Rehabilitate

It took about half an hour, in which Harry tried to rein in his anxiety, until a slight change in breathing alerted him to Snape’s emergence from his dissociated state. Harry looked at him and saw fear, recognition, relief, confusion, and embarrassment pass in quick succession across Snape’s features, before he settled into his customary neutral position.

“Hey,” Harry said quietly. “You’re back.”

Snape raised an eyebrow in question.

“You dissociated, probably because of that twat of a healer.” Snape looked slightly taken aback by his ferocity. “Anyways, she’s gone now, and won’t come back. I’ll have to talk to Madam Pomfrey about your continued care. Maybe St. Mungo’s can send over a healer who isn’t a bigot.” Something like understanding flickered through Snape’s eyes. “I have put my elf on bodyguard duty, so you won’t need to worry about something like that happening again.” Harry tried to keep his voice matter of fact, so as not to embarrass Snape with his care or concern. Judging by the frown on Snape’s face, he succeeded only partially.

“Anyways,” Harry continued quickly, “is there anything you need right now?”

Snape considered for a moment and then blinked once, seeming even more uncomfortable and embarrassed than before.

“Are you in pain?”

Snape blinked a hesitant yes.

“Do you want a pain reliever?”

Snape blinked no.

“You need something else.”

Snape blinked yes. It was clear he was becoming impatient at the questioning.

Harry bit his lip. “Would it help if I cast a general diagnostic?”

Snape blinked once.

Harry flicked his wand and hurriedly read through the scroll that appeared in the air. “Oh,” he said in sudden understanding and blushed. He held up his wand. “Do you mind…?”

Snape blinked his assent almost angrily. Gently and efficiently, Harry performed the bowel and bladder emptying charms.

“Right,” he said brusquely. “Pain potion, now?”

Snape blinked yes, and Harry spelled the purple potion into his stomach. “Anything else?”

Again, Snape appeared hesitant. Harry read through the diagnostic scroll once more, hoping to find something he had missed, but could make out nothing that could be helped in the moment. He looked back up at Snape and immediately tore his gaze away again, as he felt the probing of legilimency against his flimsy mental barriers.

“Oh,” Harry said in surprise, realizing what had happened. “Of course, this is great, we can communicate through mind magic.” He met Snape’s eyes with a wide smile. “Come on in”, he prompted. The gentle probing returned, and Harry tried to keep his mind as relaxed and open as possible.

Potter. Snape’s voice echoed around Harry’s head.

Hi. Harry said in greeting, feeling slightly awkward.

This complete baring of your mind is foolish and unnecessary, Potter. Have you no instincts of self-preservation?

What would be the point in trying to keep you out, sir? You know I’m shit at occlumency.

A trickle of regret and shame emanated from the presence in Harry’s mind, before he could feel something like a privacy screen being erected between his active thoughts and his memories and unconscious background processes. It was a pleasant sensation, like being swaddled in a warm towel after coming out of the shower.

I have no wish to intrude, Snape explained gingerly, and Harry had the impression that he was not just referring to their current situation.

Neither do I, Harry thought, letting his memories of invading Snape’s mind during Occlumency lessons, sneaking a look into the pensive when he had been alone in Snape’s office, watching Snape’s memories in the pensive during the last day of war, seeing him briefly naked only an hour ago and looking at his medical chart, float to the forefront of his mind.

You truly are incurably curious, Potter, Snape thought. His annoyance and embarrassment were tinged with amusement.

It’s a gift, Harry quipped, relieved by the lack of anger. In fact, he got the distinct feeling of Snape rolling his eyes at him. This playful and almost gentle behaviour from Snape, while a welcome change, threw Harry off balance.

What did you want to tell me? Harry asked, in an effort to regain his footing. Instead of answering with words, Snape let several sensations float through Harry’s mind. Some sensations were of sore spots that had formed along his body from lying in one position too long, some sensations of curiosity and apprehension about the happenings outside of the confines of his room, as well as boredom alongside a general anxiety over his future. By the somewhat hasty retreat, Harry could tell that Snape had not meant to let him know of the last one quite so clearly.

Of course, Harry thought, trying to project an air of confidence and reassurance through their mental link. Let’s start with the easiest one. I’m assuming you can’t lie on your stomach.

