Saving Grace
by
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Hagrid
Word Count: 800
Disclaimer: All the characters are Rowling's. All the smutty scenarios are mine.
Summary: Post-war. A late night visitor to the Headmaster's tomb on a blustery night attracts attention...
Warnings: highlight between brackets if you prefer story warnings: [contains: aborted suicide, angst, h/c]
The pain was nearly gone now and he'd finally stopped shivering.
The initial pain had been bad, but he'd suffered worse before - much, much worse.
He noted his bluish-white hands still clutched at the stone, but he could not think why now. He decided it didn't matter and wondered if he should close his eyes. Sleep sounded very, very good.
Then the voice came, and it sounded familiar but he could not be arsed to care. With the voice came a corresponding smell.
The smell was familiar, as well, and it spoke of home. This was strange in itself since he had no home, per se, and yet the rich, earthy scent lulled him into a contented daze. This was good. It was a good dream to be having.
"C'mon then, Severus. Up wit' you."
Strong hands and the smell grew stronger and he let himself be lifted from the cold hard surface and into warmth so pervasive he clung to it. Maybe it would stay this time. He'd never been so warm nor felt so protected, so content.
Sleep became infinitely more attractive - deep, abiding sleep.
He dreamt of pumpkins and hippogriffs, ghosts and stone walls, and of traversing the Black Lake on a boat.
The next day he groaned to life and was greeted with the confusing smell of fried sausage and almost lethally strong tea. Not only that, but he was warm.
"Jus' abou' time ya woke up."
Severus froze.
"If'n yer going ter sick up, I'll get yer a bucket."
He shook his head, despite it increasing his headache, and merely clenched his back teeth with a fierce grimace.
"If'n ya wan' one o' yer potions, yer outta luck. Yer not gettin' yer cloak back 'cept by owl after ya leave."
He cleared his throat and fought the raspiness of his throat to speak.
"You'll let me leave?"
Hagrid finally looked away.
"Not my place to be holdin' ya. The Ministry's busy enough. I reckon yer harmless enough."
Snape snorted, turning his head away. "Harmless."
"I don' reckon a man who was really guilty o' murder woul' visit the grave o' the man he's killed, drunk as a lord and cryin' so 't would break yer heart to see."
Severus drew in a sharp breath and Rubeus turned to look at him now.
"An' not when it's so cold ou' tha' he'd freeze hissel' solid to the tomb. Nope. No' after we've won the war an' tha' man had a lo' to do wi' tha' win. No, sir." He looked positively grim. "Tha's why yer not gettin' yer cloak back 'cept by owl. Yer wand... well, I'll have ter think on tha', won' I?"
"Hagrid."
"In the meantime, yer can eat. Ya look like a twig. Fixin' to starve yerself, firs'?"
Severus pursed his lips, but said nothing.
"Only thing I canno' figure is why, Severus? If'n yer no' guilty an' I believe the Headmistress on tha', then why would ya try to kill yerself?"
"Hagrid."
"Tha's the firs' time you saw his tomb, weren' it?"
Severus sighed and nodded. "I... I couldn't be there. For the... service."
"The funeral, you mean."
Snape shuddered, clenching his suddenly cold hands into fists. His voice was tight.
"I think I should go."
"I think yer should stop pretendin' yer made o' stone. Ain't no shame in tears. Dumbledore taugh' me tha'. Great man he was. Great man."
Severus swallowed thickly.
"Yes."
"Tomorrow is Dumbledore's birthday, innit?"
Snape drew in a startled breath, felt his eyes flood with sudden tears. Hagrid merely nodded.
"Though' so."
Severus cleared his throat.
"I... I thought..."
"Strange gif' tha'. I don' think Dumbledore'd be wantin' yer death. After all, he gave his life fer ya, din' he?"
Despite himself, a broken sob escaped him at this, and Severus turned away now, burying his face in his hands.
Hagrid did not bother unfolding him. He gathered him up like a child and rocked him on his lap, releasing a great gusty sigh that blew warmth along that pale, trembling back. He rubbed one massive hand along it and felt the shudders running through it.
"Yer cold as ice, Severus. Blimey! No wonder yer shaking. You'll jus' have to stay righ' there 'til yer all warmed up."
The sounds of wrenching grief filled the cabin and Hagrid held his burden a bit closer.
"We'll get yer all warmed an' fed an' ever'thin' will be better, you'll see. Ever'thin' will be righ' as rain."
His hands did not stop rubbing warmth into the fragile-seeming body he held.
~ ~ ~
Severus did not know how long he'd been clutching at Hagrid, but it did not really matter.
The pain was nearly gone now and he'd finally stopped shivering.
He was warm... and he was finally back home.
~ FIN ~
Posted: 6 Dec 2006