Severus looked up as his son’s godfather came barging through his door.

“Can I help you, Black?” he asked blandly. He was making another pain relieving potion for Harry, knowing they’d just about reached their limit on the ones still in various places throughout the Manor. He’d charmed the vials to alert him whenever they were empty, and as of currently, most bottles in the house were now depleted. It concerned him that Harry had been having so many headaches, some he didn’t even know about. He would speak with his son tomorrow; for now he hoped the boy was sleeping.

“I need to discuss the Malfoy boy with you,” he stated hastily, and Severus momentarily stopped stirring in his shocked surprise.

“Why on earth for?”

“I have a suspicion, but I wanted to speak with you first before coming to any conclusions,” he supplied the man, looking questioningly. “How long have you known Narcissa Malfoy?”

Severus stared, beginning to grow suspicious. “What kind of question is that? I’ve known her for years, ever since she and Lucius were married. Why?”

“Would she abandon her son?” he asked, his posture rigid and tense, as if treading on thin ice and knowing it.

Completely giving up on the potion, Severus stood and faced the man he was trying desperately not to hex. “That’s the most absurd thing that has ever come from your mouth, Black. Narcissa would rather die before leaving her son. What in the hell are you playing at?” he asked menacingly.

Sirius raised his hands placatingly. “I have reason to believe she has. Abandoned him, I mean!” he said quickly at Severus’ startled look, thinking Narcissa had died.

Severus watched the man warily, wondering what this belief was based upon. “Tell me.” He knew Sirius and Harry had gone to get his godson, perhaps the idiot Black had actually seen something while they were there.

“When we arrived, Harry and Malfoy went wandering off. I believe he was giving Harry a tour. While they were exploring, I decided to see if I could still find my way around the place. When I was younger, my parents would always take us to these really boring parties at Malfoy Manor, when Lucius was still a kid. Well, I knew my way around pretty well, so I went to the kitchens to see if there was anything I could grab to snack on while I waited for the boys,” he paused briefly at Severus’ bemused snort. “Back to the story,” he said sharply. “When I went inside it was empty.”

Severus sat quietly, waiting for the plot of the story. As no such plot was forthcoming, Severus crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Well? Do you expect the House Elves to stay in the kitchen all day? They do have chores around the Manor that Lucius and Narcissa can’t possibly do themselves, like cleaning,” he said slowly.

Sirius glared. “Not empty of people! Empty of everything! Not only were the house elves gone, there was no food, no drinks, there was nothing!” he exclaimed, looking irritated that Severus hadn’t caught on sooner. “Then I went to the Master bedroom. Same thing as in the kitchen, everything was gone! There was nothing left in the closets or in the drawers. I looked in some other rooms on my way back downstairs, anything that belonged to Narcissa or was valuable was missing. She’s left, Snape, and she’s taken everything with her that she considers valuable or that she doesn’t want her husband to have,” he sighed then. “But I think she left Draco.”

Shaking his head, Severus lowered himself back onto the work stool. “What?” he asked, either not comprehending what was said or not able to believe it. “She couldn’t have left him. She loves him. I’ve seen her dote on that boy and spoil him absolutely rotten.”

Sirius sighed once more. “Some public displays are much different from those shown behind closed doors. My mother behaved as though I was the most wonderful child while we were out in public or with her friends. When we were at home, she was sure to let me know I was a disgrace to the family name. I ran away from all of that, Malfoy might not have had that luxury. We need to check.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. I found out about this whole damn thing, now I’d like to finish it. If there’s some big mistake, and all of her things are missing because of a massive yard sale, “ he laughed at Severus’ confused look. “Muggle thing,” he told the man before jumping straight back into the story. “I’ll apologize and never say another word. But, you’ve got to admit, it’s rather suspicious, don’t you think? And, Draco said she’d be coming home tonight. Well, she would be there by now if that were true. And if not, we can’t leave the boy there without any food and nothing to drink.”

Severus groaned at the absurdity of it all. “Very well. I’ll come with you, but I highly doubt what you are thinking is true. I can’t imagine Narcissa not loving Draco. Her husband, on the other hand, I can believe it only all too well.”

The two men stood and quickly made their way to the fireplace. “I hope you’re right,” said Sirius quietly.

Severus nodded, hoping he was right as well.

……………………………….

Stepping out of the fireplace, Sirius looked around and saw Severus standing in the middle of the foyer. He was staring at the walls and beginning to look worried. “You’re right, some of the more expensive portraits are missing from the walls,” he said, indicating a blank spot on the wall before him.

Sirius nodding, frowning. He really had hoped he was wrong, but it was beginning to seem he’d hoped in vain.

“Draco!” yelled Severus. He couldn’t decide on whether to be enraged or deeply upset. He was angry with Narcissa if she really had abandoned her son, and he was upset that Draco hadn’t felt like he could tell anyone.

They both heard thudding steps rushing down the staircase and suddenly there was Draco, looking worried.

“What?” he asked, wringing his hands together. “Is something wrong?”

Severus sighed for the umpteenth time that night. “Yes, clearly, something is very wrong.”

Draco blanched. “What are you talking about?” he asked, startled.

