Harry woke up, his body aching. The room was now dark, save for the dim flicker from a few sconces. He was happy to note that he was still at Snape's bedside; no one had moved him while he slept. Sitting up, he stretched his neck trying to ease some of the muscles' soreness. Dumbledore was no longer sitting across from the bed, but Harry could hear his hushed voice.

"Severus will recover?" the old man asked.

"I have seen an improvement in his health," Madame Pomfrey replied. "It's small, but it's a sign that he's still fighting. I think he will pull through."

Harry sighed in relief; that certainly made him feel better. He couldn't stand it if another man died because of him. Taking a hold of Snape's hand, he watched the battered man breathe.

Suddenly, Snape's body tensed and his hand clenched down onto Harry's.

At first Harry was confused. He stood up quickly, trying to assess what was wrong with the man. The action made him dizzy, but he ignored it. On Snape's left arm, he noticed the dark mark-it seemed angry. This skin around it was red and inflamed. But by the time Harry realized what was happening, his scar flared up in pain.

"Headmaster," Harry rasped as his knees gave way.

The next thing Harry saw was a much different scene. A ring of Death Eaters cowered around him. So consumed with hate, he couldn't utter a word. It took a while for Harry to separate his thoughts from Voldemort's. The man was so angry, it was overwhelming.

Voldemort pursed his lips and twirled his wand. Without warning, he cursed the nearest Death Eater with the Cruciatus. The pain in Harry's scar tripled, until his head felt like it would explode. Voldemort went from one Death Eater to the next without pause. No one was spared. Soon the room filled with their screams.

"You dare defy me?" Voldemort shouted. He raised his wand again, preparing for a second round.

"N-no, my lord," someone dared to utter. "W-we are loyal."

Voldemort didn't respond-Harry could feel his body seething with anger. Again the man raised his wand; his hand trembled with fury. "Prove it," Voldemort shouted. "All of you! Go out and prove your loyalty." No one moved. "Now!"

All the Death Eaters scrambled to their feet. Many tripped and ran into each other as they struggled to get out the door. Voldemort stalked off behind them, ready to curse anyone who lagged behind.

Harry found himself staring up at a decorative ceiling; apparently, they were still at Grimmauld Place. His breathing was heavy and his head hurt so bad that he thought he might sick up.

"Harry," Remus called.

Harry swallowed. His throat was dry. He'd been screaming. Turning his head, he looked up at Remus. He was shocked to see how close he was to the man's face. Remus must have been holding him.

"Remus," Harry rasped. Harry looked over to Snape, to see the man still writhing in pain. The headmaster had to hold Snape's right arm down in order to stop him from clawing at his mark.

"Cut it off," Snape pleaded.

"He'll be okay," Remus comforted, tightening his hold on Harry in order to keep the boy in his arms.

Harry struggled to get away as Remus carried him across the room. Gently, Remus put Harry down on his bed. Harry tried to sit up to look around Remus hoping to catch sight of Snape.

"Harry, drink this," Remus instructed, putting a cup to Harry's lips.

Quickly, in order to appease Remus and get him out of the way, Harry drank down the cup's contents. He nearly gagged from the gross taste.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"A Dreamless Sleep potion," Remus replied.

"What?!" Harry shouted, although his voice was still strained, so it didn't come out very strongly. "Why? I-"

"I'm sorry," Remus replied. "But you need to rest and it will keep you safe from visions."

"But what about Snape? I need to..." Harry was growing tired.

"Madame Pomfrey will take care of him," Remus said as he tucked the boy in. "You need to rest."

Harry fought to keep his eyes open. He wanted to stay awake and make sure Snape was okay. It was a fruitless effort and soon he was asleep.

xxxxx

The next morning, Harry woke up feeling groggy. It didn't take long for the panic to return to him. His head and body still ached, but he ignored the pain as he climbed out of bed. He needed to check on Snape, to make sure he was okay.

