Snarry One Shots

A Modest Proposal

Summary: Shortly after the war, Severus Snape proposes to Harry Potter. This is not what Harry expected.

Ships: SeverusSnapexHarryPotter

All credit goes to Anonymous on Ao3

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"The Mediwizard said three days—another week, tops—and you'll be released." Harry leans forwards, elbows resting on his knees. The plastic chair creaks under his weight. One would think St. Mungo's could invest in half-way decent seating for visitors. But, then again, there's nothing comfortable about this place.

"Yes. Healer O'Donnell indicated as much."

"Well, that's good, then."

Harry can't imagine. After the final battle, he'd been kept for a forty-eight hour observation period, and it was nearly enough to drive him mad. Snape's been here almost a month.

Sure, his injuries were far more extensive than Harry's—it's a wonder he survived at all. But Harry thinks he's taken the entire hospital stay rather well. Far better than Harry could have managed, at least. Granted, Snape had been kept in a potions-induced coma for the first week. And his vocal cords had been so damaged by Nagini that it was difficult, at first, for him to speak—and, therefore complain—but still.

"And you're feeling better?" Harry asks.

"I am. I am tired. And it will likely take some time for my magic to return to its full strength. But I have no doubts I'll make a full recovery." Snape looks at Harry for a long moment. His eyes are very brown. "Thanks to you."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't going to let you die, Snape. Not like that." Harry looks away, running a hand through his hair. "Not if I could help it. Not after everything."

***

"How's Snape?"

"Hmm?" Harry looks up from his lunch.

"Snape," Ron says, taking a bite of sandwich. There's a dab of mayonnaise on the corner of his mouth. He swipes at it with his thumb. "I assume you went to see him today." Ron's tone is neutral, devoid of judgment, but Harry feels defensive all the same.

"Oh. He's fine. Should be released in a few days."

Ron nods.

Harry stabs at his salad. The food at the Ministry is decent enough, but they're at the Auror training facility today, and the cafeteria for new recruits leaves a lot to be desired.

Ron is watching Harry in that careful way he has when he's worried Harry's done—or is about to do—something stupid. "It's all right, you know," Ron finally says. "Snape's fine. Somehow you saved his life. You don't have to feel guilty anymore."

"Yeah, no, I know. It's not that. I don't—"

"He was a spy, mate. That was the whole bloody point. We weren't supposed to know he was on our side. And he was still a bastard, even if he wasn't, technically, a Death Eater." Ron looks at Harry as though daring him to say otherwise.

Harry doesn't. He pokes at a limp piece of arugula. He doesn't like feeling so protective of Snape, but he does all the same. "It doesn't matter. It could have been different."

Ron merely shrugs and goes back to his sandwich.

***

"Have you thought about what you'll do now?"

Snape looks up from the book he's reading as Harry pulls the privacy curtain in the doorway closed. "You could return to Hogwarts, of course. Minerva will be glad to have you. In either the Defence or Potions post. But, now, you don't have to."