Pretty Boy

Chapter 1


Harry walked out of his small flat, closing the door behind him, fighting with the key hole just to get his door locked. Cursing under his breath, he grunted and with a particularly vicious twist, he grinned in triumph, before walking away, pocketing his keys. He'd been meaning to get it seen to, unfortunately those kind of expenses weren't freely available to use on doors. Having run away from Hogwarts at the age of eleven, he'd been doing what he had to do - to survive. For the first few months, he'd actually been on the streets. Until a woman, Andrea, was kind enough to take him in, they'd gone hungry more days than not, but Harry hadn't cared. He had a roof over his head, he got more than he usually did at the Dursley's, and he considered it a win. At the age of twelve he had begun helping Andrea, bringing in more money. Him being younger, people were willing to part with more money. Yes it was horrible thought, but Harry standing here at the age of nineteen would do it all over again. Unfortunately Andrea was no longer among the living. She'd gone out one night…and never returned her face had been on the news a few nights later. Turned out she had parents, who'd missed her a great deal, and her name had not been Andrea at all. Since then he'd been living in the flat himself, paying for it alone. It's why he had taken a part time job in the local supermarket; he'd been there now for two years. He had cheated to get the job, using magic to create documents he'd need and it had rendered him unconscious for a day afterwards. Harry found it extremely difficult to cast magic, and so did not push past his limits, which he'd found the hard way.

Now outside he breathed the fresh air, he had been in this life for eight years and he was now nineteen years old, living his life as much as he could. With barley two pennies to rub together it was fine by him, he loved being in a place where he had no expectations. He had hardly thought about the world he had left behind or the Dursley's.

Unbeknown to Harry, his life was about to change tonight.

It was pitch black outside, with only the street lights glowing to cast any light on the street. He stopped and leaned against the wall, this was his usual spot, and a few streets up he saw Jordan. Nodding his head at her, he waited patiently, it was something he'd learned, especially during the rather long and dull nights where he didn't get lucky. That was usually during winter, when nobody wanted to be outside, never mind looking for 'company' so to speak.

Harry's face remained impassive; shaking his head was his only sign of irritation. It really was going to be a long night; Jordan had got lucky, as she was no longer there. Just then he heard what could only be described as a backfiring car, he moved into the shadows and round the corner. His green eyes, glowing slightly as he observed the sight before him. Three men were standing around a figure on the ground; his body was shaking so he was obviously conscious.

"Enjoy your stay in hell." sneered one the deceptively dulcet voice. They were dressed from head to foot in black. Robes he'd recognize them anywhere, they had masks on their faces, and the only thing Harry could tell one from the other was the hair. Long blonde locks fell in waves down one of their backs.

"Let's get out of here." grimaced another looking around shuddering in obvious disgust.

"I agree Nott, I don't want to spend another second here." agreed the third voice, and before Harry's eyes they disappeared. It was the same way he had been able to get away from Hogwarts, when he was younger. The man in the gutter continued to shake, but he made no sound.

Harry shook his head; he did not want to get involved with the magical world. Whoever it was would just have to wake up, and go... wherever he stayed. Or go to the magical equivalent of a hospital, his life was uncomplicated and that's the way it would remain. Harry walked away in the opposite direction, making his way home. His flat was only a few blocks from where he stood, but a moan of agony from the man in the gutter made Harry's step falter.

Groaning in exasperation he made his way back over to him, he couldn't see him properly but he did look severely injured. Someone magical like him would freak if they woke up in a Muggle hospital wouldn't they? Cursing at himself, he levitated the man wandlessly and wordlessly, just sheer wish magic. He wasn't strong enough to be able to carry him back to the flat.

Looking around, grateful for the darkness cloaking them both, he went as fast as he could. He could already feel his magic draining, entering the building, he was very grateful for the first time he was on the ground floor. Keeping the unconscious bloody man afloat, he yanked his key into the hole, and turned it only to be met with resistance.

"Damn it!" growled Harry, continuing to twist it. "Come on." Harry moaned as he tried to open the door to his flat, the lock was being stubborn again and was refusing to let the key turn. Thankfully it finally opened, as a door slammed from the floor above him, gasping in panic as he got the man into the flat before he slammed the door shut. Just as his neighbour that had slammed the door on the floor above came down to the ground floor. Harry let out a sigh of relief, a second later the man would have seen him levitating the wizard that he had rescued.

Floating him through to his sparsely furnished bedroom, he let the magic stop. Leaving him he went through to his kitchen, and begun hunting for the first aid kit. Grabbing the green box, putting on the kettle, he quickly made his way back to his bed room. Then began meticulously, began removing the clothes from the injured wizard. Which was by the way, much more difficult than one would imagine he had around one thousand buttons to undo. He left the wizard's underwear on, he realized his bedding was covered in blood; he would have to throw them out. There was no way he could remove the blood.