No, Snape replied tersely.

Can you sit up?

Yes.

No, at least not most. But Kreacher could help?

Snape considered for a moment. Very well. But that cantankerous elf better not drop me.

You two have so much in common, I bet you’d get along great, if you got to know each other a little better, Harry teased. All he got in turn was a wave of disgruntlement, although he thought he could perceive an edge of apprehension. Don’t worry, sir. It will be fine.

Harry broke the fragile mental connection by looking away. “Kreacher?”, he asked the air. The elf popped into view from where he was hidden besides the entrance. “Could you help me by carefully lifting the headmaster into the air? You especially need to stabilize his head and spine. And do not, under any circumstances, drop him.”

Kreacher tugged at his ear in consideration. “Master Harry wants Kreacher to make potions halfblood fly?”

“Not fly, float. In a very calm, safe and controlled manner, please, Kreacher.” Harry tried to gauge whether Kreacher was up to any mischief. “Remember, I do not wish him harmed in any way.”

Kreacher twitched his nose. “Just as you say, Master Harry,” which Harry knew was code for you are an idiot, but I’ll go along with it to save myself the trouble .

“Thank you.” Harry turned back to Snape and lifted an eyebrow, receiving a blink in return.

“Go ahead, Kreacher.”

The elf snapped his fingers and Snape slowly and steadily floated into the air, his posture remaining exactly the same. Harry quickly cast healing charms at him that would alleviate and soreness, be it of muscles, joints, or skin. Then, he raised the bed to a seated position and fluffed the pillows.

“Okay, now please lower him down into a comfortable seated position, Kreacher.”

Snape steadily descended back onto the bed, gradually changing his posture on the way down.

“Good?”

Snape blinked once and seemed to sigh in relief.

“Thank you, Kreacher. You did great.” Kreacher popped away without a response.

“Alright, now for the other stuff. Could you come back into my mind, so you can ask me questions?” Harry drew up his chair and looked into Snape’s eyes, signaling his readiness.

Snape easily slipped into his mind and promptly erected the privacy screens, as he had earlier. You mentioned my trial, yesterday? Snape queried.

Yes. It’s four days from now. Hermione and I have been working on your defense. We’ve gotten a pretty solid foundation, but there are some things we wanted to ask you about, if you’re up for it.

It’s my trial, Potter. I have a vested interest to not leave my defense up to two dunderheaded Gryffindors, Snape replied wryly.

Harry didn’t share his amusement. You better hope we’re good enough. Thing is, Professor, no matter how airtight our arguments may be, the public is out for blood. Lots of people at the ministry are trying to save themselves by throwing other people under the bus. Nobody got out of this war without a few skeletons in the closet, and projecting an image of anti-Death-Eater rigour is a good strategy to avoid the public’s ire.

It was like that, after the first war, as well, Snape supplied.

Harry nodded. It’s absolute chaos. Everybody keeps backstabbing each other, digging up as much dirt as they can and either calling for a trial or running straight to the Prophet for some good old character assassination. And the trials, especially for marked Death Eaters, Harry gave a mental wince in apology, have become pure spectacles. Really, the only way to win them is by winning public approval.

Harry felt a wave of dark humour, along with a feeling of resignation, emanate from the mental link. Well, I’ve always won in the court of public approval, haven’t I? Snape asked sardonically.

Maybe not. But that’s why you have me to do it for you.

You certainly have a perfect record when it comes to public opinion, Snape snarked.

Harry huffed. The British Magical Community is currently rather divided on the topic of one Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Conqueror of the Dark Lord, Harry said, as though reading from an article. Adored by some, feared by others, most don’t quite know what to make of the young wizard. One thing, however, is clear: everyone expects great things of Potter. Harry could not quite keep his bitterness and resentment from leaking through.

They fear you? Snape asked after a moment’s consideration.

Some do. If beating Tommy wasn’t enough, the whole coming-back-from-the-dead thing certainly made a lot of people freak out. The Unspeakables desperately want to speak to me, and the papers speculate about necromancy and Dark Arts.

Snape snorted derisively in his head. Fools.

