AN: This story is a project that I have been working on with Vodoodollz for some time now. It contains trans-gender themes, a slowly-built Harry/Severus relationship (Harry will be a woman by the time he and Severus end up together). This is the journey Harry takes to give himself a normal life. This is rated M for future chapters and themes. Please read with caution. If you are offended by anything in this fiction, including sex changes, profanity and/or sexual situations, I suggest you stop reading here.

We do not own anything to do with Harry Potter and earn nothing from this story. The plot is Vodoodollz' while I merely give it flesh. Please enjoy!

Prologue

"In the end, it's not the years in your life that count, it's the life in your years."

– Abraham Lincoln.

Hogwarts Battle, May, 1998

Harry wasted no time in watching Voldemort crumple to the ground, dead. He ignored the sudden silence and subsequent roaring of triumphant cheers as he ran as fast as he could to the Shrieking Shack, Ron and Hermione following close behind.

"Harry! What –" Hermione called, puffing.

"Snape!" was the only reply she received; the only reply she or Ron needed to keep going.

He needs me! He can't die; not now, was all that ran through his mind as he threw the door open from the tunnel under the Whomping Willow. He raced over to he still figure of his Potions professor, ignoring the tears running down his face.

There was so much blood. He frantically closed the wound with a charm he'd learned from the Half Blood Prince, checking for any sign of life.

The body was cold. But he felt it. A very faint pulse. It fluttered under his fingers weakly, making him sob with joy. He had a chance to save Snape.

"Hermione, help me get him to St Mungo's. He needs blood and potions. Ron, you go back to your family and make sure everyone's ok. Go! Now!" he barked, startling them into action. Ron nodded, squeezing Harry and Hermione's shoulders before running back through the passage to the school. Harry turned to Hermione. "Help me hold him still while I side-along you both. Just make sure we stick together as tightly as possible," he instructed, hauling the man up. "Wrap your arms around him and hold onto me. Don't let go."

Once he was sure they were as secure as possible, he apparated to the Emergency Ward in St Mungo's Hospital.

Upon his arrival, several medi-witches and wizards flocked over to him, taking Snape, placing him gently on a gurney. As the man was rushed away, Harry was bombarded with forms and questions from the medi-witch at the desk. Hermione was answering as many questions as she could, speaking rapidly with a Senior Healer.

In a daze, Harry filled out the forms for Snape as best he could, naming himself as next of kin and primary carer upon release.

X

Hours passed before they found out what had happened to their professor.

The Senior Healer from before came out, looking grave. Harry and Hermione rushed over to him, the worst possible scenarios playing in their minds.

"He's stable," said Healer Rothford. "But he's lost a lot of blood, and the venom from the bite caused a lot of tissue and nerve damage. It also affected his primary motor functions as well as his ability to speak," he paused as Hermione gasped, burying her face into Harry's shoulder. "But," he continued, "he will recover fully; with a strict regime of potions and rehabilitation. He will need someone to care for him and help him during his recovery," he turned to Harry. "Mr Potter, you're listed as both next of kin and primary carer, so I will need to speak with you privately," he darted a glance at Hermione.

. "Go ahead, Harry. I'll wait here."

"No. It's fine. Go back to Hogwarts and be with Ron. I'll let you know everything when I can." She nodded, hugging him briefly before leaving.

Harry and Rothford went to the healer's office to discuss Snape's recovery.

"Mr Potter," he hesitated, but pushed through at Harry's impatient glare. "You're very young. This kind of care is… time consuming and very strict. Are you sure you can take this on right now?"

"Of course!" he nearly barked. He was worried sick; only interested in answers.

"Very well. Your professor… is extremely dependant on you now. He has no capability to function as he once could. You will need to feed him the potions he needs to recover. You will need to ensure he has professional physical and speech therapies. You… will need to bathe him and keep him from soiling himself." He sighed, obviously unsure that Harry could – or would – do all of this. "There are charms that may be applied every day, to make sure his bowel movements are regular and mess-free. But he will still need to wear an adult diaper just in case." Harry nodded, resolving himself to help the man who'd lost so much.

"Of course. I'll make sure he receives the care he needs. If I can't do something myself, I'll pay a professional."

"Good. Now, you will need to keep in mind that he will still be himself. He will remember everything. But he won't be able to speak until the speech therapy and necessary potions are taken. This stage alone will take months.

"The potions to replenish the lost blood and lost or damaged tissue and nerves will take about six months to complete. But, only in the last two months will he be fit to start physical therapy. You will have to feed him and make sure he doesn't choke." He looked and sounded very weary. "There are qualified Healers and medi-witches here if you would prefer to leave him in the care of the hospital. It's up to you, Mr Potter."