indiscretus:

~

Harry grit his teeth- suddenly feeling a foolish for feeling even a little bit bad for Snape- though he couldn’t even feel settled in that because of the strangely serene tone the man used when he spoke. Just how many potions is he on right now?

“You’re wrong.” He probably won’t even remember this conversation, anyway- hopefully he won’t. “You’re one of my least favourite people, sure, but honestly I’d rather not have your death on my conscience, too- and no, the world doesn’t revolve around me, but one way or another everyone who’s died so far this time has been my fault, so it’s fair to assume you dying would be on me, too.” The git would probably come back as a ghost, just to blame me, anyway, whether I actually had anything to do with it or not. 

“I’m not here to smother you. Not everyone has the moral compass of a Death Eater.” He glanced over the man, as if searching for any sign of the blood that had coated him earlier. “I want to know what happened, and unfortunately right now you’re the only person who might tell me.” With how many potions you’re on there might just actually be hope.

“There will be three people at fault for my death,” Severus remarked softly, “Not a one of which would be you. Perish the notion immediately. How I live and how I die will never be about you and to think otherwise is not only arrogant, it is damaging. You’ve enough on your plate without absorbing guilt for crimes that have absolutely nothing to do with you.” 

Severus fell silent then, eying the boy bleakly and saying absolutely nothing to his remark on moral compasses. Even this addled by potion and magic he knew better than to open his mouth on that particular topic.

When the boy continued though, Severus’ brows rose considerably, before a laugh shocked its way out of him and he winced in its wake, his bandaged hand raising to clutch at the blanket, where beneath his lacerations ached from the muscular stress caused by the action of his amusement.

“Why Potter,” He breathed, eyes closed against the pain not even his own potions could fully overcome, “How positively Slytherin of you.” Slowly, the sting dulled to a minor ache, and he breathed easier, slowly opening his eyes to pierce the boy with his gaze, “If I didn’t know better, I would think the Dark Lord had put you up to it. Taking advantage of someone while they labor under mind altering medicinal potions is precisely the sort of thing he would do.” 

Looking away, Severus wondered vaguely where Poppy had gone before remarking simply, “I displeased him. That is all you need, or would care, to know.”

indiscretus:

@severelysnapped​ | cont.

Harry eyed the man laying in the hospital wing bed, trying not to think that he looked frail, layered in bandaged and disturbingly lacking in his usual sneer. He couldn’t help but wonder what the man had looked like before he’d been able to get in- though he was quite sure he didn’t want to know. “Because one way or another- no matter which side it turns out you’re on- it’s going to end up a new way to make my life more difficult.” 

If Snape was on their side, then he’d probably end up dead, leaving behind a mess of difficulties that Harry would be expected to solve, and if he wasn’t, then he’d likely get at least one person killed, and Harry couldn’t survive losing anyone else. And though he wouldn’t admit it- the brief glimpse he’d caught of Snape being brought into the castle had rattled him. There had been so much blood… he’d thought the man was dead, for sure.

“No one let me in. I just strutted in like I own the place,” he quipped sarcastically, when asked how he’d gotten here- although it was technically almost true, he had simply walked in, and no one had stopped him.

Severus huffed a little at that – were he capable of it, he’d have been furious, but as it was even the mild ire he did manage at such a self-centered reply was waved away with a mild smile. “As obligated as I am to point out the world doesn’t revolve around you,” His tone lacked the venom those words typically came with, sounding no more objectionable than a comment on simple fact ( the sky is rather blue today ) and maintained the same level of calm dismissiveness as he concluded, “You are right in that my death would have an immediate impact on your life, if only in that it would seem infinitely better without me in it up until Dumbledore picks someone you actually care about to serve as his inside man.” 

There was absolutely no malice in his words – Severus had known from day one that he was disposable to Dumbledore. Sixteen years in the man’s service had done absolutely nothing to change that, and the efforts Severus had put forth to keep Harry at bay had ensured the boy would rejoice at his death as surely as James and Sirius might have had they lived to observe it. ( Remus might well pour out a toast in good riddance, but he at least would have the decency not to gloat about it. ) 

“Of course you did,” Severus snorted, because sarcastic as Potter’s reply had been it was undeniably accurate as well. “Any particular reason? You’ll need to wait at least two hours before the potions will pull me under if your hope is to smother me,” He remarked cheerfully, rather hoping that Potter might. Heaven knew it would be a better fate than what he was currently bound to.