As the early morning light filtered through the haphazardly closed window shades, Harry gratefully climbed out of bed. Another night without any sleep was over, and he was eternally thankful for it. Every time his eyes had drifted shut, they’d slam open again a moment later as the face of his uncle came into his vision. It never failed, and Harry was exhausted, still. He hid it well, but his sleep deprivation was really beginning to take its toll.

Climbing out of bed, he nearly stumbled into the bedside dresser before regaining his precarious balance and slowly making his way to the bathroom. A nice splash of cold water in the face should do the trick. Entering the bathroom, he decided to forego the splash in the face and headed straight for the shower. Only turning on the cold faucet, Harry forced himself to succumb to the intense chill of the water in order to wake himself up. It worked to an extent. He quickly changed into a pair of loose jeans and a t-shirt before rushing downstairs to join his father for breakfast. He hadn’t been late for the meal since he’d arrived, mainly because he was always up long before his dad was. If Severus caught on, he didn’t let Harry know.

“Good morning, Harry,” he said genially as the boy entered the dining room and took his seat across from Severus. “Did you sleep well?”

Harry glanced up from his still empty plate and nodded his head weakly. “Yes, I slept fine,” he lied.

Severus stared at him for a long while, but Harry didn’t even notice. He had started placing a small amount of food on his plate.

“Is that all you intend on eating?” asked his father.

Harry looked up once more. “I’m not that hungry this morning,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He really wasn’t, he was too damn tired to want to eat.

Severus sighed, almost sounding disappointed. “What’s wrong?” asked Harry, watching his father warily. Harry glanced down at his plate, wondering if he had put too much food on it. Was that the reason his father wasn’t too pleased with him this morning? When his father had asked him if that was all he planned on eating, Harry had taken it as it was spoken. But, now, thinking back, perhaps there had been some sarcasm in the man’s voice? He did always get so mad when he took too much food…no wait, that wasn’t his father, that was his Uncle.

Shaking his head furiously to dislodge the confusing thoughts, Harry took a slice of bacon off his plate and began to slowly chew on it. Severus wanted him to eat, not the other way around. Merlin, he was so tired.

“What time are your friends arriving, Harry?” asked Severus, having not noticed his son’s distracted behavior.

Harry shoved the rest of the bacon in his mouth and swallowed before answering. “Around noon, I think.”

“I think I might go into the village when they arrive and pick up a few potions supplies I’m in need of. Will the three of you be able to contain yourselves and behave while I’m gone?” he asked.

The glare Harry gave his father made Severus grin. “I suppose that’s a yes, then?”

“I’m not a child, father,” he said, grinning as well when his dad gave him one of those looks, with his brow raised. “And you don’t have to wait, you can leave now if you need to. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself for a half an hour before Ron and Hermione get here,” he added.

Severus seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding his head. “I expect you’re right,” he stood up from the table then and headed for the front entrance. “I should be back within the hour unless the village is crowded. Behave,” he said, running a hand through his son’s disheveled hair before walking out the door.

Harry shut it behind him and went back into the dining room to clean up the mess they had left, only to discover Cella had beat him to it. “Thanks, Cella!” he yelled at the house elf as she disappeared. He trudged into the study to await his friends as he’d done the week before for Ron. He grabbed a book off his father’s desk and plopped down into a chair set in front of it. He had read about ten pages before the book had started to slip out of his limp hands and fall to the floor. He jerked his head awake and sat up straight, breathing hard. It was a testament of just how tired he was that he’d nearly fallen asleep while deeply engrossed in reading.

At the same time, the fireplace flared a bright green, spitting out his two best friends. He was a little surprised when the fire didn’t die down, but two more people fell onto the floor. “Fred, George?” he asked, hoping his father wouldn’t mind the extra company. He highly doubted the man would have left them to their own devices had he known the twins were coming.

“Hey, Harry!” Fred exclaimed before throwing an arm around his shoulders and giving him a firm side hug.