The room was empty, save Snape, who was still lying in the next bed over. Thankfully, the Potions Master was still alive. Harry crept across the room and surveyed the man's condition. Snape's left arm was now wrapped tightly in gauze; he briefly wondered if they had in fact ended up cutting off the mark... at least it wasn't the whole arm, Harry shuddered.

"Potter, could you please refrain from gawking at me?" Snape drawled.

Harry smiled broadly, "You're awake!" Relief flowed through him... Snape was alive.

"Indeed," Snape replied. He attempted to sit up, but only managed to wince in pain. Harry moved to help, but a glare from Snape stopped him.

"Are you going to be okay?" Harry asked.

"Eventually."

Harry sighed. It took every fiber of resistance not to bend over and hug the man. Snape raised an eyebrow, as if sensing the boy's intentions.

"You should get back in bed," Snape said. "I've heard enough fussing from Madame Pomfrey to last a lifetime."

"Er..." Harry wanted to apologize. He needed to tell Snape how sorry he was for causing him to go through so much pain. But he couldn't think of what to say. After realizing he probably looked like an idiot, Harry blushed. Once again, he opened his mouth to speak, but Snape's glare made him snap it shut.

Harry had just climbed back into bed, before Madame Pomfrey came bustling in. She first rushed to Snape's side and said a few diagnostic charms. "Very good," she announced, speaking more to herself than anyone else. Pulling out a few vials from her robes, she handed them to Snape, as she ordered him to drink up. Then, without pausing, she helped him sit and pulled up his pajama top. She opened a canister of paste and began rubbing some into his marred back.

Again, Harry felt a rush of guilt. All because of me, Harry told himself. Snape suffered all because of me. He had never seen someone in so much pain before and he doubted that Snape was exaggerating. If I hadn't been such a wimp... Harry hoped that Snape wouldn't hate him after they were healed and back at Hogwarts. But at the moment, he couldn't figure out why Snape wouldn't hate him. After all, the man would be fine if it weren't for him.

Next, Madame Pomfrey wandered over to Harry and examined him in a manner similar to Snape. Afterwards, he was given a couple of healing potions.

"Is there anything else you two need?" Madame Pomfrey asked as she headed to the door.

"Nah," Harry shook his head. He was actually feeling a lot better. In fact, if he'd been at school, he would have asked to be released. But at the moment, he couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be.

"I would like a private room," Snape demanded.

Harry's heart sank...that confirms it, Snape hates me.

Madame Pomfrey nodded, "Remus has already prepared a room for Harry." The mediwitch's face grew commanding, "But you're not to leave your bed, do you understand me Severus? You stay put; you're still not healthy enough to move around."

"Yes, fine, fine," Snape muttered. Apparently they'd discussed the topic before.

"The same goes for you Harry. Remus will come and get you after the order meeting, so you'll just have to wait until then."

"I can just-"

"No, Harry," Madame Pomfrey interrupted, "you can wait for Remus. Honestly, I don't understand you two. Even when you're hurt..." She walked out of the room, but they could still hear her grumbling down the hall.

Harry leaned back into the soft pillows. Just a few days ago, he had been resigned to die...in truth, he had wanted to. The memories made him shudder and he fought to push them back into the recesses of his mind. He was safe now; inexplicably he had been saved once again. He owed Snape so much and he wished there was a way to apologize to the man. Rolling over, Harry realized it was probably better this way. Everyone that got close to him...

"Potter," Snape snapped, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "Before you get all sulky or guilt ridden, I would like to remind you that I am a grown man. It is not so strange that I would request privacy. Furthermore," his voice became firm, "you did not force me to betray the Dark Lord, or coerce me to spy, and you most certainly didn't make me take the dark mark. None of this is your fault. I am responsible for my own decisions, do you understand?"

Harry stared at the ceiling, his mind reeling. Snape had been so blunt. It took a moment for Harry to realize that Snape expected a reply. "Er... yes, sir," he finally said. But it didn't really feel true to him... he still knew this was his fault.

