Chapter 30: Getting Personal
Death did not come to Harry, and Sirius got to keep his bollocks. This made them each extremely happy for their own respective reasons. They sat together in the infirmary playing cards or wizard chess until Madam Pomfrey agreed to release the Seeker shortly after lunch on the following Sunday.
"I think she only let me out to get rid of you," Harry commented wryly as he strolled from the hospital wing, Sirius still firmly at his side.
"Oi! I resent that," the boy scowled, though inside he was leaping for joy at the return to life and cheek of the boy he quite fancied. "Poppy loves me."
"Like a dog loves fleas," the boy muttered with a poorly hidden smirk.
"Do you want me to put you back in hospital? Because I will if you keep it up."
Harry held up his hands in defeat. "All right, all right. You win. You are perfectly charming in every way. No one can dare compete with your good looks. All the girls swoon at the mere mention of your name. Et cetera, et cetera."
"Cheeky," Sirius glared at him. "And I don't care what the girls do at the mention of my name."
"Oh, that's right, you like the boys as well," Harry nodded. "Well, I'm sure some of them swoon, too. You're just so very worthy of swooning."
"Git," he frowned and grumbled. "Don't care what the boys do."
Harry stopped halfway up the marble staircase, eyebrow raised in a way very reminiscent of Remus Lupin. "Oh? This is new. Since when do you not care what anybody thinks?"
"I didn't say I don't care. I very much care, just not about the opinions of the general population. I only care about what one person thinks," Sirius replied with a huff of annoyance, though he immediately flinched with the realisation of what he had said.
Harry grasped the meaning of his words, too. "One person, eh? You like someone? Who?"
"Don't want to tell you."
"Aw, come on," he plied, bouncing on his toes like Tildy. "Boy or girl?"
Sirius scowled. "Boy."
Wide-eyed but clearly not put-off, Harry grinned. "Which house?"
"Ours. You've been hanging round Tildy too much."
The boy waved the comment away. "Do I know him?"
"Yes."
His excitement died so quickly Sirius thought for one heart-stopping moment that he knew the truth with just those few questions. His wrinkled nose clearly indicated displeasure, as did the way he looked ready to vomit. "It's not James, is it?"
"No! I couldn't fancy James. He's my best mate," Sirius turned an off colour himself despite the relief he felt. "I do have rules, you know."
"But clearly not standards," a cold, deep drawl added from a dark shadow. Snape was leaning against a pillar, arms folded as if he had been waiting for them to pass by. Certainly, there could not have been any other reason for him to be standing there.
"Mind your own damn business, Snivellus," Sirius growled, angry at him for overhearing such personal matters and for just being his irritating and greasy self. His fingers curled around his wand, ready to defend or offend depending on Snape's next move. He jumped when Harry put a hand on his in supplication.
"Leave it," he muttered quietly.
Snape stalked forward, his black eyes fixed on the pair. "I heard you had a blow to the head, Granger. I thought it might have knocked some sense into you," he smirked. "Clearly not if you're still running around with your lapdog sniffing after you. Have you no self-respect, Black?" He paused, the smirk curling up the sides of his mouth even farther. "That's hardly the right name for you, though, is it? You ran away from home, like a dog with his tail between his legs. So you're obviously not a Black anymore."
"Shut it, Snivellus," Sirius spat.
"Not that you were much of a Black before, really," Snape continued, completely undisturbed by the anger rolling off Sirius. "A Gryffindor, running with Mudbloods and half-breeds… now panting after a blood-trai—"
"SHUT UP!" Sirius shouted, drawing his wand.
"Sirius, leave him alone!" Harry cried and shoved the boy's arm aside as the spell shot from tip of his wand.
The silent hex, a burst of blue light, hit the stones just to the left of Snape's head, gouging a chunk from the wall the size of Sirius's fist. Undeterred by the damage he might have suffered and unrestricted by rules of engagement, or morals in general, Snape drew his wand and shot a spell at Sirius. The boy, distracted by Harry's interference, was an easy target. He flew across the corridor, hitting the wall hard and falling to the floor in a heap.
"You bastard," Harry shouted. "I could have stopped him!"
"Did I ask for your help, Granger?" Snape sneered. "Though I should thank you for distracting him."
Clearly not thinking of the consequences, Harry drew back his fist and punched Snape on his abnormally large nose. If he hadn't been weakened by blood loss and a week stuck in an infirmary bed, he might have been able to knock the boy unconscious with a single blow, but as it was he found himself shoved against a wall with Snape's hands around his neck.
"Blood-traitors like you don't deserve the life you've been given," Snape hissed as he tightened his pallid fingers against Harry's throat, forcing the dragon's tooth necklace he wore into his skin; it had to be biting Snape's palm as well, but the boy made no indication that he felt it. "You have everything at your fingertips and you ignore it all."
Harry had no idea what he was talking about, but he gathered it had very little to do with him personally. Snape was clearly a pent-up bundle of anger about more than just Sirius or him.
"Privileged and perfect," Snape spat. "Living in your golden tower with your golden morals. The rest of us have to take what we can get any way we can."
This was starting to get uncomfortable, and not just the pain of Snape's fingers around his neck or the bite of the dragon tooth, which he suspected was cutting into his skin; Harry was not at all keen to get to know the inner workings of Severus Snape. He just wanted to make him go away and forget this whole encounter had ever happened.
'Just go away!' Harry cried in his mind as he tried to pry Snape's fingers off him. 'This never happened!'
Snape's face, inches from Harry's, went slack. His cold, black eyes glazed over as if he had been stupefied and he stepped back, dropping his hands from the boy's throat.
