Silver and Gold 3/? DH Spoilers
SPOILERS FOR DH



Title: Silver and Gold 3/?
Author: Eriador117
Rating: NC-17, Snape/Harry, other pairings.
Spoilers up to and including Deathly Hallows
Summary: Things are never quite what they seem. Epilogue, what epilogue? ;)
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the Potterverse, I'm just playing in it.
Beta'd by Rakina, many thanks :)
Warnings: AU, Angst, Mpreg, Under 18 (briefly). There are some other things I am not warning for as it will give away the plot and I myself don't exactly know where the story is going yet.


Earlier Parts

Part Three

After Snape's revelation about the Patronus, Harry fled the infirmary and wandered out by the lake. What did it mean that Snape's Patronus was supposed to be Harry? Snape wasn't – he couldn't be in love with Harry, could he? Snape himself said it didn't have to mean that… that he and Lily had been just friends. But Snape had never been friends with Harry. They'd both been antagonistic towards each other for years. Had all of that been a front? Just to put the Death Eaters' children off the scent? That Snape cared for him in some way? Harry sat down by the edge of the lake, gravel crunching under his bum.

Besides himself and the staff, the castle was deserted. All the students had been sent home early and no exams would be taken at Hogwarts this year. The students were free to sit their exams at the Ministry if they desired, or they could return to Hogwarts for an extra year. All the classes would be held back a year due to the disruption the war had caused.

It was very tempting; Harry had decided against it first of all when he thought he might be in the same class as Ginny, but she would still be in her sixth year while Harry would be in his seventh. Ginny had tried to corner him at Fred's funeral, but there had been so many Weasleys there that it had been easy for Harry to slip away when some cousins had started talking to her.

Harry's hand searched for stones to throw into the water. He remembered when Fred had taught him to pick the smooth flat ones that were best for skimming and Harry felt the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, though he hadn't cried at all at the funeral. It wasn't fair! Fred shouldn't be dead. Or Hedwig. Or Colin. Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye. Dobby. Poor Teddy an orphan almost as soon as he'd been born. The names and faces blurred as Harry cried and cried, feeling such grief and guilt over so many deaths. His heart thudded madly against his ribs; his throat ached and snot was running down his nose, but still he couldn't stop the tears from falling. He grabbed a handful of stones, not looking to see which were best for skimming and hurled them into the water, howling as he did so.

They shouldn't be dead. None of them. It should have been Harry.

Harry stood up and walked towards the water; he had no Gillyweed this time, but he wouldn't need it.

The water was chillier than he expected despite the sunshine gleaming on the lake and Harry's teeth began chattering before he got very far. He wondered if he should have removed his shoes before wading into the lake, but realised that soon it wouldn't really matter. Clothes and shoes wouldn't matter. Nothing would.

As the cool water began lapping around Harry's knees, he was yanked backwards and pressed against a rather broad chest.

"Harry! What do yeh think yeh were doing, eh?" demanded Hagrid, shaking Harry so hard that he almost fell into the water anyway.

"I was going for a swim."

"With yer clothes still on? Come on; let's get yeh back to Madam Pomfrey. She'll be having words to say about this!"

"No! Please, Hagrid! Please don't tell anyone! I won't do it again!" Harry was sobbing now, taking great gulps of air that made his lungs ache and his head spin. "It's my fault! It's my fault they died!"

"Ssh, Harry. It's not, it's not. 'Twas a war, Harry. People get kilt in wars. It's no one's fault. These things just 'appen."

Harry wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that none of it had been his fault. But then none of them knew that part of Voldemort's soul had been in Harry's body all these years, did they? What would they do if they found that out? Would they be so inclined to believe that Harry was blameless? How could he be blameless? Voldemort had been the Dark Lord and if Harry had part of Voldemort in him, didn't that mean that Harry was Dark too? He must be!

"I should be – d-d-dead!" Harry wailed, turning around and burying his face in Hagrid's midriff. His jeans were clinging to his legs like damp cement and he just knew that if Hagrid wasn't holding him up he would have fallen to the floor. "I'm not supposed to be here!"

"Of course yeh are! Ye're a hero! The Boy Who Lived! And yeh lived again, didn't yeh? C'mon, I'll take yeh back to me cabin and yeh can get out of them wet clothes. We don't want yeh catching cold, do we?"

Harry had little defence against Hagrid's stubborn common sense and he nodded against the giant's chest, feeling too wrung out to do much else. Hagrid scooped Harry up in his arms, despite Harry's protests to the contrary, and brought him back to the cabin by the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Fang barked a greeting, then went back to sleep in the corner by the fire.