"Good, now rest. Lupin should be here shortly."

Trying to do as he was told, Harry struggled to keep his mouth shut. He had so many questions. "You really are okay?" he asked, "I mean, just last night... and..." the torture itself, Harry wanted to add-it had looked so bad.

Snape sighed. "Yes, Harry, I will be fine."

"But you- Oh, I'm so sorry!" Harry blurted out.

"Potter," Snape growled. "Did I not say, just a moment ago, that this was not your fault? Now let it go! Must you insist on blaming yourself for everything?" Snape paused. "We will discuss your penchant for wandering around the corridors at night alone, another time. At the moment, it's really not all that important."

"If I hadn't-" Harry shuddered. He'd be safe in Gryffindor tower, taking classes, being a normal student.

"Postponing the inevitable," Snape replied. "The Dark Lord was centering all of his efforts on capturing you; it was only a matter of time. Albus was unwilling to- it doesn't matter, you're safe now, so rest."

"Wait, what did Dumbledore do?"

"Sleep, Potter!" Snape snapped.

Harry sat up to protest, but then the door opened.

"Harry, you're awake," Lupin commented. Harry saw Snape roll his eyes, just before he turned his attention towards Remus. "How do you feel?"

"Okay," Harry replied. Remus watched him for a moment, as if patiently waiting for him to elaborate. Harry'd forgotten what it was like to talk to Remus, how the man gave him complete attention. Suddenly, a tirade of questions came to him. Where had Remus been? What had he been up to? And he wanted to know what Dumbledore was unwilling to do... and more about Voldemort's plans. And why had Lucius saved him? But oddly enough, Harry didn't want to talk to Remus, he wanted to talk to Snape.

"Potter, we'll talk later," Snape said. Even though the words were comforting, the man's tone sounded more like he was giving out a detention.

"Come on, Harry," Remus said, "let me help you up to your room."

"I can walk," Harry said quickly, climbing out of bed-he didn't want to be carried around anymore.

In an instant, Remus was at his side, holding his arm to help steady him. All in all, Harry didn't feel all that bad, perhaps a little sore and achy. His head felt slightly dizzy, but he knew he could manage to walk on his own. Yet despite that, Harry couldn't bring himself to ask Remus to let go. He liked the support, the small amount of comfort-it confirmed the fact that he wasn't alone.

A feeling of dread filled Harry's stomach. He didn't want to be alone. For the first time in a very long time, Harry didn't want to be left alone. As the man led him up to his room, he tried to think of an excuse for Remus to stay with him.

"You're going to need to rest for the next few days," Remus said. "You're healing well, but your injuries really were quite extensive."

"They tortured me," Harry said, his tone short. He loved Remus, but something felt off with the man. Remus was treating him like a small child and it was irritating. Harry did not want or need to be coddled-as Snape would say.

Remus misinterpreted Harry's statement and pulled the boy closer to give him a half hug. "It will be okay," he said.

This made Harry angry. Nothing would be okay, everything had changed... but he didn't say anything. As frustrating as Remus was, Harry didn't want to be left alone. In fact, neither of them had said another word until after Harry was tucked into his bed.

"Harry," Remus said, speaking solemnly. "I need to tell you something." Harry turned his head and bit his lip. Whatever was wrong, it was serious. "Your relatives," Remus continued, "yesterday, they-"

"They died," Harry interrupted, his tone casual-he knew they were going to die.

Remus nodded, his arms held out as if to offer Harry a hug. The boy looked away; he supposed he should feel sad, angry, or guilty. But really, he felt nothing; he felt empty.

"You know," Harry said, "they never wanted me."

"Pardon?" Remus asked, sounding surprised.

Harry scowled, he was rather angry at Remus-a man who was supposedly one of his fathers best friends. Remus should have checked up on him... he should have found out about the Dursleys. Suddenly, Harry wanted to yell and rant-He wanted Remus to know... "They said I was a worthless freak and said I should be grateful that they didn't dump me at an orphanage."