"Snape?" Harry asked, too confused to even feel relieved.
The boy blinked back to reality and glared at Harry. "What do you want, Granger?"
"Uh… nothing," he replied slowly. "Nothing at all."
"Then why bother interrupting me?" he sneered and left him standing alone in the corridor.
Harry watched the boy leave, grateful to whatever magic had interfered with Snape's attempt to kill him. He always knew Snape properly hated him. This younger version was a lot more forthcoming in that respect. He rubbed at his pained throat; his hand came away red with his own blood, and he frowned. "What the hell was all that?" Harry asked no one in particular.
"Were I to hazard a guess," a portrait of a wise-looking man in a smart blue doublet and an embarrassingly large cod piece replied, "Methinks you used a memory charm. Very nicely done."
"Thanks," he said, no less confused than he was before. "How could I have done that without my wand?"
The Elizabethan man stroked his beard and considered it. "Well, some witches and wizards can channel the magic from their wands without having to touch it. It takes considerable power and skill to learn such magic, not to mention time – decades for some – and still it does not work for all. I myself tried and only ever managed to set my hat afire."
"Well, that's impressive," Harry said.
"I had been attempting to turn it red," he sighed. "Ah well. You are clearly more powerful than your opponent realised. Lucky for you and your young lover."
"Young lover?" repeated Harry with a frown. He hadn't been walking with anybody like that, just Sirius. "Sirius!" He turned and sprinted down the hall to find where the boy had landed.
"Ah, young love," the portrait smiled wistfully.
Harry was too preoccupied to hear the comment, not that he would have given it much consideration if he had. Sirius was unconscious. There were no obvious injuries or blood, though Harry feared there might be something broken. He had hit the wall hard, hard enough to at least have cracked some ribs.
"Mobilicorpus," Harry said, pointing his wand at his friend and rushing him back the way they had come and into the care of the exasperated Madam Pomfrey.
"Again?" she sighed. "Come along. I suppose you'll be staying with him until he's released."
"Well, he stayed with me…"
She shook her head and mumbled something Harry couldn't quite make out, but set a chair beside the bed and let Harry sit while she worked. She summoned a house-elf to bring him something to eat and left him alone with Sirius.
"I don't remember her ever being so accommodating," Harry commented. He had spent rather a lot of time in the hospital wing, either as a patient or visitor. More often than not visitors were shooed out for disturbing her patients, for talking too much or breathing too loud. She even kicked Dumbledore out! But she was letting him stay. Why? Before he would consider a reason, James arrived.
"Dammit, Padfoot!" James groaned and slapped the boy's head even though he was unconscious and couldn't retaliate. Harry opened his mouth to protest but got his own smack to the head. "I blame you for this, Granger."
Harry's mouth fell open. What had he done? He wanted to claim innocence and insist that it was all Snape's doing, but he held back. He knew that James and his friends hated Snape, pranked and tortured him every chance they got for no reason other than him being himself. The last thing he wanted to do was give James a real reason to hunt Snape down and hex him.
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "All my fault."
"I knew it," the boy declared triumphantly. "Now piss off. That sister of yours was looking for you, and I'll not have my bollocks hexed off if she finds you're still in the hospital wing."
Harry nodded and left him to sit watch over Sirius.
oOo
The world came into focus far too slowly, like there was a heavy fog in the room. He would have thought that was really the case except for knowing that fog rarely affects the brain, too; he was having a hell of a time remembering where he was. Last he remembered he had been getting ready to hex Snivellus when Harry stopped him.
"Harry!" Sirius shot up in bed.
"What?" the boy beside him jerked awake, his glasses askew on his face.
"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, his brain still clouded by magic or concussion or potion. "I landed you in hospital again."
"Wha—"
"Not the way it was meant to go," Sirius moaned. "I was supposed to be all cool and impressive, not leaving you unconscious because I'm too fucking stupid to pay attention. I was thinking about you when that bludger came. I should have been watching…"
"No, P—"
"I just can't stop thinking about you," he sighed.
The boy moved from the chair to sit beside him, putting his arm around his friend, a smile on his face. "Sirius…"
He had confessed, and Harry had smiled, put his arm around him, his face too close to turn down. The opportunity presented itself and Sirius took it, willingly. He closed that gap and kissed him eagerly, probably too eagerly, but he had already admitted everything; what was a bit of forwardness in kissing after that?
Apparently, quite a lot.
The boy shoved him off and clocked him hard on the nose. "Dammit, Padfoot, that is not right!"
"James?" Sirius stared, horrified. The last of the fog lifted with the pain of a broken nose; he could see clearly and understand what he was seeing. There was not much difference, true, but the hazel eyes were a dead giveaway. Hazel eyes meant James Charlus Potter, not Harry James Granger. He had just kissed his best mate. "Oh, fuck."
"And that was why I sent Harry away," James said, wiping his mouth and tongue off vigorously on his shirtsleeve. "Knew you'd do something stupid when you woke up."
"Fuck, I'm sorry!"
"I should have asked Remus to keep watch…" James muttered and continued to rub his lips raw on his jumper, paying no mind to Sirius's apology. "That would have been hilarious if you tried to snog him, too," the boy grinned. "You play at it often enough. I wonder what he'd do if you ever jumped him like that."
"Sorry!" Sirius hid his face in his hands, unable to take James's jokes anymore. "I thought you were Harry."
"So I gathered," the boy said. "You can thank me later, after I have brushed my teeth."
"Shit," Sirius groaned.
Smirking at his friend's discomfort, James slapped him on the head. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Casanova, I'd rather like to ask Poppy if she has any disinfectant I could gargle with."