“How’s it going with Snape?” asked George, looking around the large study and into the expansive corridor beyond. “You were right Ron, this place is brilliant.”

Harry watched as the twins and Hermione gazed at the house, precisely as Sirius had done only the week before, and laughed. “It’s great, living here, and it’s going fine with my father. He just left, as a matter of fact, but he’ll be back soon,” he added, noticing the mischievous looks that crossed the twins faces.

“Don’t worry, Harry, we aren’t going to do anything,” said Fred, poking his brother in the ribs. “We promise.”

Harry hoped not, he’d never hear the end of it from Severus if they did. “Good. Well, there’s plenty of stuff for us to do,” he mentioned, motioning for them to proceed him out into the corridor. “What would you guys like to do?” he asked, considering they were his guests.

“Can we get something to eat first?” asked Ron, already walking through the door and heading down the hallway towards the kitchen. “I missed lunch and I’m starving!”

Harry suppressed a snicker. Same old Ron.

“You didn’t miss lunch, you prat!” exclaimed George, jogging a bit to catch up with his little brother.

Ron looked scandalized. “I did so! If you take into consideration that the two of you, along with Bill and Charlie, ate up the entire meal! I never stood a chance!” he argued back as they turned a corner. Harry sighed as he was left alone with Fred and Hermione. The bushy haired girl was giving him a scrutinizing look, which Harry didn’t like at all.

“What?” he asked, when neither of his friends had said a word.

“Well, nothing really,” started Hermione. “You just look tired,” she added, still observing him with a significant look, expecting an answer that Harry had no intention of giving.

“Yeah, Har, you don’t look like you’ve slept a wink. Are you having bad dreams?” asked Fred, watching him with concern. Harry had to suppress another sigh. What was with everyone complaining about his sleeping habits or lack thereof?

“No, I just stayed up late reading a book,” he lied, and when Hermione gave him a shocked look, he berated himself for such a stupid lie. It wasn’t exactly common knowledge that he liked to read sometimes, but Hermione knew he didn’t do it very often. “I read!” he exclaimed when both of his friends continued to stare at him.

“Well, obviously you can read, but in your spare time?” asked Fred.

Harry threw up his hands. “When else am I supposed to read? When I’m busy?” he asked sarcastically, knowing he shouldn’t be this angry or annoyed at them just for asking about his well being. He knew it was fatigue causing him to be so irritable, but he couldn’t let the two of them know that, especially now that he’d gone to such lengths to avoid even talking about it.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Harry,” explained Fred, still looking concerned, but Harry thought there was a touch of impatience in his voice as well. Apparently his anger was getting on their nerves just as much as their constant questioning was getting on his. “It’s just that I’ve never seen you read a book unless it’s for school. And why are we even arguing about this? I was just making a point.”

Harry nodded, backing down. “I’m sorry,” he apologized and was quick to change the subject. He knew if they kept on in the same vein, he’d surely tell them the truth. “We’d better catch up with Ron and George. Cella will have a fit if she catches them in the kitchen without her knowledge. She’ll want to wait on them hand and foot and I don’t think they’ll quite understand just how pushy she can be,” he said and rushed off down the corridor, hoping they would follow him.

They did, wordlessly, but Harry knew they wouldn’t give up that easily.

Walking into the kitchen produced an interesting sight. Ron and George were seated at a table situated in the middle of the room, with Cella standing at their sides, placing plate upon plate in front of them.

“Harry Potter sir!” she yelped as she caught sight of him. “Why did not you tell me?” she asked, small hands shoved onto her hips as she tapped her foot impatiently. “I’s would have made more food!” she exclaimed. Harry, looking at all the food already on the table, thought there was more than enough already.

Ron and George were looking at him helplessly, but not all that troubled by all the food. Still, they seemed to be at a loss on how to make the house-elf stop putting so much food in front of them. Harry waved at them, indicating he would step in. Walking over to the elf, he kneeled down in front of her, and her foot tapping ceased immediately.