"Harry, I-"

Harry cut him off, "You know, when I was little, I used to be sad about that. But now it makes sense. I mean, would you have taken me in if you knew it'd mean the death of you and your family?"

"If I could have taken you in Harry, I would have."

"Then why didn't you?" Harry asked-his voice raising. He didn't know if he really wanted to hear the answer, but he had to know.

"I tried, Merlin knows..." Remus shook his head, "but they didn't allow it, because of my condition. The only way I could have a child, is if I sired it myself."

"You really tried?" Harry asked.

"Well yes, of course."

Now Harry felt guilty, again. Remus really did try and adopt him... Harry knew shouldn't be so angry with the man. Yet, he still had a nagging feeling, something didn't add up. If Remus really wanted to take him, a couple of muggles never would have stood in the way. In fact, if anyone would have walked up and offered to take him, the Dursleys would have gladly given him away. And Harry knew that it was wrong to lock up a child for days with no food. Neglect really... If Remus or Albus-or anyone from the order-had bothered to properly check on him, they'd have noticed straight away. Suddenly, Harry's breath caught... what if they did check on me? What if they just left me there? Harry shuddered, the thought made him feel sick. Does anyone really care about me? Or am I just a tool... for this stupid war. If it weren't for the prophecy, would I really matter?

Remus put a hand on his shoulder, as if noticing Harry's distress. The action drew Harry out of his depressing thoughts and back into the present. He asked the first question that came to him, "Where am I going now?"

"I don't know," Remus replied. "But don't worry; Albus is taking care of it."

Harry snorted.

"Don't think about it right now. Things will work out."

Harry highly doubted it. He scowled into his pillow and held back any angry retorts. As mad as he felt about Remus' coddling, he didn't want to say something that would make the man leave. They continued to talk about inane things until Harry could no longer fight off sleep.

xxxxx

Harry woke up several times that night. Remus had been at his side each time and able to get him back to sleep. Harry had never woken up enough to become cognizant of his surroundings. So the next morning, when he woke up completely, he felt a lot more refreshed.

The first thing Harry was aware of was that he was warm and comfortable, but he had to use the loo. And secondly, he really didn't want to leave his warm cocoon of blankets in order to make the trek to the toilet. It took him a while, debating in his mind, until he finally decided he should just go. Standing up, he felt both sore and stiff. And he suddenly realized he didn't know where he was.

It took him a moment, standing there shivering, to fully comprehend everything that had happened over the last few days. How long had it really been? He didn't know. Suddenly, he remembered Draco and how his long time enemy had cried for his mum. Harry wondered if Draco was still lurking somewhere in Grimmauld Place-he surely hoped not. But it didn't matter now; all that mattered was going to the loo.

Shuffling over to the toilet, Harry had time to notice the fact that both his wrists were now wrapped. He hadn't noticed it yesterday, but he hadn't really paid attention to his own physical wellbeing. Mostly, he'd been concerned about Snape. The image of the man's broken body played in his mind. Harry wondered if he'd be allowed see to him.

"You're awake!" Remus exclaimed.

Harry nearly wet himself on the spot. He hadn't noticed Remus sitting in the armchair pulled up next to the bed. He felt comforted knowing someone was with him. He really didn't relish the idea of being left alone at the moment.

"Just going to the toilet," Harry replied, trying to sound casual.

Afterwards, when Harry was washing his hands, he caught sight of himself in mirror. He was surprised by how skinny and pale he was. Even after a full summer with the Dursleys, he never looked as bad as he did now.

Summer with the Dursleys, Harry suddenly remembered that he'd never be going back there again. Where would he go now? All of it was too much and he tried not to think about it. When Harry left the bathroom, he found not only Remus in his bedroom, but Madame Pomfrey as well.

