Remember Your Heart

"Why don't you bring Mr. Snape his breakfast, Harry? I'll just check by around dinner. There's the list of potions for him to take until then." Hypericia handed Harry a list of instructions. "Run a cleansing charm over him, will you? He'll bitch, but don't be put off. He should be awake longer this morning and nap after lunch. Floo St Mungo's if you have any emergency. I'm off!" Hypericia grinned, was out the door without a word from Harry.

Harry placed porridge, toast and tea on the tray and tucked the Daily Prophet under his arm. He headed upstairs, wondering why he felt so much better today. "It's not as if Snape likes me any better today," he thought. Harry sighed. "Let's see what other creative accusations he can spew forth."

Harry gently toed opened the door to the guest room. Snape was lying flat on his back, wide awake. Hypericia had not propped him up. His color looked better, compared to yesterday anyway, since he was generally sallow. Snape watched as Harry came into the room.

"Good morning, Professor," greeted Harry. "Hypericia said something a bit more solid might be good today. Let me help you up." Harry kept his voice bland, as he knew a cheery voice would only irritate Snape. Snape gave a short nod and Harry slipped an arm around him, pulled him up and arranged the pillows so Snape could sit comfortably. Snape weighed nearly nothing to Harry, which was quite worrisome. When Harry stepped back, Snape was glaring.

"You are a wizard, are you not? Must you paw me?" he said.

"I guess you bring out the bumbling teenager in me, sir." Harry couldn't keep his lips from quirking with humor. Harry set the tray on Snape's lap, gave a small wave of his hand so that the tray would hover there at the proper height, and he sat down on chair near the bedside. Snape's hand trembled violently as he reached for the spoon. Harry moved closer, picked up the spoon, scooped up some porridge and offered a bite. Snape's face paled and seemed to tighten, but he slowly opened his mouth and accepted the porridge. Harry fed him until Snape refused more.

"Soon you'll be strong enough to throw the food at me, as well as eat by yourself. There's no shame in this, but I know it's uncomfortable. I've spent enough time in a sick bed to understand," Harry said softly.

"Of all the things I don't want from you, pity is the one I want least," hissed Snape.

"It's more empathy, sir, than pity," Harry checked a sharper response.

Snape managed some of the toast by himself, the shaking mattered far less as long as he got the toast to his mouth. Harry put his hand over Snape's to assist with the tea.

When Snape finished, Harry gave another wave of his hand and the tray drifted off to the kitchen to clean up.

"Showing off?" said Snape.

"I was reminded recently that I am a wizard," Snape snorted. Harry offered the newspaper, which Snape took, and excused himself.

Harry went off to do some minor housekeeping, review the morning owl post and generally attend those little daily items that demand attention. He checked in on Snape perhaps 20 minutes later and saw the professor squinting at the paper. Between the movement of the paper's pictures and the vibration of his hands, Snape was having difficulties. Harry watched the paper slide to the floor; Snape grunted his irritation and laid his head on the pillows, eyes closed. Harry came into the room quietly, picked up the paper, took a moment to put the paper in its proper order, sat on the chair and began to read aloud.

"Former Minister Fudge Rocked By Scandal," Harry read.

"I've already read that. Start on page three, the article on the new werewolf legislation," Snape ordered. Harry read, skipping articles as directed.

"Cannons Can't Catch," Harry sighed. "Just as well that I missed that game. Ron must be miserable; the Cannons were doing so well there for a while.

Snape sniffed, "The Cannons will never win, there's a curse on them, supposedly by the Gloucestershire Gargoyles."

"I've never heard that."

"You have to be in the right circles to know that. How have the Harpies done?"

"Subtly cheated their way to the national championship five years running."

"Not so subtle if their cheating has been suspected."

"Flint's playing for them now. He's not subtle and I've played against him so I know he cheats."

"Played recently?" asked Snape.

"No, too busy for Quidditch. Besides I don't want to be on a team just for looks or as a draw; I want to play because the team thinks I'm talented enough to be an asset. Getting too old for that now and I'm still too busy," Harry sighed.

"I rather think a cabbage would be of more use to the Cannons than their current team."

Harry chuckled, "You're almost funny. Of course now I'll have to have Ron look into this supposed curse. He's an Auror now, married to Hermione and they have twins, Milo and David. The twins are about six months now, both with the Weasley red hair. Hermione is a researcher for some think tank who contracts with the ministry."

"Other than the former Miss Granger at a think tank, there are so many things wrong on so many levels with your recent statements that I've chosen to ignore that you even spoke." Harry chuckled again. "Order a copy of the most recent Potions Today. Have you told anyone of my being here?"

"Other than Hypericia, Ron and Hermione, no," Harry replied.

"Who's headmaster at Hogwarts?"

"Professor McGonagall."

"Send her an owl, explain the situation, and tell her I'd like to speak with her at her convenience."

"I'll invite her to dinner on the weekend, or would you rather wait until you're up and about?"

"No, whenever she's available. I'm tired, you may leave. First get rid of all these damn pillows." Harry flicked his wrist and all but two of the pillows disappeared while Snape was gently lowered.

