them but neither made an attempt to break it. It had become a habit between the two after the first three meals. Harry enjoyed Poppy's company rather than the others that had come to speak with him. Poppy knew when to stop pushing. The past three weeks had been nothing but questions and pain. Maybe that's why they both enjoy the silence of the little corner, Harry thought as he shoved another spoon of dull tasting mash into his mouth. As he was scooping the last of the broccoli into his mouth, Poppy placed her hand on his again. He twisted his eyes to meet hers. She was standing now and her plate was nowhere in sight.

"I'll transfigure your chair into another bed tonight, your neck must feel horrible." Rubbing her finger across his, she smiled before moving her chair back to the side. Hurriedly retying her hair before opening the separation curtains allowing a couple of groans to seep past the wards.

"Thank you, Poppy." She turned back and nodded to him.

Once the silence returned, Harry let out a long sigh as he leaned his head onto the edge of the sickly white bed. His heart constricted within his chest, the pain managing to become unbearable within mere seconds. Pulling his stained shirt down slightly revealed a large bruise covering the expanse of his chest. It was black a few days ago but there were now sparks of green appearing around it. Shaky hands raised and pushed against the bruise, revealing the agony only slightly. Gasps of breath ran in and out of him as the headache grew tenfold. Tears ran down his face freely as he leaned his head against the white sheets of the beds in front of him.

"Please wake up," He gasped brokenly as his hands gripped tightly onto sheets. "I need your help" His voice broke again as he sucked in another short breath.