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“I don’t understand why you’re spending so much time in the Hospital Wing,” Ron admitted, running a hand through his red hair. It was longer than it had ever been, but Ron didn’t seem too intent on having it cut, no matter the comments Mrs Weasley had been making. “I get that he wasn’t all bad, but…”
“He’s a hero,” Harry replied quietly, curling himself up in the armchair he’d claimed when he’d returned to the common room.
“He’s an arsehole,” Ron said, shrugging.
Hermione touched his hand gently, a silent warning. They communicated silently a lot these days, and while Harry was more than happy for them, that they’d finally realised what everyone else had known for years, it made him ache in a strange way.
“It doesn’t matter what he is,” he said, eventually. “I need to know that he’s okay.”
“We understand—” Hermone began, only for Ron to interrupt her with an inaudible grumble. She scowled at him. “We understand that this is important to you, Harry. We just want to understand why. Madam Pomfrey said she expects he’ll make a full recovery. Isn’t that enough?”
“I know she said that. And I’m sure she’s right,” Harry muttered. He stared at the unlit fire grate. “But I still need to… see it for myself.”
“Why though?” Ron asked. “I don’t get it. He literally treated you like shit for years, Harry, and—”
“He’s my soulmate. I spend so much time in the Hospital Wing because he heals faster when I’m there,” Harry said, interrupting his friend. “And I know that he’s been awful to us, and I know that I shouldn’t feel like I owe him anything, but he’s my soulmate and I… I have to.”
“You… why didn’t you tell us?” Hermione asked, and she sounded a little hurt.
“I didn’t know,” Harry replied. “Really, I didn’t. I hadn’t heard of soulmates being a legitimate thing until she told me a few days ago, and she only knew because of the healing.”
“You haven’t been feeling a pull to him?” Ron asked, his anger seemingly forgotten, or at least diminished.
“I guess I was, but I thought it was just guilt,” Harry admitted. He shook his head. “It’s not going to matter. Soulbond or not, he’s never going to want anything to do with me.”
“You don’t know that,” Hermione replied, though she looked doubtful of her own words.
Ron shook his head firmly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I bet he’ll be over the moon. People—especially older people—take soulbonds really seriously, mate. Just wait til he wakes up. You might even see the bat smile. Ain’t that a scary thought.”
Harry snorted, and then laughed, because in truth, he hadn’t told Ron and Hermione straight away for fear of their reaction. Of Ron’s reaction. Not that he planned to tell them that, of course.
Ron checked his watch. “Shall we nip down to the kitchens and get some food. It’s almost dinnertime.”
Hermione snorted, but Harry dipped his head. With the rebuild still in full force, the Great Hall wasn’t being used for mealtimes as stringently as it was at any other time. Also, the lack of students meant that it would likely just be wasteful to use the house tables.
And, well. If they ate early… he would be able to spend longer in the Hospital Wing.
…
Harry woke up with a stiff neck and a sore back. The Hospital Wing chairs were not the most comfortable things to sleep in. Glancing at the bed, he was surprised to see Snape was looking at him, a small frown on his face.
“I thought you were dead,” he rasped out. “You… you had to die.”
“I did,” Harry assured him softly. “He’s gone. Dead for good this time. We did it.”
“How?”
“It’s a long story,” Harry murmured. “When you’re better, if you still want to hear it, I’ll explain everything.”
Snape nodded, and then winced.
“Do you want me to call Madam Pomfrey?” Harry offered. “Do you need a pain potion?”
“No.” He glanced down at where Harry was holding his hand and his frown deepened. “You’re… soulmates?”
Harry inclined his head. “I know it’s probably not what you want, or were expecting, but… the physical contact has been helping you heal.”
“We are… soulmates. You and I?”
“We are.”
Snape stared at him for a long moment, and then, he gave Harry a faint smile as his eyes closed and he drifted back off to sleep.
…
Harry was helping rebuild one of the outer walls when a robin patronus flew towards him. He paused, tilting his head slightly until the patronus sounded with Madam Pomfrey’s voice, asking him to attend the Hospital Wing as soon as he could.
She sounded worried, and Harry felt panic spike in his chest. He turned to tell Ron where he was going to see his friend was already waving his hands at him to go, and Harry broke into a run, racing up the stairs to the fourth floor.
He burst into the Hospital Wing to see Madam Pomfrey practically wrestling with Snape to keep him in the bed, and the thrashing man was bleeding from the wound on his neck. Harry moved closer to help her settle him, but as soon as Snape caught sight of Harry, he froze.
