At last, my first Snarry fic! I have been meaning to write this for months! (It is also my first fic that isn't humour 24/7 – although there is a lot of humour because I can't help myself).
It is an idea I got stuck in my head whilst on holiday with my Editor, this was at Easter! Anyway this is a Snarry fic so if you are deprived and do not like this pairing I think you need to go read something else. Flames will be used to roast Ginny on a spit (if you like Ginny as well as Snarry don't worry I will not be bashing her in this fic).
Despite the fact it is now summer this fic is set in the winter holidays, so there is a lot of snow.
Disclaimer: Sadly none of these characters belong to me – my lawyers are currently working on it. But the place Harry stays in and the area this place is set is where I live so no one can ask me where I came up with the place names – it was a drunk Frenchman, not me.
Summary: After the war Hermione decides that Harry needs a holiday; he has killed Voldermort and is on the point of breakdown, so she sends him to France for a skiing holiday. Who should Harry find there but Snape? What happened to him when he disappeared after he had killed Dumbledore?
SS/HP Snarry, what ever you want to call it.
"Harry, come out of your room."
There was a pause as Hermione sighed and mentally berated herself for letting Harry get like this.
He had been like it ever since that day- it seemed like a lifetime ago but in reality it had been only two months.
"Harry, you can't stay locked in there forever."
"Try me," came the whisper of a reply.
"Harry, you can't beat yourself up about it,"
Harry burst out of the room for the first time since he had entered 2 months before.
"Beat myself up about it?! Why would I want to do that, they died first time round because of me and then I killed them all, every single one! I had to kill them Hermione! And all those other people – I don't even deserve to call myself a person!" Harry shrieked all of this, spitting in Hermione's face; he then turned and stomped back towards his room.
Hermione had seen enough when Harry had burst out the room- she had had doubts it was Harry. He had only been wearing his shorts, his skin was taught stretched over bones: he obviously hadn't been eating. His ribs were prominent next to his ghostly white skin, the only marks breaking the transparent colour were the scars he had acquired in the last battle. All of the blood that had been spattered on his body had been left to dry, and was flaking on his skin. The cuts from which the blood had spurted were clotted over, but most of them were infected and some of them had turned a nasty green. His nails had been overgrown and yellow, and he had reeked of a mixture of dead hope and rotting will. The worst had been Harry's face; wild facial hair surrounded his chapped lips covering yellowing teeth. The bags in his deathly sunken mask of a face had been bright black against his skin, under bloodshot eyes with small mad pupils.
The worst part was that the spark had gone from Harry's eyes: they were eyes of a dead man. What made it so bad was that Hermione wasn't sure if she could get Harry back now that… that had happened…
"Harry, you need to sort out your life, come out of that room! Hiding in Grimauld place will do you no good. It isn't helping the rest of the world either. I know that I can't even begin to imagine the feeling of what it must be like for…but Harry you can't cry forever. You are not the only one that's hurting!"
If only we could break in, thought Hermione, but Harry had become a powerful wizard and no one could get past his wards.
Hermione left Harry's door, it was late and she needed rest. Tomorrow she would come back and plead with Harry, like she had done almost every day since the last battle.
"Harry, get your fucking ass out of that room!"
"Ron! That's hardly going to get him to come out,"
"You were the one who asked for my help!"
"I didn't get you all the way over here to insult him!"
Harry heard his friends arguing as he leant his ear against the door.
He was tearing other people up staying in here; he couldn't rip other people to pieces because he couldn't face anything anymore.
Yesterday, when he had stormed out the room and had seen himself reflected in Hermione's eyes, he almost didn't recognise himself. The look of fear in Hermione's eyes when he had screamed at her… it had almost made him burst into tears. He had never seen her look so scared.
Harry picked up his clothes and strode out the room.
He could only describe the look on Hermione and Ron's faces as completely dumbfounded.
"I'm going for a shower," Harry stated and strode down the corridor, leaving them to gape at his back.
"Ron, keep Harry preoccupied, try and get him back to a normal routine, and make sure he eats a proper meal. Squid knows he needs it!"
(Editor- Jiggy has a theory that the giant squid is God. No, I don't get it either.)
"And what are you going to do while I am trying to figure our how to work that contraption Muggles call a stove?"
"He needs a holiday on his own; he needs time away from here, with no one to remind him of what has happened. I am going to try and involve as little magic as possible so he just has time to calm down and have some fun. He needs it."
