Long Way Down (HP)
Feb. 28th, 2005 10:54 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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picfor1000Waiting till the last minute is especially bad when the community journal is stuck in Read Only Mode. ^^;
Title: Long Way Down
Author: Briar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13 for subject matter
Pairing: Gen - Harry/Severus/Draco
Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm no foul. The characters belong to JKR and assorted licensors. I'm just borrowing them strictly for entertainment.
Notes: AU, post-war, post-Hogwarts. Deals with sensitive subject matter. When the idea first came to me, with these characters, I deemed it impossible. However, it refused to be written any other way, and I only hope it works. Assigned picture can be seen here.
Boxes are still stacked against the hallway walls, and Harry is careful to avoid bumping into them as he enters the kitchen. It is early still, and he doesn't want to wake Snape or Draco and endure a lecture on how he needs rest. Sleep is still hard for him; even on good days he is afraid he may not wake.
Three mugs sit on the table in the otherwise empty room. He has to smile at their blue and white stripes, neutral colors chosen because they were neither Gryffindor nor Slytherin. No matter how much things change, there are always things that remain the same and it is obvious that house rivalry is one of the latter.
He hooks a finger through one of the handles and takes the mug to the sink. Opening the cupboard above reveals the only other thing currently unpacked in this room, rows of prescription bottles with his name typed neatly on each one.
He takes the Muggle medicines faithfully, even when they seem to make things worse. Snape only sniffs in disdain over his piles of books and trailing scrolls of notes, hiding his concern. Draco offers warm, weak tea and wipes Harry's face with a cool cloth.
When Harry is too ill to do more than lie there, forcing his eyes open against the fear that if they close he may never see anything again, Draco tells him things in a quiet, still voice. Stories about how his mother wouldn't come near him when he was sick. How she was unwilling to risk illness herself, even when Draco cried for her and was afraid.
They never discuss the things that Draco says at times like these when Harry is feeling well. On those days they snark back and forth until Snape is driven to snap at them both. Beneath that facade there is a sense of kinship, if not quite actual friendship. The past is too deeply ingrained for either of them to forget entirely, no matter the trials they faced together in the war.
The war changed a lot of things. Sometimes it had been hard to tell who was on which side from one moment to the next, but even now Harry marvels over the fact that Draco had sided with, and played a vital role for, the Order.
No one had known that Snape had begun grooming Draco to spy shortly after the boy came to Hogwarts. Oh, Dumbledore had known, had helped to form the plan, but no one else was told. It was brilliant, really. Snape was set up to be the obvious scapegoat if a spy were suspected, and Draco worked in the background without even the faintest hint of suspicion cast on him.
Brilliant or no, the ploy that won them the war or not, Harry still cursed the plan whenever he saw Snape painfully measuring potion ingredients with stiff and knotted fingers, or caught the limp in the formerly graceful stride. It had been Harry who had stopped the tortures Voldemort was inflicting on Snape, and he knew just what scars lingered under the cloak that Snape hid behind.
Harry had won the war, but the toll was high and in his grief and self-loathing he had abandoned the wizarding world. He buried himself in a Muggle life designed to make him forget. Recklessly he sampled drugs for the blankness they offered, fell in and out of relationships looking for something he couldn't define. For a while, it seemed like enough.
When the call came it brought everything to a grinding halt. At first he'd thought it some kind of justice. All those lives lost; now it was his turn. It made a grim sort of sense, and with that thought he prepared to say his goodbyes to people he hadn't seen in years.
He found Draco first, as soon as he walked onto the Hogwarts grounds, in hopes of locating Hermione and Ron. He still remembers the way Draco's fist had felt against his jaw.
“You think that just because you've got some disease you can give up and die? You think that makes up for all the people that sacrificed to keep you alive?” Draco had been shaking with his fury, fists clenched as though he could barely restrain himself from lashing out further.
There had been more words, yelling, Harry belligerent and Draco enraged, until Harry was slumped on the ground and Draco had turned his back on the other man. That was how Snape found had them, locked in uncomfortable silence.
Snape echoed Draco's sentiments with scathing words that made Harry blush with shame. Only after offering what he deemed sufficient chastisement did Snape say the words that caused hope to find a place to take root in a corner of Harry's heart.
“You saved the wizarding world. Perhaps this time it can save you, Potter.”
It wouldn't be so easy as that, of course. In the wizarding world HIV was a relatively unknown disease from the standpoint of the healers. It was impossible to avoid hearing of it, but cases among wizards seemed to be rare. There was some belief that wizarding folk had an immunity, though no studies had been done to confirm the idea.
Determined that magic could do better than Muggle science, Snape began research of his own. Respecting Harry's wishes, he did not make it known that the case involved the Boy Who Lived. It was only a small group because of that, most of the actual work being done by Snape himself.
And so the three of them found their tangled threads bound up in an unexpected knot a half-dozen years after the war. Having declared the dungeons detrimental to Harry's health Snape insisted that they all move to a house in Hogsmead. This sterile, sunlit kitchen Harry stands in is the result. He only hopes he has enough time left for them to make it a home where laughter is welcome.