“Yes, sir?” she asked timidly. Harry grinned to make her feel better, as she hadn’t done anything wrong by wanting to feed his friends, even if it was in excess. She relaxed instantly and waited patiently for him to speak.

“Cella, this isn’t a party or anything,” he said quietly, and she stared at him curiously. “You don’t have to go to all this trouble, even though we do appreciate the thought,” he said. The house-elf bowed repeatedly and grasped his hands tightly in hers.

“Sir, you must have food for your party, sir,” she said quickly, indicating all the people standing in the room. “Master Severus did not speak of one, but he’s be awful disappointed in Cella if she don’t feed you properly!” she exclaimed, wringing her hands now.

Harry sighed, it was always so difficult to explain to a house-elf that he simply didn’t need this much help, and he wasn’t even having a party! Just a few friends over, and they were more than capable of fending for themselves. He just didn’t know how to explain that to Cella without hurting her feelings. Deciding it would be best if he just gave her something to do, he looked outside, trying to find something for her to do before an idea struck him.

“Do you guys want to play a quick game of Quidditch before my dad gets back? It might be the only chance we get,” he said quickly, hoping they were in the mood to play. Everyone shrugged or said ‘yes,’ and Harry grinned happily. “Good, now then…Cella, would you mind getting each of us a glass of Butterbeer for when we’re done playing? Would it be too much trouble to have it waiting for us towards the end of the game, so it will be nice and cool?” he asked, trying to think of something that would keep her busy and out of their way. “And maybe some snacks as well. It doesn’t matter what it is,” he added, and Cella eagerly agreed.

“Oh, yes sir, I’d be pleased, Harry Potter, sir!” she said excitedly before disappearing with a pop. Harry sighed with relief as soon as she’d gone and slid into an empty seat at the table currently overwhelmed with food.

Ron was quietly sniggering behind a napkin as he shoved some sort of dessert into his mouth, while Hermione looked downright scandalized. “I can’t believe you just set that poor house-elf to work, Harry Potter!” she huffed indignantly. “She’s not your slave, you know!” she went on, completely ignoring the fact that Cella enjoyed her work, enjoyed doing things for Harry Potter and his father. Hermione just couldn’t seem to understand that, hadn’t been able to, in fact, since their fourth year.

Harry decided to just ignore Hermione, as she seemed to be too upset with him at the moment to even speak with him. He glanced at Ron who only shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to say. Leading the way out the door, Harry waited a moment for Ron to shove one more piece of cake into his mouth before stepping off the back patio and onto the expansive lawn. Ron had already seen it, but Hermione and the twins hadn’t. He waited for the moment when they realized just how massive Snape manor was, outside and within.

“Damn, mate! This all belongs to your father?” asked George, standing beside him in awe. Harry smiled a bit, nodding. It was actually getting a bit old, how everyone reacted to the Manor, but he supposed there was an actual reason for it…the manor house and the land it resided on was rather vast and expressive. But, Harry being Harry, it all just seemed so superficial. There was more to him than the place he lived, and with the way everyone kept gawking at his father’s Manor, he was beginning to feel slightly put out.

Frowning, Harry started out across the lawn, not waiting or even looking if his friends were following him. He heard light running footsteps behind him but didn’t slow down. It didn’t take long, however, for Hermione to catch up with him. “Are you all right?” she asked, placing a hand on his arm to slow him down. He yanked his arm away and slowed to a stop.

“I’m fine, why?” he asked, sounding grouchy and knowing it. But, he was growing more and more tired as the day progressed and the littlest things were starting to get to him. Fred, George, and Ron had caught up to them and stood towards the side, looking curious and concerned.

“Are you sure you’re getting enough rest?” asked Fred, beginning to come closer to Harry, but the smaller boy stepped away from him.