“You’re alive,” he choked out, and surprising both Harry and Poppy, tears began streaming down his face. “You’re alive.”
Harry nodded, gentling his hands as he pressed a medical pad to the neck wound with one hand, and wiped the tears away with the other.
“I told you last night,” he reminded Snape.
“I… dream,” Snape said. “I thought… I thought it was a dream.”
“No, I’m still here. I’ll be around to annoy you for decades yet,” Harry murmured, trying to ignore the burn in his own eyes.
“Move your hand, sweetheart,” Madam Pomfrey murmured, and Harry pulled the pad away so she could close the wound with magic. She used a gentle cleansing spell to get rid of the blood, and when she moved, Harry perched himself on the edge of the bed, holding Snape’s hand.
Snape stared at him like he was a miracle, like he was someone to worship, someone to adore. Harry wondered if the look was reflected in his own eyes.
“You’re going to be okay,” he murmured, stroking the back of Snape’s hand with his thumb. “You’re getting better every day.”
“How are you… here?” Snape asked.
Harry considered telling him that he would tell him when he was better, the way he’d done the night before, but he thought—he hoped—that if he explained, that Snape might retain the knowledge that he was alive, and they could forgo a repeat performance of him hurting himself.
So he told him. He told him about the forest, about the killing curse, about Narcissa. He told him about the Great Hall and then of returning to the Shack to collect Snape’s body, only to find him clinging to life by the thinnest of strings.
He hadn't told anyone the whole story before.
“You truly died to save the world,” Snape murmured, when he was done. “That’s not allowed anymore. No more self-sacrificing.”
Harry chuckled. “You’re one to talk.”
“For either of us,” Snape clarified. “No more dying.”
Harry smiled. “No more dying.”
…
Rebuilding the castle had been hard, but worthwhile. By the time Snape—Severus now, Harry reminded himself—was able to walk enough to be released from the Hospital Wing, the castle was mostly whole once more. They were on track to reopen the gates on the first of September for the new school year.
Harry sat on the steps leading up to the main doors, enjoying the last days of summer. It would start going colder soon, he knew, and he’d spent entirely too much of the summer indoors, rebuilding or sitting with Snape, helping him heal and… and getting to know his soulmate.
“Alright, mate?” Ron asked, sitting down beside him. Hermione went down a couple of extra steps and perched in front of them.
“I’m good,” Harry replied, smiling. “Really good.”
Ron grinned. “You’re getting happier every day. It’s nice to see.”
“Can you believe we’re going to be students again?” Hermione asked, looking up at the castle, one hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun. “It seems… really weird, after the year we’ve had.”
“I know,” Harry agreed.
“Are you and Snape going to be okay, him being the Headmaster and all?” Ron asked, wrinkling his nose. “And please, spare me any details of your definition of ‘okay’.”
Harry snorted. “We’ll be fine. He’s not going to be my direct teacher for anything, and I’m of age. Besides, I spoke to Kingsley about it, and he said soulbond trumps… pretty much everything else, so.”
Ron nodded. “Cool.”
They sat in silence for a while, and then Ron stretched. “It’s food time.”
“You always think it’s food time,” Hermione quipped, laughing. “But you’re right, it’s almost dinner time. Shall we go out? It’s been a while since we left the castle.”
“You two go,” Harry said, smiling at them. “Go and be couply and do lovey-dovey things.”
“Harry—”
“You can—”
“Go be a couple,” Harry encouraged. “Really.”
“Mr Potter has dining plans already,” said a voice behind them. Ron and Hermione looked back to see Severus behind them, but Harry just smiled, leaning back against strong legs as hands came to rest on his shoulders. “The two of you should enjoy the time out of the castle before term begins.”
They checked with Harry one more time before they stood, making their way across the lawn, their hands joined together.
Harry smiled as he watched them go, and then peered up at his soulmate. “I have dining plans?”
“You do,” Severus replied, holding out a hand to help Harry up. “I booked us a table at seven.”
Checking his watch, Harry’s smile widened. “And you even came to tell me in enough time for me to get ready. So thoughtful.”
Severus rolled his eyes and then leant down to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Go, heathen. Shower and wear something that isn’t so…. Gaudily Gryffindorish.”
Harry glanced down at the old Quidditch shirt he was wearing and chuckled. “Okay, sir, I can do that.”
As he walked away, he looked back to see Severus watching him, a faint smile on his face. It was going to be a good night.