"Back into bed with you," the mediwitch ordered. Harry groaned; he was feeling much better. Staying in bed was starting to feel ridiculous. Pomfrey picked up on Harry's hesitation and started to speak in her usual lecturing voice. "I know you feel better, Harry, but you have to remember that you were seriously injured. You need to give yourself time to properly heal."

"I was just using the loo," Harry snapped.

"And you may continue to do so," Madame Pomfrey replied, not in the least affected by Harry's temper. "As long as you understand to take it easy." She continued to stare at Harry expectantly until he finally nodded. "Good," she said, and then handed him a vial. "Now drink this. I'll be sending up some food and I expect you to eat it."

After she bustled out the door, Harry relaxed back into the pillows. He was surprised by how tired he felt; he'd only been awake for a few minutes after all.

"Are these potions laced with sedatives?" Harry asked-his tone sharp.

"No, Harry, you're tired," Remus replied, as patient as he always was. "Do you think you're up to seeing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?"

Harry shrugged, "I guess."

Remus got up and left the room. After a moment, both Molly and Arthur Weasley entered. Harry looked up at Molly, her face filled with concern and sadness.

"Harry dear," she said as she enveloped him in a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay." She was both gentle and firm, so that Harry couldn't move away, but he wasn't hurt at all. Finally she pulled away, fluffing his pillows before she urged him to lean back and rest.

Arthur rested a hand on Harry's leg, giving an encouraging nod. Both the adults looked so serious that Harry was beginning to feel concerned.

"Remus told you about your relatives?" Arthur prompted.

Harry nodded.

"Since you are still underage," Arthur said, "you need to have an official guardian."

Again, Harry nodded. He knew all this and was getting annoyed. Right now, Harry didn't want to think about guardians and the like. He wanted to lay back and think about nothing.

"We've always thought of you as a member of our family," Arthur continued. "And perhaps we can make it a permanent arrangement."

Harry stared at them in shock; they couldn't really want to adopt him, could they? I'm such a burden...

"What Arthur is trying to say," Molly butted in, "is that we'd like to adopt you."

Harry opened his mouth; he didn't know what to say.

Arthur held up his hand, "You don't have to decide now."

"Yes, dear, take some time to think about it," Molly said. "And remember, no matter what you decide, we will still love you."

Yet again, Harry nodded. He couldn't seem to piece together anything to say.

"We'll let you rest now," Arthur announced, pulling Molly towards the door.

Before they reached it, Harry suddenly remembered. "Mrs. Weasley?" he asked. "How are Ron and Hermione?"

"Everyone is okay. They should be in class right now, I should think."

Harry sighed in relief. So it had been just him that was captured. He had been worried, especially since Ron was gone that night. Harry opened his mouth again; he wanted to ask if they could visit. Changing his mind, he remained silent; he wasn't so sure he wanted to see them yet after all.

Arthur and Molly waited patiently for him to continue.

Harry blushed when he realized his mouth was still hanging open. Finally, he said, "Thank you."

They were only gone a moment before Remus entered again, carrying a tray of food. Harry groaned when he saw the size of the soup bowl and the huge chunk of bread. He was hungry... but surly his stomach couldn't handle all that.

xxxxx

Surprisingly enough, Harry had managed to eat-at least enough to appease Remus. During the meal, Remus had also brought along a copy of the latest Daily Prophet. Among the headlines were "Boy Who Lived: Rescued" and "Spy Infiltrates the Death Eaters." And there were also countless stories of the subsequent attacks. It seemed that the Death Eaters had proved their loyalty to the Voldemort. Even though he shuddered as he read the articles, Harry was glad that Remus shared them. In his mind, Harry figured he had the right to know-a responsibility to know.

Harry was actually rather surprised that Remus had brought the paper. As coddling as the man had been of late, it seemed out of character. But when Harry folded up the paper and set it aside, Remus leaned in... his face full of concern and sympathy.

Harry groaned.

"Listen Harry," Remus said, ignoring Harry's reaction. "You need to talk about this."

"What is there to say?" Harry snapped.