The kettle had bound to have boiled by now, despite the fact that too was on the Fritz. Turning the tap on, he let the cold water fill the basin half way, before pouring in the boiling water from the kettle. Testing it to make sure it wouldn't burn him, or the strange wizard. Nodding in satisfaction, grabbing a towel, he carried the basin through and placed in on his set of drawers. Wiping the gushing wound on his stomach first, he placed his hand over the wound. The blood seeped through his fingers, coating them in the red liquid. Closing his eyes he willed the wound to heal, pushing what magic he dared into it. Feeling it coursing through him, doing what he wanted it to then once it had done its task, it stopped. Wiping away the blood he smirked in satisfaction, it had closed completely. He repeated the processes with two of the worst slashes; these ones were bigger and much deeper.

Harry was sweating by the time he'd finished; with shaking hands he cleaned the rest of the wizard. Bandaging the rest of his less severe wounds, which were many, the others had either left him there to die or wanted him to suffer. He had an odd tattoo on his arm, a skull with a snake tongue spouting from it. He could sense the magic within it, a magical tattoo? Shrugging, he wiped his face and gaped in shock. He'd recognize that face anywhere, swallowing thickly, of all people it had to be him.

Professor Severus Snape.

Self consciously, despite the fact the man was unconscious he flattened his fringe. He'd need to glamour it, or maybe put make up on it, the wizard might be able to sense magic, so maybe he should actually. He continued to grumble about the unfairness of life, as he cleaned the rest of him up. Seriously, of all the people in the world he had to help, it had to be one he knew. Someone up there had something against him, it was official.

"I hope you are worth this," scowled Harry to the unconscious wizard. A scowl that was rather familiar, since it usually sat on Snape's face. Looking at his clock he shook his head, there was no point in going out now, it would be daylight soon. Looking down at his hands, he realized he needed a shower desperately.

Leaving Snape, he walked into his bathroom, and stripped out of the rather revealing clothes. Scrubbing himself until he was a wrinkled prune, he stepped out of the way of the spray and lathed shampoo into his hair before going back under.

Stepping out of the bath, he began drying himself sighing in irritation. He knew he was going to regret this. Helping the man, someway, somehow he was indeed going to regret it. He just had that feeling in his stomach, he'd had it the day he overheard those two talking…damn it. Having him there was making him remember, he didn't want that. Cursing once more under his breath he grabbed his pyjamas and left his room. Sitting on the couch, he flung the small blanket over him, and put the TV on hoping to distract himself.

Not long after, Harry found himself dozing off, using all that magic to heal Snape had exhausted him completely. Yawning, and despite his weariness his eyes began closing until unconsciousness claimed him.

Harry woke up abruptly, clambering of the chair, looking through his bedroom and found to his horror it hadn't been a dream. Rubbing his eyes warily, he went through to the kitchen only to realize he had absolutely nothing in. He would need to feed Snape something, even if it was just a can of soup until he was well enough to Apparate. His mind made up, he wandered through to the toilet, removing the lid from the cistern and removed the waterproof container. Unscrewing it he took out a twenty pound note, before replacing the rest. It was enough for his rent, but the money he had right now, had to do for food, gas and electricity until he got paid in a week.

Snape would hopefully stay unconscious while he was away; judging from the blood he'd lost it was a safe bet. Swiping his keys from the TV he closed the door and prayed the lock wouldn't give him trouble. Some god must have taken pity, since it locked without a hint of resistance.

Harry rubbed at his neck; it ached like crazy from sleeping on the couch. It was a small one and Harry wasn't a young boy anymore. Wincing as the pain flared, he removed his hand and painfully stretched his neck, getting the kinks out.

Ten minutes later he entered the supermarket, taking a basket he didn't dally, not that he ever did. Putting tins of soup into it, his favourites, chicken and oxtail, but found himself in the mood for some vegetable soup. Some bread, milk and butter were added in, as well as a small bottle of foundation, before he went to the check outs. Working there ensured a small discount, which reduced the price. Forgoing small talk, he merely said goodbye and left the shop and returning to his apartment.

His houseguest was still asleep, when he went to check on him. Making himself something to eat, he kept some food nearby, just in case Snape woke up. Once he'd eaten he placed the make up on his scar, concealing it effortlessly.

Severus Snape groaned in agony as pain seemed to radiate from absolutely ever bone in his body. What the hell had he done to upset the Dark Lord this time? There was something off, no smell of bleach in the hospital wing and this bed…wasn't helping matters either. He could swear the springs were purposely digging into his back to hurt him. Opening his eyes, they widened in complete horror. Sitting up he bit his own lip to stop the scream from emanating from him. He was bandaged, like a bloody Muggle. To top it off he only had his boxers on, where were his clothes? He'd never been more humiliated before in his life. The Dark Lord had actually ordered them to drop him off in the Muggle world. His entire body froze, he wasn't capable of moving, at all, the pain was too much.

"How are you feeling?"

Severus' eyes met the man's before him; he could sense magic around him. He was genuinely surprised he wasn't in Azkaban or thrown out. The Dark Mark was laid bare for all to see, much to his disgust. He hated looking at the damn thing, a constant reminder of the mistake he'd made as a teenager. One he'd tried to atone for, only to be used by two powerful wizards who both through he belonged to. He was no ones, and he wished he could show them that. Unfortunately he couldn't, as a Slytherin; he knew when to back down. To stay alive and out of Azkaban, he had to let them both think he was loyal to them. He had dark green eyes, filled with worldly knowledge. Old before his time, he should know it's the same look he had in his own eyes at the age of seventeen. Why was he healed by Muggle means if the man was magical? Maybe he didn't know, but that was stupid really.