This is how Harry ended up sitting in a waiting room at an airport, having been waved off by an 'all smiles' Hermione and a very confused Ron – 'Hermione, how did all those men fit in that screen? Maybe Muggles' are clever…but not very nice."
He didn't see why Hermione insisted he flew the Muggle way; all she would tell him was that it would be a good 'Cultural experience'.
It was the first time Harry had been in an airport, but he had checked in his bags without that much drama, and now he was sitting in between a very fat old wrinkly woman who kept dropping her glasses and making Harry get up to look for them under her seat, and a very heavy smoker who was trying to overdose on Nicotine before he was deprived of it for one and a half hours.
Harry choked as the Muggle man turned to him and blew a smoke ring at him, "You're a pretty lad aren't you, want me to get you something?" he slurred at Harry in what was supposed to have been a sexy voice.
Harry knew that he wasn't interested in women, but he had thought that not many people swung his way. Nevertheless this man smoked more than a chimney, and seemed a bit…
Harry quickly stood up and switched to a seat across the room and was now stuck in between a scary teenager who was dressed like Judgment day had come early with more piercings than Harry could count, and a very stereotypical American who kept asking Harry to take pictures of him and his wife.
He couldn't win could he – and he thought he had escaped hell…
Just a quick A/N it is not necessary to read this bit, you can start again where I leave my next note, it is just a little intro (Editor – but it is funny, so I advise you read it.)
"Hello, and welcome to Easy Jet 438 to Geneva. If you're going to Geneva, you're in the right place. If you're not going to Geneva, you're about to have a really long evening."
"We'd like to tell you now about some important safety features of this aircraft. The most important safety feature we have aboard this plane is...The Flight Attendants. Please look at one now."
"There are 5 exits aboard this plane: 2 at the front, 2 over the wings, and one out the plane's rear end. If you're seated in one of the exit rows, please do not store your bags by your feet. That would be a really bad idea. Please take a moment and look around and find the nearest exit. Count the rows of seats between you and the exit. In the event that the need arises to find one, trust me, you'll be glad you did."
"We have pretty blinking lights on the floor that will blink in the direction of the exits. White ones along the normal rows, and pretty red ones at the exit rows."
"In the event of a loss of cabin pressure these baggy things will drop down over your head. You stick it over your nose and mouth like the flight attendant is doing now. The bag won't inflate, but there's oxygen there, promise. If you are sitting next to a small child, or someone who is acting like a small child, please do us all a favour and put on your mask first. If you are travelling with two or more children, please take a moment now to decide which one is your favourite. Help that one first, and then work your way down."
"In the seat pocket in front of you is a pamphlet about the safety features of this plane. I usually use it as a fan when I'm having my own personal summer. It makes a very good fan. It also has pretty pictures. Please take it out and play with it now."
"Please take a moment now to make sure your seat belts are fastened low and tight about your waist. To fasten the belt, insert the metal tab into the buckle. To release, it's a pulley thing -- not a pushy thing like your car because you're in an airplane."
"There is no smoking in the cabin on this flight. There is also no smoking in the lavatories. If we see smoke coming from the lavatories, we will assume you are on fire and put you out. This is a free service we provide – despite the fact we are underpaid. There are two smoking sections on this flight, one outside each wing exit."
"We do have a movie in the smoking sections tonight... 'Gone with the Wind."
"In a moment we will be turning off the cabin lights, and it's going to get really dark, really fast. If you're afraid of the dark, now would be a good time to reach up and press the yellow button. The yellow button turns on your reading light. Please don't press the orange button unless you absolutely have to. The orange button is your seat ejection button."
"We're glad to have you with us on board this flight. Thank you for choosing Easy Jet, and giving us your business and your money. If there's anything we can do to make you more comfortable, please don't hesitate to ask."
"We hope that you have a pleasant flight, we will now be taking off."
Start again here
Harry wondered who hired these kinds of people when the plane started moving. It jolted and Harry almost hit the front of the seat. He gripped the seat so hard his knuckles turned white. The plane began to pick up speed as it sped down the airway, and Harry almost screamed in terror. They were all going to crash, die and burn – he knew it! Then the plane tilted and Harry let out a squeak, but no more than that as he had almost bitten off his own tongue to stop it. There was a purring noise coming from the plane.
"Is it supposed to do that?" whispered Harry leaning over to the person sitting next to him.
The girl looked up from her sketch book and smiled at him, "Not been on a plane before?" she asked. Harry shook his head.