"How do you feel?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Talk to me Harry," Remus continued, talking more patiently. "You can't hold everything in."

Harry turned away to face the far wall and kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to talk about it, not yet...maybe not ever...

Remus put a hand on Harry's shoulder and tried to make the boy face him. Harry pulled away. "Why don't you talk to me," Harry shouted. "Where have you been? What have you been up to?"

"Harry I-"

Harry rolled over to face Remus, "Let me guess, you can't talk about it can you? Well then I can't talk about anything either, so just leave me alone!" Turning away once again, Harry pulled the covers up to his shoulder and closed his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and think about nothing.

"Do you want me to leave?" Remus asked quietly, sounding sad and distant.

Harry's eyes bolted open-his body tensed. "No!" he whispered quickly.

"Alright," Remus said, patting Harry's shoulder, "I'll stay and how about I tell you some more stories about your parents, hhmm?"

Harry rolled his eyes and then shrugged.

It took Harry a long time to calm down and relax. At first, the stories seemed like painful memories of all the things he and Remus had lost. But after countless tales of pranks, marauders, and a baby Harry, they had both actually found themselves smiling.

Over the next two days, Remus never left Harry's side except for when another person came by with their adoption offer. After the Weasleys came Professor McGonagall and then Hagrid. But it didn't stop there-Madame Pomfrey, Arabella Figg, and even Kingsley Shacklebolt came by to make their offers. Harry was beginning to feel like a stray pet and wondered if there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet. At least Fudge hadn't dropped by yet-the one benefit to staying in the Black House.

Dumbledore was the last to see him. The old man had been careful to assure Harry that it was his choice alone as to who would be his next guardian. Feeling flippant, Harry almost said he had chosen Bertie Bott, because he couldn't get enough of her beans... but Dumbledore had looked old and tired, so Harry held his tongue.

In the next moment, Harry was glad that he did. The headmaster, seeming more vulnerable than Harry had ever remembered, also offered to adopt him. All anger died on his lips as Harry saw a flicker of love in the headmaster's eyes. For all the manipulation and bad choices, Dumbledore did care about him. Keeping his mouth closed, Harry had nodded and looked away-just as he had for all the other offers. Before he left, Dumbledore had also explained to him that he had one more day to decide. Fudge was looking for an answer or soon, he'd step in.

After that, Harry feigned sleep-although he was sure Remus noticed. However, the man sat quietly, reading a book-giving him space, but never leaving his side.

Considering all the offers, Harry didn't want any of them. Sure, the Weasleys were a tempting offer, but he loved them too much. He couldn't add to the family's financial burden or put them in danger. Besides, they already had a lot of children... Figg and McGonagall, he didn't have much of a connection to. And Hagrid, well if a werewolf couldn't adopt him, than it was likely an expelled half giant wouldn't be approved either.

The only two candidates that he was more seriously considering were Dumbledore and Shacklebolt. Kingsley Shacklebolt seemed like an odd choice, simply because he hadn't had much to do with the man. But, apparently, Shacklebolt had been friends with his father. Also, the man had offered to personally train him after he got out of school, which would be very beneficial.

Dumbledore was more of his default choice. Harry didn't want to endanger anyone, but he definitely didn't want to become a ward of the ministry. Therefore, Dumbledore would do... besides it was less than a year until he was of age. Yet Harry couldn't get over his anger with the man. Dumbledore had put him in the Dursleys' care after all and why adopt him now, after all these years? Plus, could Harry ever really trust the man not to hide things from him?

All in all, Harry was feeling exceedingly frustrated by the matter the more he thought about it. Why couldn't he just take care of himself? He'd practically raised himself thus far. Why couldn't everyone leave him alone?

It was during these thoughts that Harry drifted off to sleep.

Harry was five years old again and sitting in his cupboard. It wasn't really all that unusual of an occurrence. When he was five, he was almost always in the cupboard. Harry'd been a mischievous child and his marauder side had never truly been stamped out by the Dursleys.

