Drabble One – Harry kills for the first time

He woke slowly. He noticed voices, hushed and worried. He opened his eyes and although everything was blurry he knew where he was from the white ceiling. Hospital Wing. He stretched his arm out to his bedside, knowing from many stays in this bed when Madam Promfrey would put them. As he pushed himself up in bed the voices became more distinct.

"Harry! He's awake! Madam Pomfrey, he's awake!"

Harry managed a small smile at those who surrounded his bed – Neville and Luna, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Remus, Snape and Dumbledore.

"Good day Mr. Potter. Oh, don't worry, you're fine to move. Just a little shock I should think," the Healer announced as she shuffled over.

"Thanks, Madam." His voice was still weak, but he forced himself to sit up straight and drink the potion offered to him. He then turned his attention to the Headmaster.

"How long have I been out?"

"Not to worry, Harry. Only a couple of hours."

Harry suddenly stiffened as he remembered the earlier battle in Tom Riddle Snr's graveyard. Voldemort had taken Ginny there, expecting Harry to come after her. He didn't disappoint.

"Any casualties?" His voice was sharp and he now focussed on Snape. Although he and the Potions Master weren't on the closest of terms, Harry had come to respect and admire Snape and he knew that the Potions Master could be trusted to give him a straight answer.

"Professor McGonagall received a broken leg and we captured four Death Eaters. No one on our side was killed but… there were seven Death Eater deaths in all." Snape looked straight at Harry as he spoke the unvarnished truth.

Harry blanched, before his jaw tightened and he looked down at his hands. Feeling a hand grip his shoulder and another his hand, he forced his head up.

"No one blames you Harry. You were protecting me. You saved me. Please… don't let this…. Don't blame yourself Harry," Ginny pleaded with him, stroking his hand.

Harry looked up at Ron, slightly scared at what he would find in his best friends face. If anything, Ron's hand tightened on his shoulder as he looked at Harry for a long moment before whispering, "Thank you. Thank you for keeping her and yourself alive."

Harry's eyes widened, and he pulled back from his friends. He stood up from the bed quickly, muttering "Bathroom. I'll be back", and sprinted to the toilet based at the end of the hall.

As soon as the door closed, the entire Hospital ward seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. That is, until a moment later when each person there heard Harry's retching from beyond the door. Molly and Remus both took steps toward the bathroom when Snape stood up.

"Wait. Just wait. He needs this. He needs his time. He took his first lives today, the first in cold blood anyway, and he will get past it. But firstly he needs to get over it."

Remus looked at the man that, somehow, Harry had come to respect. He himself had never killed but he knew the man in front of him had. He also knew that although Harry had witnessed death, even caused it before, there was a vast difference between fighting hand-to-hand with Quirrel for his life, and consciously drawing his wand. He sat back down, and motioned for Molly to fall back as well. Remus knew that Snape, while he may dislike the attention based upon Harry, still had the boy's best interests at heart.

The group was silent as they listened to Harry dry-heaving.

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Close to an hour later, they finally heard the sink start to run. When the water still hadn't ceased three minutes later, Snape shot a warning glance at the others and walked to open the bathroom door. The scene that greeted him there stopped him short for a moment. There was steam rising from the running water, fogging up Potter's glasses and dampening his hair. Potter was scrubbing at his already red, raw hands with a nail brush, murmuring under his breath.

Moving quickly but smoothly, so as not to alarm the boy, Severus moved forward and turned down the heated tap. Harry finally looked up, and upon seeing Snape offered him his hands.

"Can you see the blood?" He asked frantically. "There's blood on my hands. Blood all over them, and no matter what I do, it won't come off!" He turned back to the sink, lathered his hands up with more soap and started scrubbing at them again. "Blood should come off. Blood is thicker than water. Blood should come off in water. But it won't," he looked up in desperation, "it won't. Why won't it, Professor? Please?" Tears started coursing down the boy's cheeks, but he took no notice. "Why won't it just come off? And it's covering my hands, Professor, it's covering my hands. And I'll drown in it. Because I can't get it off. I can't, I can't… I…" Harry turned so his back was to the basin, and sank slowly to the floor.

Ignoring the stares from outside the room, Snape showed gentleness few had seen before or since. He crouched down in front of the young man and slowly took the nail brush from his fingers. He lifted Harry's chin, so they were looking eye to eye, then withdrew his hand.

"Potter. It doesn't come off. It can't. And it may seem hard, but you will learn to live with it. Potter," Snape caught at Harry's face as he again went to turn his head. "I know. There is a mark on your soul, as there is on mine. And for the rest of your life you will try desperately to find ways to atone for killing a person. And you can't."

"Sna-" someone started from outside the room, but were hushed by Dumbledore and Remus.

"Potter. You can not atone for killing, but you can use the rest of your soul- the part that hasn't been torn apart." He touched a long pale hand to Harry's chest. "You must use that to prevent other deaths, other murders. There is nothing that can so redeem you as saving other lives." He stood, taking Harry with him, and motioned for Remus. Remus practically ran to Harry's other side, and they took him back to his bed, handing him some Dreamless Sleep potion.

"Perhaps it would be better if most of us would return to other activities. Young Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger will take the first shift of staying with Harry. I daresay a few of you will volunteer to relieve those two in a few hours. But for now, I propose we get some lunch. I'll send Dobby up with some for Ron and Hermione." And with that, the Headmaster cleared the ward.

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Harry awoke the next morning to see Mr and Mrs Weasley, Remus, and what looked like Ron under the Invisibility Cloak, all asleep. Reaching for his glasses, he found a note on his bedside table.

Potter. There are some of us who, after consciously killing for the first time, feel there is no hope for the future. Writing this now, I advise you to look around as I have done. The Weasleys, Lupin and a certain friend that has once again broken curfew are all here for you. But if, in the course of coming to terms with your actions, you are in need of one who truly understands, I offer you an ear and as much advice as you would like.

Your Professor,

Severus Snape.

Harry took this note in with a blank face, then looked around at the quiet ward. As his Professor had intimated, the world was indeed looking like a darker, sadder place. But maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to make it brighter for others. He leaned back and watched his family sleep.