“Would you all just stop it with the sleeping thing!” he yelled, storming away. He walked over to the new storage shed that held all their Quidditch equipment and extra brooms. Flinging open the door, he reached inside and grabbed as many brooms as he could get his hands on and threw them on the ground in front of the others, who had joined him once more. “There, get yourselves a broom and we can go and play,” he said, more gently, grabbing his firebolt from the shed, and walking further onto the pitch.

“Harry?” asked Ron, running up to his best friend.

Stopping abruptly, Harry turned and faced his redheaded friend, watching him warily. “What?” he asked, holding his broom in a sweeping action.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and by the look in his eyes and the sound of his voice, Harry knew he wasn’t going to put up with the younger boy’s spiteful ways much longer.

“Fine,” he said slowly. “Can’t we just play some Quidditch now? My dad’s going to be home soon and I’m not so sure he’d be very pleased you’re all here,” he said, indicating the twins. It was true, Severus probably would be a bit upset with him for not owling him about the extra company, but he didn’t want the twins to feel like that had to leave, but his father had only allowed him to have Ron and Hermione over, not Fred and George. And, Harry, not willing to test the waters with his father’s lenience, especially now that he was feeling more and more insecure, didn’t want to get into trouble with his dad. Now, he was almost pushing them into a game and out the door. But, he didn’t want their visit to be for naught, either. And he was so damn tired it was hard to think.

“Why do you think Snape wouldn’t want us here? Didn’t you tell him we were coming?” asked Hermione, looking a bit shocked. Harry imagined she would never go against her parents’ rules just to have friends over.

Ron had a look of fright on his face, as if Severus was going to show up any minute, but Harry couldn’t understand why he looked so jittery.

A bit indignant, Harry threw his hands in the air, “Of course I told him you were coming. But, not Fred and George. He left me by myself because he just thought it was going to be the three of us. No offense, you two, but I don’t think he’d have felt quite the same way knowing you were here,” he said slowly, hoping he didn’t hurt their feelings. But, they both seemed to completely understand where he was coming from.

“If I were a parent, I don’t suppose I would want us around without parental supervision, either,” said Fred, thoughtfully. “Especially if they knew how we were in school, which Snape does…” he trailed off, giving Harry a sympathetic look. “Would it be better if we went ahead and left then?” he asked.

Harry shot that down as soon as it was said. “No, I don’t want you to leave. Severus said he wouldn’t be back for another hour or so, and I know the village will be crowded at this hour, so it will be fine if you stay a little longer. Please, don’t think you have to leave just yet. And besides, we haven’t even started our game yet, and I want something to do! And, I will feel awful if you just leave after having come all this way,” he said, hoping to convince them to stay. He hadn’t wanted them to leave when he’d mentioned his dad coming home soon and everything. He’d just wanted to avoid the conversation they’d been heading in…but, he was a little bit worried about what his father would say, but he knew he wouldn’t get in that much trouble, would he? It wasn’t his fault they came over; he’d had no idea, in fact.

Fred sighed. “We’ll stay, but only until the game is through,” he said slowly, his eyes on his twin as he said this. George nodded his head in consent; they would stay, for Harry.

Ron walked up to his best friend as the others went and got the rest of the supplies out of the shed. “I doubt your dad will mind that they’re here, you know,” he said slowly, watching Harry with concern. The smaller boy took note of this and turned his head away.

“I just don’t want him to get mad at me or be disappointed,” he said, knowing he was revealing too much, but he was too tired to really care.

“He trusts you Harry, he won’t be mad or disappointed,” Ron said insistently.

It was nice to hear that from his friend, but it would be even better to hear it from his father. “I guess you’re right,” he said slowly, even though he was still in doubt, but he didn’t want Ron to keep on with the conversation. “Are you ready to play?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject to something Ron would be more than willing to allow.

“Sure!” he exclaimed, thinking Harry was okay, and if not, they could always talk about it later. Ron mounted his broom and flew up to where Fred and George were patiently waiting for them.