This time, Harry was fairly content. His stockpile of food was moderate and he didn't really need to pee. Since he had recently started school, the symbols on the various cleaning bottles suddenly had new meaning to him. He sat, reciting the symbols names "B...L...E...A...C" pausing for a moment trying to figure out the last one, "H!"

Looking around briefly, Harry wished he had someone to share his knowledge with. Maybe a mummy or a daddy who could say "well done" and smile like other kid's mummys and daddys did.

On cue, the latch to his door was being undone. Without thinking, little Harry pointed to the bottle, full of excitement. He opened his mouth, ready to proclaim each letter's name.

When he looked up into Uncle Vernon's face, he kept his mouth shut. Cold, angry, loveless eyes stared back at him, just like they always looked at him. At five, Harry was still little enough that he wanted desperately to change his uncle's eyes, to have the man look at him like he did Dudley. He wanted so much to be loved.

With a weak smile, Harry looked back and tried to appear as sweet as possible. Sometimes, in the stores, woman would look at him like he was a cute normal little boy. Uncle Vernon didn't. Instead, the man grabbed him by the hair and pulled him out of the cupboard.

"Clean the dishes, you little freak," he bellowed. "And be quick about it! Petunia's having friends over this evening and we don't want to have you in the way."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied as he quickly made his way to the pile of dishes. He had to climb up on an overturned bucket to reach the sink. For a minute, he nursed the sore spot on his head and let his lip pout. With company coming, there was no chance he'd get to sit outside and eat his stale bread. No chance the Dursleys would forget about him, giving him an opportunity to sneak a peek at the cartoons Dudley watched on the tele. Once the minute passed, Harry scrubbed the dishes with vigor. He was quick, trying to give himself enough time to run to the loo before he was locked in the cupboard again.

He had the last of the dishes loaded into the washer. Being young and clumsy, he'd dripped sudsy water all over the floor. Grabbing a towel, Harry scrambled off of the bucket to clean up his mess. In his hurry, his feet slipped and he fell, banging his knees on the floor. The injury was not all that serious, but to a five-year-old boy, it sure smarted.

Unable to stop it, Harry's eyes gave way to tears as small sobs escaped his lips. When Petunia entered the room, Harry couldn't help but look up with longing... just a small hug or maybe an ice pack for his hurt knees.

The woman gave him neither and instead, twisted her lips in anger. "You nasty little freak! Look what you've done, water all over the floor! Go to your cupboard! Now!"

Climbing to his feet, Harry moved quickly to obey.

Before he made it, Uncle Vernon stopped him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. "Not a sound boy! We don't want anyone to know you're here," Vernon roared. "Or you won't come out for a week."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said, fighting back the tears.

After being shoved into the cupboard, the door was slammed and locked shut. Biting his lip, Harry kept himself quiet... yet he couldn't stop the tears. He pulled his hurting knees close, wishing again that he had a mummy and daddy. Someone to hold him and make sure his hurts went away. But he was all alone.

Harry had long since given up the hope of having parents, just as he'd accepted being alone... until recently, when he'd dared hope again... First with Sirius and then with Snape...

Harry's dreams shifted to a much more recent memory... Harry sat in a similar fashion with his knees pulled close, but the room was very different.

He'd been captured at least a day or two before. Twice already, Lucius Malfoy and come and taken him to the empty room. Twice, he and Bellatrix Lestrange had had their fun, torturing him mercilessly. The last time, Harry'd finally broken down and cried. As stubborn as he was, he couldn't fight the pain any longer and he asked them to stop-begged them to stop. Both Malfoy and Lestrange had laughed at him, but Harry didn't care-his pride had long since gone. At least they had stopped. After giving him another round of healing potions, they had left Harry alone in the fancy room feeling sick and achy.

It was a strange place to be held captive. Like his cupboard, it was completely closed off, with no windows and only one locked door. But instead of cleaning bottles and dirty shelves, Harry was surrounded by a beautiful room one might find in a manor.