"Don't worry, it's been a smooth flight so far, and the weather is great for flying. There shouldn't be any turbulence." She smiled again and went back to sketching her landscape. Her friend sitting next to her looked up, and smiled at Harry reassuringly,
"Don't worry, I don't like it either." She smiled again and went back to her sketchbook.
Only when the plane started whirring did Harry begin to doubt the first woman's words.
A few hours later. Having survived the plane Harry was sitting in the back of the taxi away to a destination that Hermione had failed to tell him, and he couldn't pronounce it reading it off the travel card. The taxi had been swerving around the road for a while now, and Harry had begun to wonder what the taxi driver had been drinking when the taxi stopped.
"We are here," said the taxi driver, turning round and grinning broadly at Harry.
"Thanks," said Harry breathlessly, wondering how many more deathly vehicles he would have to travel on before he reached his destination.
As Harry got out the taxi to get his bags out of the boot he grumbled about how he had never had time to pass his apparition test.
The second Harry had closed the boot, the wheels whirred on the cab and kicked up loads of snow, covering Harry, and drove off into the night.
Harry looked around to try and figure out where he was. He was standing next to a bunch of apartments with a placard outside telling him he was at A block. Harry recalled Hermione saying something about 3A, so he picked up his bags and dragged them up the icy steps.
The door immediately in front of him was marked 3. Harry assumed and hoped that this apartment was the right one.
He got out his wand, looked around to check there were no Muggles and whispered 'Alohamora'.
He entered, slammed the door, and ran straight down the short corridor that faced him. In this room he saw a small kitchen area attached to a living room in which there were two red soft sofas. Harry immediately flopped onto one of these and closed his eyes.
It hadn't been a bad day. True, when the plane was coming into land he had thought that they were crashing and screamed, causing the surrounding people to stare at him and the girl next to him to jump into the arms of her friend, but it hadn't been too bad.
He was asleep within seconds.
When Harry woke up he had a massive crick in his neck from sleeping like a monkey (i.e. upside down), and his eyes were all clogged up with sleep. He got up and looked in all the cupboards, which only took him about 3 seconds as the kitchen was a poor excuse for a cooking area – it couldn't have been much bigger than his cupboard at the Dursley's.
He was starving and had seen nothing in the cupboards. He wondered what he could do for food as he didn't know what time the shop opened, but was sure that it wouldn't be open at this time in the morning (6:00).
He then thought he could transfigure something he didn't need into food; he searched the rest of the apartment and found: a bathroom smaller than the kitchen, one bedroom just big enough to fit in a double bed with just enough space to walk around and one room which was the size of a child's wardrobe, and this room seemed to fill no purpose at all.)
There was nothing he could transfigure! The flat had been stripped to a bare minimum, there wasn't even toilet roll! (Which at that point for Harry was quite unfortunate.) All there was in the apartment were the two sofas, the empty cupboards and the bed – the bed didn't even have sheets!
He quickly changed into his ski gear (which Hermione had also had the courtesy to get).
Harry thanked his Muggle upbringing as he took the money out of his coat, which he had withdrawn from an account Hermione had set up for him. If he hadn't had uncle Vernon he would have never had been able to work that cash machine, it was confusing enough even for a Muggle.
He avoiding looking at his reflection in the mirror, stuffed the money in his pocket and left the apartment.
Harry was just thinking about how dramatic and impressive he was when he slipped on the icy steps and fell down them. (There were only three - so no need to worry)
He looked up and there standing before him was the girl he had seen yesterday on the plane. She was wearing a bright red outfit with the letters 'ESF' printed on it in large white letters, and her friend was in tow. Her friend appeared to have a problem with the cold since she had obviously pulled on all the clothes she owned and she appeared to have grown to two times her original size since yesterday.
The woman in the red two piece held out her hand to Harry, "You should watch where you're going around here, it gets slippy with all the ice and the guy we pay to clear it all is off sick," Harry stared at her grinning face for a second then took her hand and hauled himself up.
"I take it you are new here, only the new people fall on those steps,"
Harry now felt like an idiot for his ignorance and inability to stay upright.
"If you're new I can show you round a bit," the other girl offered.
"I would come," said the first girl, "but I have to get ready for my first lesson." and with that she speed off up the steps Harry had come down so gracefully a few minutes before. Harry noted with much envy that she didn't even stumble despite the fact she was wearing ski boots.
"Come on," continued the other girl, "You look half starved. I can get you into the bakery before it opens, so you miss the morning rush." With that she set off at a quick trot with Harry in her wake.