“Hermione, aren’t you going to play?” asked Harry, watching his friend get comfortable on the grass under a shaded area beneath a tree. The girl gave him an ‘you’re joking, right?’ look, which immediately shut the boy up. “Just thought I’d ask,” he said slowly, and continued to mount his own broom and fly up to his friends. “Let’s get started!” he called, and the Weasley boys all went for their positions they normally played at Hogwarts while Harry flew high above them. Once more, like the week before when Ron and he had played, they were just playing to have fun, not keeping a score at all. It would have been more interesting had there been enough people to actually have a team, but this was just as exciting, really. Sometimes, Harry even had to swoop down and perform the actions of a beater to keep Ron from getting pelted off his broom.

They had been playing for almost half an hour when Harry began to feel extremely fatigued and light headed. He desperately wanted to stop playing, but didn’t want to ruin the game for everyone else. He hadn’t even caught the snitch yet. He drifted around on his broom, not really paying attention to what was going on around him, or to where the snitch might possibly be in order to end the game. The small teen was wavering where he sat when it happened. Trying to maintain his balance, Harry was unaware of the danger approaching him in the form of a bludger, until a shrill scream from below him caught his attention.

“Harry!” screamed Hermione. Harry jerked his head in her direction, but it was too late. Just as he was turning towards the direction in which she was pointing, a bludger slammed into his shoulder. With one hand, he held onto his broom as the force of the blow nearly sent him clear off of it. The pain in his shoulder was excruciating and he was finding it very difficult to concentrate on the mechanics of maintaining his hold on the unsteady broom.

As darkness encroached from all sides, Harry began to slide off. He tried to hold on, but he was too weak and tired to sustain his hold. His fingers loosened and he felt the brief sensation of falling before he was caught in someone’s arms.

“Harry? Harry?” asked a distant voice. He glanced up into the face of the one who was holding him and realized it was Fred.

“Fred?” he whispered painfully, his shoulder feeling as if it had exploded, and his entire being growing more and more tired.

“Hang on, Harry. We’re almost there,” said another voice to his left. He saw a flash of red and knew it to be either Ron or George. Someone was still yelling somewhere below them, but Harry was too exhausted and in too much pain to care. As they finally reached the ground, Harry’s world dissolved around him.

………………………

Severus stepped from the fireplace and into his study. From the silence coming from the Manor, he assumed Harry and his friends had decided to go outside. He wandered into the kitchen and asked Cella for a cold drink. It was awfully hot outside and the village had been crowded, more so than he’d ever witnessed before. All those people in one place seemed to make it stifling. He hadn’t been able to wait to get home and had cut his visit short.

Grasping the glass in his hand, he took a long drink, relishing the feel of the cool liquid running down his throat. Much better. He set the glass down on the island in the middle of the kitchen before turning to go. But he noticed what his house-elf was doing and stopped in confusion.

“Cella?” he asked, garnering her attention.

“Yes, sir?”

“Why do you have so many butterbeers? Harry only had two friends coming over. Please don’t waste them like that,” he said, knowing that many beverages were not necessary for three teenagers.

Cella looked confused and a mite indignant. “I knows how many friends Master Harry has, Severus Snape, sir! And these drinks are less than they will be needing, sir!”

Severus stopped, raising a brow and growing more confused. “Excuse me? Just how many drinks do you believe three people need?” he asked, beginning to stalk out of the room. It was too hot to argue, actually.

“Three?” asked Cella. “There are five, sir.”

Severus stopped once more, this time in the hall outside the kitchen. He’d heard Cella and was wondering who in the hell was in his house. “Thank you, Cella. Carry on, then,” he continued slowly and walked up the stairs to the third floor. He was headed towards the library, which had the best view of the grounds surrounding his family home. Opening the doors, he quickly made his way to the balcony and stood with his hands on the elaborately chiseled veranda. He felt a moment of apprehension when he realized who the other two teens were out playing Quidditch with his son. Fred and George Weasley. The resident troublemakers of Hogwarts. Thankfully, they were no longer students at the school, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t still cause trouble. However, it was obvious Harry had kept them in line, and out of the house, thank Merlin.