Taking a good look around the room, he realized it was more than possible the boy's parents hadn't been able to afford it. If they could, they certainly wouldn't let him live this way would they? Not that he thought it was wrong or bad, he'd grown up in a room similar to this. In a small house in Spinners End.

"Are you hungry?" asked Harry arching an eyebrow, he wasn't about to let himself be intimidated. He wasn't eleven years old anymore, so he stood his ground, remaining impassive as the man glared at him.

The glare softened, before he grimaced in pain "Yes," he replied grudgingly. He didn't think he'd be able to eat anything though truth be told. He just thanked his lucky stars he wasn't in a blasted Muggle hospital.

"Would you like a few painkillers?" asked Harry. They weren't very strong but they'd at least take the edge of.

"Where are my clothes?" demanded Severus.

"I was going to wash them," said Harry coldly, furious at being spoken in such a manner when all he was doing was helping him.

"Don't bother, give them to me." said Severus.

"Get them yourself." snapped Harry, the sheer nerve of the man! No wonder they'd beaten him up and left him there. He'd obviously said something to the wrong person and paid the price for it. Slamming the door violently behind him, breathing through his nose, praying his magic didn't react.

Stomping to the kitchen, he dumped the contents of soup into the pan and began heating it. Harshly stirring it causing some to fly out of the pan and onto the hob. Breathing deeply, controlling his anger, not letting it control him. Pouring the soup into a bowl, he removed a few slices of bread, grabbed a spoon before placing it all on the tray.

Balancing the tray in one hand, the robes on his shoulder he re-entered the bedroom. Placing the blooded robes on the bed, and far more gently than the man deserved placed the tray across his lap. Then Harry said, "I healed you as best I could, I'm limited to a certain amount of magic. Hopefully it will be enough to let you get back to wherever you are going. There are your robes, eat the food you look like you could use it. Feel free to leave whenever you like." the 'as soon as possible' was left unsaid but certainly understood.

"Wait," said Severus, grimacing at how low life had brought him, "You can do magic?"

"I believe I did just say that." said Harry turning back around to face Snape.

Severus grabbed his robes, rummaging in them for something before pulling it out. "Un-shrink this." said Severus, "Please." the please was offset by Snape's screwed up face at having to beg.

Regardless of his look Harry remained impassive and replied, "I cannot. As I said previously I'm limited to the magic I can perform."

"It is not a difficult charm, can I see if the wand will let me use it?" he knew he was asking something very personal but he really wanted the Potions. He was on fire, shaking still from the repeated exposure to the Cruciatus Curse and passed his endurance. He was simply put - desperate.

"I do not have a wand," said Harry bluntly, watching the wizard in amusement. He looked half pissed off half completely awed and impressed. He'd never seen such a combination on anyone never mind this man before.

"You healed me…without a wand?" asked Severus gob smacked. This was one hell of a wizard, to think such a powerful man was being denied the magical world because he didn't have the money.

"I did. You best eat it before it gets cold." said Harry before leaving the room feeling a little bit better. He wouldn't let Snape get to him, not that he'd be there for much longer. He'd be out of his hair hopefully tonight or tomorrow morning. He couldn't miss another night of work, he would have to go out and make some money.

Harry walked in to find the man once again lying down, the food though was gone. At least the food hadn't been wasted. He couldn't afford food as it was without it not being eaten and put in the bin. Taking the empty tray he grabbed his clothes while he was there and left.

He got dressed in the living room, once he was done; he took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. Putting a few ice cubes into it, keeping the water colder for longer. He took it through; thankful Snape seemed to be sleeping. His job done he quietly crept out, not seeing the Black eyes open and watching him with sorrow and appreciation - realizing without having to be told just what his…'host' did for a living.

Those people survived and lived, they maybe didn't have much dignity but they did what they had to do to survive. They would all be Slytherins if they were sorted into one of the Hogwarts houses, he knew that, they knew what it took to survive and were cunning enough to see that their life was as long as possible. They were survivalists.

Severus wouldn't be surprised in the least if the boy was gone all night. He needed to get his money from somewhere, and although he didn't like the fact that the young man was out there in the cold dark night. Anything could happen to him, then he would be stuck here, he needed his potions kit un-shrunk.

The Dark Lord and the Death Eaters had been particularly vicious tonight. He could feel a couple of his ribs were broken. There was no way he would get anywhere in that state. If he even attempted to Apparate he'd end up making matters worse, splinching himself in the process.

A young man with no wand, no magical experience had healed him, surely he, Severus Snape, could un-shrink one measly little bag? Determinedly he grabbed it, holding it tightly in his hand wishing with all, his might for it to work. Allowing his magic to travel down to his hand, as though he was making a potion.

Then the world promptly went black as he fell unconscious, unaware that his wish magic had reacted in his favour. The bag was now heavy and bulging with its contents.

Much better this way, here you are the edited version of Pretty Boy.