However she soon stopped with a look that to some may be described as terror. Harry looked down and adopted a similar expression – more stairs.
Ten minutes later Harry and the girl were down at the bakery. They both had very sore bums, having had to climb down one more set of stairs (Harry was sure they coulnd't have been wider than his arms width) and a very steep slope. Occasionally when they slipped they had grabbed onto the other and pulled the other down with them.
But now they were there at the bakery- albeit a bit battered but there.
The girl knocked on the shop door.
"Morning Tin-Tin," (pronounced Tan Tan) she shouted.
Harry heard some scuffling and a loud crash. He saw a human figure appear behind the blurred glass; said figure threw the door open and beamed broadly at them.
He was a large man, his mass protruding slightly unnaturally both up and out. His small black matt of hair was flecked with grey. He wore large glasses which rested on his lumpy nose and bristly moustache covering his eyes that danced with excitement in the morning light.
"Bonjour!" he gushed, still grinning like a loon. He swooped down on Harry's companion to kiss her once on each cheek.
"And ou is your friend?" he continued in a French accent so thick it was almost indistinguishable.
It was then Harry realised that he and his companion had never exchanged a proper swap-names greeting as the circumstance in which she had found him had been slightly odd.
There was a slight pause.
"Bonjour, je m'appelle Harry," said Harry in a rush, using just about all the French he actually knew.
"Bonjour Arry! It iz luvle to av you er."
Harry was having slight problems deducing what the man was saying, but figured he couldn't go wrong with smiling at the man so he did.
This caused the man to let out a large booming laugh for reasons Harry couldn't quite fathom, and ushered them inside.
Harry was rushed past a counter and pushed gently but firmly into a chair.
Now he had a good time to look around, the room was a very light wood, but the floor had been tiled pale cream and the curtains had a blue check material which Harry had never seen before. There were abstract paintings of the overlook of the valley painted from what looked like the window Harry was currently sitting next to, but a few of the art pieces on the walls had obviously been cooked. There was one especially large piece which had been made out of specially coloured chocolates; it depicted a life size image of Tin-Tin.
"Vous pouvez gouter un si vous vouliez" said Tin-Tin, seeing Harry looking.
It took a few seconds for Harry to answer as he was trying to decipher the words through the strong accent.
"I couldn't, it looks so lovely and it must have taken so much work."
Tin-Tin did obviously not comprehend what Harry had said, but plucked a white chocolate on the front of his sugar self and handed it to Harry. He then laughed and began talking in fast fluent French to Harry's companion.
Harry put the chocolate in his mouth; it melted instantly on his tongue, thick and creamy.
The chair next to him was pulled out and the girl who had got Harry in sat down with him.
"I'm Hermione by the way," she smiled, "I'm sorry I forgot to mention my name." Her cheeks coloured a little as she smiled at Harry.
Harry found it rather odd that no matter where he was, a Hermione somehow managed to help him in one way or another.
"Why did he let us in?" asked Harry.
"I work here, and he's an old friend of my friend," she smiled again, "I've asked him to get you breakfast before the day starts, you look half starved,"
"He doesn't have to…" started Harry but the other girl cut him off.
"Of course he does silly, he is ever so friendly and open to new people. If you had come with me this early and then paid he would have been kind of insulted… don't ask me why but he likes to be friendly."
"Oh, thank you very much," said Harry.
"I take it you've never skied before."
"How did you guess?"
"You have your thermals on backwards," she said, giggling a bit.
Harry would have felt foolish had a plate with two hot croissants and a dish of butter not been plonked down in front of him. He thanked Tin-Tin and tucked in.
"We are in the apartment next to yours, drop by some time," Hermione got up, "I have to go and serve now, when you're done just take your plate through the door and put it on the counter. Then you might want to hire some skis- go round the corner from here, and the ski shop is right there. Bye!" she waved and dashed off to serve the already waiting customers.
Harry wondered why he had let Hermione (the magic one) bully him into a holiday, by himself, in a Muggle area. He had managed to get on the chairlift with out killing anyone, and was now wondering how he was supposed to get off again.
He had gone to the ski hire just round the corner as Hermione (the Muggle one) had instructed. He had hired a pair of beginner's skis and tried on numerous amounts of boots. He had heard that ski boots were supposed to be tight, but he hadn't realised they were supposed to cut off one's blood circulation. The man in the shop had been very nice and had given him set of boots after more sets of boots; Harry had felt like he was back in Olivander's for the first time.