Title: Long Way Down
Author: Briar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13 for subject matter
Pairing: Gen - Harry/Severus/Draco
Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm no foul. The characters belong to JKR and assorted licensors. I'm just borrowing them strictly for entertainment.
Notes: AU, post-war, post-Hogwarts. Deals with sensitive subject matter. When the idea first came to me, with these characters, I deemed it impossible. However, it refused to be written any other way, and I only hope it works. Assigned picture can be seen here.
Boxes are still stacked against the hallway walls, and Harry is careful to avoid bumping into them as he enters the kitchen. It is early still, and he doesn't want to wake Snape or Draco and endure a lecture on how he needs rest. Sleep is still hard for him; even on good days he is afraid he may not wake.
Three mugs sit on the table in the otherwise empty room. He has to smile at their blue and white stripes, neutral colors chosen because they were neither Gryffindor nor Slytherin. No matter how much things change, there are always things that remain the same and it is obvious that house rivalry is one of the latter.
He hooks a finger through one of the handles and takes the mug to the sink. Opening the cupboard above reveals the only other thing currently unpacked in this room, rows of prescription bottles with his name typed neatly on each one.
He takes the Muggle medicines faithfully, even when they seem to make things worse. Snape only sniffs in disdain over his piles of books and trailing scrolls of notes, hiding his concern. Draco offers warm, weak tea and wipes Harry's face with a cool cloth.
When Harry is too ill to do more than lie there, forcing his eyes open against the fear that if they close he may never see anything again, Draco tells him things in a quiet, still voice. Stories about how his mother wouldn't come near him when he was sick. How she was unwilling to risk illness herself, even when Draco cried for her and was afraid.
They never discuss the things that Draco says at times like these when Harry is feeling well. On those days they snark back and forth until Snape is driven to snap at them both. Beneath that facade there is a sense of kinship, if not quite actual friendship. The past is too deeply ingrained for either of them to forget entirely, no matter the trials they faced together in the war.
The war changed a lot of things. Sometimes it had been hard to tell who was on which side from one moment to the next, but even now Harry marvels over the fact that Draco had sided with, and played a vital role for, the Order.
No one had known that Snape had begun grooming Draco to spy shortly after the boy came to Hogwarts. Oh, Dumbledore had known, had helped to form the plan, but no one else was told. It was brilliant, really. Snape was set up to be the obvious scapegoat if a spy were suspected, and Draco worked in the background without even the faintest hint of suspicion cast on him.
Brilliant or no, the ploy that won them the war or not, Harry still cursed the plan whenever he saw Snape painfully measuring potion ingredients with stiff and knotted fingers, or caught the limp in the formerly graceful stride. It had been Harry who had stopped the tortures Voldemort was inflicting on Snape, and he knew just what scars lingered under the cloak that Snape hid behind.
Harry had won the war, but the toll was high and in his grief and self-loathing he had abandoned the wizarding world. He buried himself in a Muggle life designed to make him forget. Recklessly he sampled drugs for the blankness they offered, fell in and out of relationships looking for something he couldn't define. For a while, it seemed like enough.
When the call came it brought everything to a grinding halt. At first he'd thought it some kind of justice. All those lives lost; now it was his turn. It made a grim sort of sense, and with that thought he prepared to say his goodbyes to people he hadn't seen in years.
He found Draco first, as soon as he walked onto the Hogwarts grounds, in hopes of locating Hermione and Ron. He still remembers the way Draco's fist had felt against his jaw.
“You think that just because you've got some disease you can give up and die? You think that makes up for all the people that sacrificed to keep you alive?” Draco had been shaking with his fury, fists clenched as though he could barely restrain himself from lashing out further.
There had been more words, yelling, Harry belligerent and Draco enraged, until Harry was slumped on the ground and Draco had turned his back on the other man. That was how Snape found had them, locked in uncomfortable silence.
Snape echoed Draco's sentiments with scathing words that made Harry blush with shame. Only after offering what he deemed sufficient chastisement did Snape say the words that caused hope to find a place to take root in a corner of Harry's heart.
“You saved the wizarding world. Perhaps this time it can save you, Potter.”
It wouldn't be so easy as that, of course. In the wizarding world HIV was a relatively unknown disease from the standpoint of the healers. It was impossible to avoid hearing of it, but cases among wizards seemed to be rare. There was some belief that wizarding folk had an immunity, though no studies had been done to confirm the idea.
Determined that magic could do better than Muggle science, Snape began research of his own. Respecting Harry's wishes, he did not make it known that the case involved the Boy Who Lived. It was only a small group because of that, most of the actual work being done by Snape himself.
And so the three of them found their tangled threads bound up in an unexpected knot a half-dozen years after the war. Having declared the dungeons detrimental to Harry's health Snape insisted that they all move to a house in Hogsmead. This sterile, sunlit kitchen Harry stands in is the result. He only hopes he has enough time left for them to make it a home where laughter is welcome.
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