Severus was about to re-enter the library when he heard Granger scream out Harry’s name. Spinning back around, he watched on in stunned paralysis as his son was hit with a bludger with enough force to practically knock him off his broomstick. With his heart slamming against his chest in fear, he felt his breath hitch and his heart skip a beat as the boy fell from his broom. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing more than a strangled moan escaped his throat as he watched helplessly from the balcony. Just as his body seemed to come under his control again, he watched with a great sense of relief as Fred Weasley caught his son in midair. He would never be more grateful than at that moment that the Weasley twins had decided to come along today. Finally, he made himself move and dashed down the three flights of stairs and out the back courtyard door.

Racing across the lawn, he reached the children just as Fred Weasley was touching down on the ground with his child hanging limply in his arms.

“Mr. Weasley?” he asked, trying desperately to maintain a calm voice. It was an extremely difficult task when witnessing your only child hurt in such a way.

“He passed out on the way down. It must hurt awfully bad to cause such a reaction, but the bludger did slam into him pretty hard,” he said, concern lacing his voice heavily.

Severus held out his arms and Fred gently passed his friend into his father’s awaiting embrace. Severus sighed once more in relief, as he finally was able to feel the weight of his son in his arms and know that he was all right, at least in a sense. He could still feel his heart beating erratically from the intense fear he had felt before. He also thought there was more to Harry passing out than from the pain alone. Berating himself for not confronting his son about his sleeping habits sooner, he quickly rushed the boy back into their home, his robes billowing out behind him.

Going directly to Harry’s room, he gently lowered his son onto his bed before turning to the nervous teens standing behind him. “Mr. Weasley,” he began, before remembering there were three Weasley’s in the room and locked his gaze with the youngest one to indicate he meant Ron. “Would you please go to my laboratory and get the healing salve. It is light blue in color and sitting on the third shelf from the top in my Potion’s cabinet. And, I daresay you know what the bone-healing potion looks like. Retrieve that as well, if you would. Do you know to which cabinet I refer?” he asked, wanting to make sure the boy knew exactly what to get. The redheaded teen had been in his lab once or twice in the week previous with Harry. If the child had any brains at all, he would remember where his Potions cabinet was.

“Yes, sir, I remember. I’ll be right back,” he exclaimed and ran from the room. Severus, ignoring the others still standing in different positions all around Harry’s bed, began to unbutton Harry’s shirt in order to have access to his shoulder. Pulling the shirt open and exposing the boy’s wound, he let out a gasp at the damage, and noticed he wasn’t the only one.

“That looks awful!” exclaimed Hermione, stepping closer to Harry’s bed, but not so close as to get in Severus’ way.

The Weasley twins were both looking grim at the harm done to their friend. It was obvious his shoulder bone had been broken, if not shattered, and a large bruise was spreading from the top of his shoulder to the area in-between his clavicle and the top of his breastbone. A moment later, the youngest redhead bolted back into the room, quickly handing the requested potions over to the Potions Master.

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley,” he said quietly, taking the items and setting them down on the bedside table. He didn’t want to, but he had to awaken Harry in order for the boy to take the Skelegrow potion. Taking his wand out of his robe sleeve, he pointed it at his son, and said, “Ennervate,”

Harry woke up with a pained groan and immediately tried to sit up. This turned out to be a bad idea, as it caused pain to flare up his entire left side. He gasped, gripping the sheets beneath him in a death grip, he was in so much pain. Severus, without further delay, gently lifted Harry’s head and poured the potion down the boy’s throat. Harry instinctively swallowed and was then lowered back onto the bed. “Dad?” he asked weakly.