But none of that mattered, as he was once again left all alone and in pain. Like he had when he was a little boy, Harry cried silently, wishing his Mum and Dad would come. Being sixteen, Harry knew it would never happen, so his wishes quickly changed to joining his Mum and Dad. He wanted to die.

With a start, Harry sat up in bed. In the darkness of the room, he was caught off guard. Thinking he was all alone, still in that dreaded manor, Harry gasped for air as panic over took him.

"Harry," Remus called. "Harry, you're okay."

Reaching out, Harry latched on to Remus' arm as the man spelled the lights on. The brightness had Harry squinting, but even so, it was a small comfort. More important, though, was Remus' arm and Harry clung to it like a lifeline.

However, as Harry adjusted to the room's brightness, some fear crept back into him. He suddenly noticed how similar it was to the other manor... When was the last time he'd been out of the room?

"I need to get out," Harry said, releasing Remus' arm. Scooting to the other side of the bed, he climbed to his feet. "I want to go outside."

The floor was cold, but Harry didn't bother to look for shoes or slippers. His only thought was opening the door, assuming it was unlocked. Abruptly, he feared it might not be.

"Harry, wait," Remus' called. "You're hurt... this might not be a good idea. Climb back into bed while I ask Madame Pomfrey."

"No!" Harry shouted. He did not want more potions; suddenly he remembered the delusional potion Lucius had made him take. What if all this was just another delusion... what if he was still at the manor? Wildly, Harry dashed for the door, but Remus grabbed him. Like a trapped animal, Harry flailed his arms and kicked his legs. "No!" he screamed again and again.

Harry reached out his arm; he was so close to the door. He had to know that it could open; he had to know he could get outside.

Suddenly, the door did open, but not by Harry's doing. It revealed a rather disgruntled looking Severus Snape, dressed only in pajamas, but looking foreboding as ever with his wand raised.

"I need to go outside," Harry pleaded.

At first, Snape looked confused, but in the next instant he looked understanding. "Let him go," Snape commanded, taking hold of Harry's outstretched hand. Remus did as he was told, but opened his mouth to protest. Snape cut him off, "We'll be just fine. Now leave us be for a few minutes."

Injured or not, Snape's tongue, coupled with his glare, still held a lot of authority. Soon, Harry found himself supported by (and supporting) Snape as they hobbled down the stairs. Breathing heavily from the exertion, Snape opened the front door, bringing them right outside.

They didn't bother leaving the porch; therefore, they didn't exactly leave the property. Still safe within the protected confines of Dumbledore's Fidelius Charm, Harry looked up into the clear night sky full of stars. The moon was getting large, so the area was well lit.

"Does that meet with your fancy, Potter?" Snape snapped.

Harry knew there was no malice in Snape's tone. Relaxing, he took a deep breath of the fresh crisp air. Looking back at the moon, he wondered how much longer he'd have Remus around.

"I expect to be able to brew your potion tomorrow," Snape said, filling the silence. "You should be well enough to take it within the next two days. Finally, we'll be done with your deaged persona."

Unconsciously, Harry scooted closer to Snape; it was cold outside and he wished one of them had brought along a cloak or a blanket.

"Potter?" Snape asked. The man's voice seemed off-strained or awkward. "I understand that you're in need of a guardian." He paused. "If you're still undecided, I..." Snape pursed his lips, looking frustrated and disgusted, neither of which was directed at Harry, but rather internally. "Skipping sentimentality," Snape's tone became harder, "I am offering to adopt you." Again, there was silence. "We should go inside," Snape announced, ushering Harry back into Grimmauld Place.

Blankly, Harry followed, his mind reeling. Despite all the recent events, he hadn't expected to hear that out of the man's mouth, not in a million years. However, it took him less than a minute to decide.

"Yes!" Harry blurted out.

Snape looked startled and maybe a little confused. "Yes?" he asked quietly.

"You asked to adopt me," Harry clarified. "My answer is yes."