Hagrid set Harry down on the bed and started to pull Harry's t-shirt off his chest. "I can do it!" Harry said quickly as he yanked the garment over his head. He had always been uncomfortable about changing in front of people. The Dursleys had been prudish in the extreme and Harry knew his upbringing was to blame, but there wasn't a lot he could do about it. "Hagrid, please, can you turn round?"

"Oh, oh, sorry Harry. Didn't mean to make yeh uncomfortable. I'll just stoke the fire for yeh, get yeh warm in no time," said Hagrid as he poked the fire, his back to Harry. Harry took the opportunity to divest himself of the rest of his clothes and then wrapped himself in the quilt that had been on the bed. He cast a drying charm on his clothes, but they still looked quite wrinkled. Harry never had learned that ironing charm of Hermione's. Maybe girls were better at that sort of thing… and then Harry wondered if that was being a bit sexist.

Harry put on his dry clothes and wandered over to the fire. Now that his clothes were dry, he wasn't feeling as cold any longer, but he thought he'd better stay awhile after Hagrid had gone to all that trouble. Shame made his face heat, much more than the heat from the blaze.

"Harry, yeh know yeh can talk to me if anything's bothering yeh, don't yeh? Yeh haven't been sleeping. Them shadows under yer eyes ain't for nuthin', are they?"

"Nightmares," said Harry, but didn't elaborate. He wasn't sure he could talk about them with anyone. Hagrid was so pure and good, how could he understand? How could any of them understand the Darkness that was in Harry? Harry rubbed at the scar on his forehead; it hadn't ached since Voldemort had died, but it was still there. Still a constant reminder that Voldemort had used Harry's body to house his soul. Harry felt dirty all the time now. He felt soiled in a way he didn't think anyone else could understand. No one except perhaps Professor Snape.

"Harry, I know some people think I'm not much of a wizard and a waste of space an' all, but I can't let yeh go on thinking that things get so bad there's no option but to do yerself in. That's not an answer, Harry. I don't know what I'd do if I lost yeh! Ye're like a son to me, Harry! Me own son!" Hagrid started sobbing so loudly that he woke up Fang and Harry felt his heart sink to his feet.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid. I never meant to hurt you."

"I know, Harry lad. Ye're a good'un, but there's so much death already, we don't need more, do we?"

"No. I'm sorry. I – I have to go. I need to see Professor Snape."

"Aye, there's a good lad. He'll be right pleased to see yeh too."

Harry wasn't so sure of that, but he knew he couldn't stay in the warmth of Hagrid's cabin any longer.

***

Severus slept fitfully; his sleep had been the first thing to suffer when he'd first joined the Dark Lord as a reckless teenager and his years of spying hadn't helped. Always alert even when he rested, for he knew that to let down his guard was to endanger his life. He wasn't surprised to find Potter in the infirmary when he woke, although he had wondered after the boy had left so suddenly after the discussion of Severus' Patronus.

What was surprising, was that Potter wasn't exactly by his bedside; in fact he was on Severus' infirmary bed, curled up like a sleeping baby, his knees almost tucked beneath his chin. His back was to Severus' but he could hear the boy's soft snores as he rested. About bloody time thought Severus. He may be ill but he was a master of observation.

Potter hadn't been sleeping since the last battle. His eyes were bloodshot and so shadowed that sometimes Severus felt as if he'd been looking at a corpse. Potter's temper had been frayed around the edges, much like the boy had been in fifth year and Severus knew that the nightmares and visits from the Dark Lord's mind had made the boy miss out on so much sleep then too. It was amazing how much lack of sleep affected a person.

Severus didn't dare move in case he woke Potter, for the boy needed as much rest as he could get. Severus knew he hadn't made it easy on Potter by being such an arse, but he kept telling himself it was for Potter's own good, for Harry could never know why Severus' Patronus had been a fawn or why Severus had helped the Light all these years.

Harry Potter had enough baggage to start up his own luggage emporium; he didn't need any more.

"Professor," came a loud hiss from his right. Severus turned his head without moving the rest of his body.

"Yes, Hagrid?"

"Can yeh keep an eye on Harry?"

"He's almost of age, I daresay he can look after himself," said Severus.

"He probably can, after being brought up by those Muggles," spat Hagrid. Severus was surprised; Hagrid has always seemed in favour of Muggles and Muggle-borns. "But the thing is, he shouldn't have teh! He needs someone looking out for 'im."

"And why should I be the one to look out for him?"

"Because you both have summat in common."

"Oh? And what might that be? Do enlighten me."

"Yeh both want to die."

"I hardly think being prepared to die for the cause is the same as being suicidal," said Severus.

"What would yeh call it then? 'Arry tried to drown hisself in the lake!"

"What? You mean today?"

"Yes, today. Look after him, Professor. He needs it. And so do you."

TBC