Harry grinned. Exactly. They are fearful idiots. Which we can use at your trial. If you’re found guilty despite our best efforts, I will demand house arrest as your sentence, instead of prison. I am certain that people won’t want to piss me off enough to object to that.

I’m hardly innocent, Potter. And you forget the small issue of my paralysis. Even if I am, by some lucky mistake, not sent to Azkaban, I am as good as dead, anyways. Anybody who wishes can take their revenge upon me without having to overcome any resistance on my part. I suppose the dementor’s kiss might be preferable.

Harry had to simply breathe for a few moments, as Snape's brutal assessment made his chest feel tight and resonated with his own fatalism. He swallowed. Hermione had the dementor’s kiss outlawed last week. So, if it’s an easy out you’re looking for, you might have to think of something else. However, you falsely assume that we – that I – would simply leave you to your own devices. Madam Pomfrey certainly would not be amused if all her efforts in saving your life went to waste. At the very least you will be taken care of until you have gained some independence. What you do after that, is, of course, up to you.

I appreciate Poppy’s efforts. But I cannot intrude upon her kindness forever. I will be transferred to St. Mungo’s sooner rather than later and you have already witnessed what treatment I can expect there.

Firstly, Harry snapped, it’s a bit insulting to Madam Pomfrey to think she would take her Healer’s Oath so lightly and not insure you are treated well, especially when I tell her about what happened today. Secondly, you talk as if there’s nobody to take care of you outside of a professional capacity. But what do you think preparing for your trial and restoring your reputation and sending away that abusive chit and swearing an oath mean? You might not see it, or like it, but lots of people, me included, want to take care of you. Harry’s eyes were boring into Snape’s.

I did not mean to disregard your or Miss Granger’s contributions, Potter and the sentiment is appreciated, truly.
Harry could tell that Snape was honest in his gratitude but at the same time he did not really believe Harry’s assurances. Before Harry could formulate a response, they were interrupted by the entrance of Madam Pomfrey. They both looked at her, breaking their mental connection.

“Potter, I have been looking for you,” Madam Pomfrey said, her eyes flicking between them to assess the situation. “I’ve just had a call from St. Mungo’s, telling me that you dismissed one of my assistants.” She turned her stern gaze on Harry.

“Yes. Healer Maladies was in breach of her Healer’s Oath,” Harry said with a stubborn tilt of his chin.

“That is a serious accusation, Potter.”

Harry thought he heard Snape exhale through his nose, as though he was laughing at him.

“She cast several overpowered scourgify at Snape, while spewing vile bigoted bullcrap,” Harry explained vehemently.

“Is that so?” Madam Pomfrey turned to Snape with a raised eyebrow. Snape blinked once and let his face show his agreement.

“I see.” Madam Pomfrey relaxed, and her lip curled in approval. “You will have to provide evidence of your claims, Mr. Potter, but I suppose you are used to that by now. This still leaves us with the problem of being one healer short for the night shift.”

“I’m sorry for creating more work for you, Ma’am.” Harry said contritely.

“Don’t worry about that, Potter. If what you said is true, you simply saved me the trouble of sacking her myself. I will ask St. Mungo’s for a more suitable replacement, momentarily. But first.” She lifted her wand and cast the same general diagnostic Harry had earlier. She frowned at the parchment in her hand. “Did Healer Maladies…”, she started, but then her expression cleared. “Ah. Mr. Potter has aided you I assume?” she asked, looking at Snape. He blinked once. “And, in the future, would you be content to let Mr. Potter assist you again, should he be available at the time?” Snape again blinked once, although he seemed thoroughly disgruntled by the question. Harry shared a look with Madam Pomfrey. “Very well. I will leave you in Mr. Potter’s capable hands, Severus.” She smiled at him. “And you, Potter, get some sleep!” With that admonishment, she turned on her heal and left.

Harry looked at Snape and felt him enter his mind. I, too, should rest, Potter.

“Alright. Kreacher? Could you lower the bed back down?” Harry felt the sizzle of elf magic as the bed slowly resumed its horizontal position.

“Do you need anything else?”

No. Thank you, Potter. Goodnight.

“Goodnight, sir. See you tomorrow.”

Harry left the hospital wing, reassured by Kreacher’s watchful presence near the entrance to Snape’s curtained room.