“I’m right here, Harry,” he said quickly, as he took the healing salve off the bedside table and opening the drawer in the same table, took out another potion and also poured it down his son’s throat. “Drink, Harry,” he coaxed, rubbing his child’s throat when he started to sputter and nearly spit the potion back out. This particular draft of potion tasted even fouler than a normal one did. It was a pain-killing potion made specifically for the headaches Harry had started having after killing Voldemort. A variety of these potions’ vials containing the painkiller were kept in various spots throughout the house, as neither of them knew when a headache would hit Harry. They weren’t as bad as the ones he would get right before a vision, but they were bad enough to keep Harry off his feet for a few days when they did strike, if he didn’t get the potion right away. Harry had kept this information from his friends, and he wasn’t about to break the boy’s confidence by speaking of it now.

Knowing this draft was stronger he’d only allowed Harry half of the vial before replacing it in the drawer.

Harry felt the potion’s effects almost immediately and looked up at his father in relief. “Thanks, dad,” he whispered, his voice sounding particularly raw. Severus nodded, and started rubbing the healing salve into Harry’s bruised shoulder once he knew it wouldn’t cause his child any further pain. “There, does that feel better?” he asked. At Harry’s nod, and as he was finally able to sit up, Severus released the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

Stepping out of the room for a moment, Severus allowed Harry a minute alone with his friends before he ushered them out of the house, by force if necessary. They had stayed long enough, in his opinion, and his son was in desperate need of rest. Rest he was bound and determined Harry would get. It was obvious his child hadn’t been getting enough sleep, and it had been partly the cause of Harry’s accident out on the Quidditch pitch. Had he not been falling asleep on his broom, he would have noticed the bludger, he felt certain.

After a few more minutes, Severus decided it was time to send the Weasley’s and Granger home. He pushed open the partially opened door and stepped inside. All of Harry’s friends had made a place to sit on his bed, with Hermione directly beside his head, holding his hand comfortingly, all talking quietly. He momentarily considered giving them a few minutes more, but when Harry tried to hide a yawn futilely, he changed his mind.

“I believe it’s time Harry got some rest,” he said, holding the door open with his hand, waiting patiently for them to give his son a hug, and in Granger’s case, a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Feel better, Harry. We’ll try and visit you again soon, okay?” Hermione asked, speaking to Harry, but looking at Snape for his approval. He nodded in consent. She smiled brilliantly at the teenager before slipping out the door with the rest of them.

Severus escorted the Weasley’s and Ms. Granger to the Floo in his study before rejoining his son in his bedroom. Harry was struggling to stay awake; his eyes drifting shut before he’d slam them open again.

“Harry?” he questioned, startling his son. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he added, sitting on the edge of the bed, taking Hermione’s earlier seat.

“It’s okay, I just didn’t expect you to come back,” he added tiredly.

Severus frowned. Harry had been acting increasingly timid around him, especially whenever he thought he was doing something that could be construed as wrong in his eyes. And now with Harry thinking he wouldn’t return when he was obviously still in some pain, it was a bit frustrating. He knew the teenager was exhausted; it was so obvious just by looking at his face, which was pale with dark circles under his eyes, almost so dark they appeared as bruises.

“You’re not sleeping,” he said bluntly. Harry became instantly livelier at those words, sitting up and turning his attention completely on his father.

“Yes, I am,” he argued, but Severus shook his head, making Harry stop.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said softly so not to worry Harry, but with a tone that meant business. Severus was beginning to wonder if Harry’s exhaustion hadn’t left him with a feeling of uncertainty towards him. It was as if the boy was worried he’d treat him as the Dursley’s used to when he was in their care. He used the term ‘care’ lightly.

But, even with his lighter tone, Harry instantly went on the defensive. “I’m not lying!” he cried, sitting up in bed, but sliding across to the other side when Snape gave him a knowing glare.

“You know I realize you’re not sleeping, and yet still you refuse to tell me the truth. Stop denying it, Harry, I won’t stand for it any longer,” he said, looking quite stern.