"Oh! I did forget something. Accio wand!" Harry's wand flew into the room; he pointed the wand at Snape, who stiffened. Harry muttered a charm and raced out the door.

"Potter!" Snape yelled to the retreating figure, in protest of the cleansing charm Harry had hit him with.

The week passed uneventfully. Snape groused and grumbled. Harry fed him despite the glares, cleansed him despite the yelling, and sent for reading material as ordered. Hypericia checked in once a day and reduced the number of potions that Snape was required to ingest.

"Well, I think you'll be fine this weekend without me," stated Hypericia on Friday. "So I'll be back in on Monday when we'll need to discuss physical therapy. I'll have to bring in someone else for that. Let me think on it the weekend, need someone I can trust and I don't really know many of the therapists." Hypericia was sitting next to Snape's bed; Harry standing in the doorway.

Snape had sneered at the idea of physical therapy. "A simple muscle stimulation potion should suffice. Another person and this therapy won't be required," he said.

"Well, just like a nutritive potion isn't a replacement for food; a muscle stimulation potion will aid you, and probably be used, but it's not a substitution for actually getting off your ass and moving," Hypericia smiled and patted Snape's hand, which withdrew quickly. "Potions can't do everything."

Harry laughed, "Why Hypericia, don't you know you can brew fame, bottle glory and put a stopper in death?" Snape glowered at Harry.

Hypericia laughed as well, "Now I know where to go should I need any of that. Enjoy your weekend! I'm away to Bath myself. Always good to take some quiet time to renew. I'll see you lads on Monday." Still chuckling, Hypericia left.

"Mocking me?" asked Snape.

"Teasing a bit. You'll survive," Harry smiled at Snape, who sneered in return. "I've a note from Professor McGonagall. She can't come for dinner, but she'll stop in tomorrow afternoon to visit with you." Snape nodded and gestured for Harry to begin reading the recent copy of Potions Update. Harry picked up the journal, "Hypericia's mention of Bath made me wonder, would you rather have me assist you in a real bath, instead of the cleansing charm?" Harry flipped to where he had left off prior to Hypericia's arrival and glanced at Snape for an answer. Snape was looking warily at Harry.

"Professor?" Harry asked. He thought he asked a simple question.

"I think not," Snape finally responded. Considering him quite odd, Harry shrugged and began reading.

On Saturday afternoon, Harry was pleased to have Headmistress Minerva McGonagall in his home.

"Headmistress, so good to see you," Harry said, smiling, as he opened the door for her. Her hair was in her usual tight bun, with more gray than Harry remembered and the lines showed clearly on her face. She hugged him briefly and stepped back to look at him carefully, her hands at his shoulders holding him in place.

"Please Harry, call me Minerva. It's wonderful to see you as well. I believe it's been years since we've seen one another. You must stop up at Hogwarts' from time to time," she scolded.

"It's hard to go back there," Harry said softly.

"I know, but there's a portrait in my office that might have a few words of comfort for you," she cupped his check briefly. "The artist did a wonderful job capturing that twinkle. I do believe that he encourages the mischief of the other portraits as well." She smiled at this recollection.

Harry smiled, "The professor is in the room at the top of the stairs, to the left. Shall I bring up tea?"

"How is he?"

"Snarky git as usual. He's recovering nicely and quickly from years of neglect. Mediwitch Hypericia from St. Mungo's has been enormously helpful."

"Where did you find him?"

"A Muggle insane asylum, diagnosed with some strange acute delusional condition with violent tendencies. He didn't know a thing that was happening to him when I went to get him. He's changed so much in the past two weeks. He hasn't said anything, but I think he's looking forward to having his life back." Minerva pursed her lips.

"How did he end up in the institution where you found him?" she inquired.

"Don't know. It was blind luck that my investigator found him there at all. There were no transfer papers; his name was different than any other we've seen used. Snape hasn't really talked of his experiences and I haven't asked."

"Harry, I would like to speak to Severus privately," Minerva said.

"Of course. I'll send up the tea tray." Minerva went up the stairs to see Snape and Harry sent the levitated tea tray shortly thereafter.

Harry sat at a small writing desk in his living room, catching up on paperwork. After the defeat of Voldemort, he had found himself the recipient of a great deal of money, donations from wizard folk throughout the British Isles, and the world, in gratitude of what he had done. He received everything from the few knuts saved up by a school child to thousands of galleons from appreciative wealthy gentry and businesses. Harry couldn't keep such money for himself, nor could he return it without insulting a great many people, so he set up a charitable foundation to aid Voldemort's victims. When that was reported in the Daily Prophet, even more money poured him. It quickly spun out of his control and Harry soon found it necessary to hire a staff, secure office space, create the proper accounts at Gringotts, and generally act not only as a responsible adult but as the director of a multi-million galleon charitable organization. Fortunately, he put good people in place at the White Bumblebee Foundation to handle most things, but Harry did like to be involved and gave final approval to all major grants.