He had gone and bought a ski pass for the whole mountain (just in case) and had wondered how he was actually supposed to ski.
He had then seen a large building with the letters 'ESF' in large white block letters stationed over the entrance. For some reason the letters 'ESF' had rung a bell so he had entered and immediately bumped into Hermione's friend.
"Hello, sorry, got to dash, my class is waiting," and with that she had run out the door through which Harry had just entered.
He had gone to a desk, and thankfully the woman behind the desk was an English one in France to improve her French. Harry had asked where he was and she had explained that 'ESF' stood for something Harry now couldn't remember exactly but it had been the ski school.
He momentarily was impressed that the girl was a ski instructor, but had not thought about it too long as the cashier was staring at him rather strangely, so he had booked a lesson for that afternoon, and for every afternoon for the rest of that week.
He had wondered what to do with himself then, so he decided to try his hand at skiing and had got on the chairlift on which all the beginners seemed to be riding.
And that was how Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, ended up on a chair lift wondering how he was going to get off again, and now suddenly noticing how high up he had gone.
He saw a blue sign with some white blobs on. He was wondering what the significance of these blobs was, when he realised that he sign depicted a man lifting up the bar on the chair lift.
Harry panicked, he was still metres from the get off point!!
He nervously and very half heartedly lifted up the bar; his skis almost instantly hit solid snow. Harry wondered what he was supposed to do now.
There was a man sitting in a hut shouting at him in French, but Harry didn't have a clue what he was saying so ignored him.
The man began to turn purple. Harry still ignored him.
Then the man brought his hand down and slammed a large red button, causing the lift to stop very suddenly. The lift had been going quite fast till that time and Harry fell forward off the chair.
He tried to get up, but couldn't the skis were infuriatingly big and getting in the way.
The man who had previously been screaming hysterically at Harry, now walked over and pulled back his foot as if he was going to kick Harry.
Harry shuffled away ready for the blow, but it never came, one of his feet merely jerked as if someone had hit his ski.
He looked down and saw that the man had taken his ski off for him.
Harry grinned at the man and thanked him. The man looked at him, puzzled, and walked away. Only then did Harry realise he had spoken in English.
He mentally slapped himself for being such a fool.
The chair lift which he had just fell off begun to move again, and Harry got up on his one foot and did his best to run away, which is quite hard with one ski on and only a boot on the other.
He immediately lost his balance and fell again as soon as he was out of the way of the chair lift.
This was not going to be easy.
A few minutes later Harry was standing at the top of the slope out of the two which seemed less steep, although to Harry they both seemed to be verging on vertical. Harry used his pole to push off from the slope. He slowly began to descend, knees pulled together like they were tied with chains, the rest of him shaking all over. He thought it was quite a pleasant feeling to glide. That was until gravity was included in the equation; he began to pick up speed. The more speed he picked up the more he panicked.
What shall I do? he thought. How do I turn? What do I do to stop myself? Do I need to fall over? Am I going to be in one piece when I get to the bottom?
All these questions flashed in Harry's mind as he sped down the slope.
Harry saw a corner coming at, what appeared to him to be very great speed.
He saw no other option.
He threw himself over sideways.
The cold snow covered him, got down his neck, down his trousers, up his back, in his hair, behind his glasses- to be honest there wasn't a place what snow hadn't got.
He heard a loud cackle above him.
There was a snowboarder sitting a few metres above Harry. The snowboarder had black sallopettes on (A/N for those who don't know sallopettes is a fancy word for ski trousers) which he was wearing as hipsters. You could see a bit of fresh white stomach in between his sallopettes and the black tank top he was wearing and despite the cold he wasn't wearing anything else except a hair tie, keeping most of his sleek black shiny hair out of his eyes, and a pair of glasses which were also black and glinted green when they caught the sun. Harry thought that the snowboarder would have been extremely attractive had he not been laughing (in a mean way) at Harry's misfortune.
Then Harry a good look at the nose on which the sunglasses rested. He couldn't mistake that hooked nose anywhere.
It was Severus Snape.
Hope you liked it! Make sure that you review, because otherwise I feel unloved and I don't post as fast, not because I don't want to, more because I feel a bit like a loser and don't know what people think of my work – therefore I don't know if it worth posting. And your opinions matter to me, I cherish them like my 60's hat and my rope (for tying people up), that means they matter a lot.
:D Jiggy :D Oh yes, and thanks to Hermione for being a great editor!
Editor (and now translator)'s Note: The French further up means "You can try one if you want", just in case you were stuck.