Harry slumped against the far pillow, refusing to look his father in the face. “I can’t,” he whispered.

The older man leaned across the bed wanting to hear Harry better. “What do you mean, you can’t?” he asked gently.

“Sleep…” he trailed off, and Severus suddenly felt his heart skip a beat at the desolation in his son’s voice.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” he asked, his tone pleading. Harry still wouldn’t look at him and it worried him to no end.

Suddenly, Harry turned his tired face towards him and slammed an angry hand against the clothed mattress. “He won’t leave me alone!” he exclaimed. Then, just as abruptly as his anger had come, it faded, and he leaned back against his pillow, closing his eyes and pressing his palms weakly against his eyes. “Why can’t he just leave me alone?” he asked faintly.

Unable to stand his son’s anguish any longer, he climbed onto the bed and laid down beside him, pulling him to his chest. Harry tried to push him away, but he persisted, and at last the boy went limp in his arms, unable or unwilling to fight against him any longer. Carding his fingers through his child’s raven colored hair, he wondered just what haunting him. Who was this person he was referring to?

“Who are you talking about, Harry?”

Silence. Harry gripped his robes in his fists and twisted them in his agitation. Severus grasped the clenched fingers and held them in his own larger hands in an effort to calm him down. “Obviously, something is eating away at you, child, please, tell me what’s bothering you so much.”

Taking a deep breath, Harry made himself tell his father what was going on. “Ever since that day at the train station…” he trailed off once more, but at that point Severus was almost certain he knew what was causing his son such anxiety.

“You’re having nightmares about your Uncle?” he asked, and was surprised when Harry gasped. As if it had been that difficult to figure out. Although, he was rather upset at himself for not figuring it out sooner, then Harry wouldn’t have had to suffer for so long. “Can you speak of them?” he asked.

Harry shook his head emphatically. “No, I can’t,” he pleaded desperately; obviously thinking Severus would force him to. The older man sighed wishing now they’d never met Vernon Dursley at all. Look at what one meeting had done to his son.

He began lightly running his fingers through Harry’s soft hair again in an effort to calm him once more. “We won’t speak of it if you’d rather not,” he told the panic stricken boy, and with those reassuring words, the tension seemed to drain straight out of him. “But, seeing as how you’re in desperate need of rest, I believe a flask of Dreamless Sleep is in order.”

Harry had begun to tense up again at the mention of needing rest, but once he discovered he wasn’t going to be forced to dream, he relaxed yet again. Without Ron there to assist him, he had to leave Harry in order to get the potion, something he wasn’t too keen on doing when he was so upset. But, as if she’d read his thoughts, Cella appeared before him looking anxious.

“Is Master Harry all right, sir?” she asked, wringing her hands together in her small robes.

Severus was quick to reassure her, lest she grow hysterical, as she was prone to doing when it regarded her Harry. “Yes, yes, he’s fine, Cella. Just tired. Would you please get a vial of Dreamless Sleep from my laboratory?” he asked.

Cella was quick to agree and rushed out of the room after the potion. She returned a moment later with a pop and handed the vial to the Potion’s Master before giving Harry one more worried look, then she popped back out, knowing her Master needed to attend to his son without her interference.

“Are you ready to sleep?” he asked, sitting back down on the side of the bed. Harry nodded, grateful looking, as he realized he’d actually get to sleep peacefully that night. Severus handed the boy the vial and waited until he’d downed the entire contents before taking it back. “Sleep well, my son,” he said softly as Harry’s eyes drifted shut.

Once he knew the boy was good and asleep, he pulled the blankets up to his chin before leaving the room. He knew the boy would get rested tonight, but also knew this wouldn’t be the end of his nightmares, nor would he be able to constantly give him Dreamless Sleep potion. He hated feeling as helpless as he did at that moment, knowing he couldn’t stop the bad dreams from coming.