Harry was now reviewing a request for housing assistance and financial support for a Muggleborn witch who had a six year old daughter, courtesy of rape by Draco Malfoy. Harry approved the request with an additional note to aid the witch in finding employment and necessary child care. Malfoy's death was one that Harry did not regret, although he died at Ron's spell in the end. Malfoy had engendered two children through rape that Harry knew.

Harry worked for a while, and then sent off Hedwig to deliver papers to the Foundation. He got up, summoned a butterbeer and sat on the couch. "McGonagall's been up there a long time," he thought. "Snape hasn't talked to me that long. I could have updated him on quite a few things, if he had wanted to know. Another snub I imagine. Why is this bothering me? I've fed him, cleansed him, read to him, dosed him with potions, and fluffed his pillows. Bloody hell, I'm just a manservant!"

Harry got up and poured himself a Firewhiskey. "I need to call Ron and go hang out. Except Ron's married with children now so he doesn't hang out all that much anymore. How about Dean or Seamus or even Neville? Neville's married to Susan Bones. Dean's married to some Ravenclaw. Now Seamus is still footloose, I'll have to get in touch with him. The Weasley twins are still playing the field as well and they'll be good fun. I deserve some fun. When Snape's well enough, I'll go out on the town." Harry groaned. "And be mobbed again. Maybe we can go to muggle London instead where no one knows me. Yeah, that's what we'll do and we'll invite Seamus too."

Harry looked up as Minerva came down the stairs. Her face was blank, unreadable.

"Can I offer you a drink?" Harry felt concerned for her. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's fine," she gave him a thin smile. "I'm afraid I'll need to pass on that drink. Please stop in next time you're in the area and see me. I need to return to Hogwarts now." Harry gave her a hug and she squeezed him back. "Hermione visited not long ago, but I believe she just wanted to show the library to the twins," she smiled more naturally this time and Harry smiled back. "Take care, Harry."

"Take care, Minerva." McGonagall stepped away from Harry and apparated with a crack.

Harry walked upstairs and tapped on Snape's door.

"Yes?" Snape replied, sounding exhausted. Harry stepped inside and saw that Snape looked as exhausted as his voice indicated.

"Would you like me to bring dinner?" Harry waved away the tea things.

"No," Snape closed his eyes.

"You should take your evening potions then, in case you sleep the night." Harry picked up the two potions Hypericia had instructed to be taken in the evening. Snape drank them and lay down after Harry banished the extra pillows.

"Do you want to talk?" Harry wondered if it was really exhaustion or something else.

"No."

A spike of hot anger shot through Harry. "Insufferable prat!" he raged in his head. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, closing the door with more force than necessary. "Talking to me would me acknowledging me as an adult. Can't have that can we?" Harry walked across the hall to his own room letting that door close loudly as well. He paced around the room for a few minutes waiting for his irritation to abate. When it didn't, Harry stomped down the stairs, summoned his Firebolt from over the living room mantle and stepped outside. Before taking off, Harry spelled his wand to alert him if Snape had an emergency.

"Up!" he commanded his Firebolt. The broom hovered for him at the perfect height. That height had definitely changed since third year, when he received the broom. Seventh year, he had a final growth spurt where he capped off his height at a respectable six foot even. It didn't even put him close to Ron, but at least he didn't look up to nearly everyone. Harry pushed off the ground and accelerated, choosing to stay low and skim the trees, even to duck down and slalom between the trees. Harry whooped in pure exhilaration. "I've got do this more often!" he thought. Harry cruised out to the sea, which was only a few miles from his cottage. The fog was in so Harry chanced no one seeing him. The waves were large due to a storm further out and Harry dove into the troughs between swells, climbing out just high enough to smack the top of the wave with his hand before diving into the next trough.

He played like this for nearly an hour, before flying home, exhausted, wet and happy. He charmed his Firebolt and himself dry and checked on Snape, who was sound asleep. After a light supper, Harry sat again in the living room staring at the fire with a glass of Firewhiskey. "Snape hates me and that's fact," he thought. "So I'll do my duty and when he's ready, he'll be out of my life and I can start living without guilt." Knocking back the Firewhiskey, Harry headed off to bed wondering why he had to keep giving himself these little talks.

Sunday morning Harry brought up breakfast and the paper to Snape and left without a word. Harry had decided to get back to working on his herb garden, the one he had abandoned over a week ago when Snape had regained consciousness. He busied himself with laying out the herb garden location and digging out the grass and weeds, which were added to the compost pile. Later he would turn over the soil and amend it with finished compost. Harry paused after an hour to check on Snape and collect his breakfast tray. Snape had finished the tea, but had barely eaten anything.

"Okay, sir?" Harry asked. "You didn't eat much."

"Go away," Snape said, without lifting his eyes from the paper.

Harry sighed, took care of the breakfast tray and returned to his gardening. Harry glanced up at the window to Snape's room at one point, sure that he was being watched and caught a glimpse of Snape's face at the window. "He's out of bed," thought Harry, worried. He made sure the wand was set to alert him if Snape had an emergency. Fifteen minutes later Harry was startled by the shrieking alarm from his wand. He stared at his wand for a moment before his mind processed what was happening and then apparated to Snape's room.