“Where’s your mother?”

“S-she’s not home yet,” he said quickly.

Severus was decidedly unimpressed. “I’ve known you since you were an infant, Draco. Speak the truth.”

Malfoy, for his part, stared his godfather in the face, and spoke once more. “I’m not lying. She’s not home yet, perhaps she’s running late.”

“If that were the case, why have all of your priceless antiques and family heirlooms disappeared from the house, Draco? Your mother would never part with those items, and she’d certainly never take them from the house unless she no longer resided there,” he questioned his godson.

Draco looked around the room, as if just noticing what was missing. His face fell as he looked back towards Severus. “I thought she would come back for me,” he said sadly. “She came back, but not for me. For her stupid heirlooms!” he gasped out, his entire body trembling as he rushed from room to room, looking for the things she’d had taken from him, from his family. He stopped suddenly as he came across the Master bedroom. One of the rooms he’d never been allowed to enter unless asked. Raising his hand, he gently pushed the door open and stared in dismay.

He’d seen this room in all its magnificent glory while his parents were still living there. None of the wonderful artwork and furniture remained any longer. She had left him. “How could I have been so stupid?” he asked no one in particular. “She promised she’d come back.” Draco was devastated, and unable to stand any longer, slid down to the floor, continuing to stare into his parent’s empty bedchamber.

“Draco?” Severus knelt down beside the teen and placed an arm around his shoulders.

“I knew she was lying,” he blurted suddenly, but instead of sounding angry, as Severus would have expected, he remained morose. “I’ve known for a long time she didn’t want me. I was just deluding myself if I actually believed for a second she’d stay true to those words. She came back, but not for me,” he repeated.

Severus couldn’t wait a second longer and enveloped his godson in his strong arms. “I’m terribly sorry, Draco. I had no idea she treated you this way,” he whispered into his soft, blonde hair. “If I’d only known…” he trailed off, realizing they’d kept it a secret from everyone. He’d never have gotten a chance to realize what was happening behind closed doors.

“She only pretended to care about me, Severus. She never did. Neither did father. I know that now, but it still hurts,” he whispered disconsolately. He looked up and jerked as he saw another figure standing in the hallway. “What are you doing here?” he asked, knowing he was Harry’s godfather. He still wasn’t too pleased with the man standing in the shadows as he poured his heart out, thinking he was saying these things in confidence.

Sirius shrugged. “I’m the one who tipped Snape off, actually. Sorry if you were trying to keep it a secret, but this is the type of secret you shouldn’t keep. It was dangerous,” he said.

Draco stared. “Yeah.”

Sirius shrugged once more.

“Come, I’ll speak with Albus in the morning, but until then, you’re coming with us,” instructed Severus, standing from his position on the floor, as it was really beginning to hurt.

Draco was in no position to refuse.

……………………………………..

Severus put Draco in the room he normally stayed in whenever he came to visit. After dosing the teen with a healthy dose of Dreamless Sleep, he stood by the bed and observed his godson. He had been blind not to see what was happening before his very eyes. It was so obvious, looking back, how distant Narcissa had always acted around her own son. There may have been what appeared to be love in her behavior, but it had all been an act. So many years had already past with Draco growing up in a loveless home.

That thought led him directly to Harry. He wondered how the boys would react to knowing they had so much in common.

Silently shutting the door behind him, he quickly made his way to Harry’s bedroom down the hall. He felt bad now for leaving without telling the boy where he was going, but he was almost positive his son had already been deeply asleep when they’d left. But, what if he’d had a nightmare, or another headache?

Slowly peeking into Harry’s room so as not to be noticed, he made out the outline of Harry’s small shape under the covers of the four-poster bed. He was asleep and seemed to be doing so peacefully. Thank goodness. Slipping quietly into the room, he advanced on the bed and sat down in the plush armchair that sat beside it and stared at his son.

Harry was sleeping curled up on his left side, facing Severus, with his arm curled under his pillow to support his head. He looked so peaceful while he slept, and much more vulnerable. Severus reached out and gently swept a loose strand of hair out of his son’s face and tucked it behind his ear. Harry shifted in his sleep and leant into the comforting touch now lying against his cool cheek.

Smiling, Severus sat for a moment longer before removing his hand and standing up. He tucked the covers more fully around the boy’s shoulders and went to leave the room. He’d taken only a single step out the door when he heard it…a whimper. Turning back around, he sighed painfully as he watched Harry’s once relaxed form tense up and curl more deeply into itself. An agonized moan brought him to action and he was instantly at his son’s side.

”Harry?” he called gently, hoping to end the nightmare before it went into full swing. It seemed too late for that though, as Harry recoiled violently from the hand he had gently placed on his shoulder.

“No,” he moaned, pressing his head against his pillow in an attempt to protect himself from whatever he was seeing in his dream.

Severus sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed Harry’s hands. “Harry, it’s Dad. Wake up now.”

Harry wrenched his hands out of his father’s grasp and flipped onto his other side. “Leave me…alone. Please,” he gasped, his small frame shuddering violently. Severus felt his heart clench in pain.

“Harry,” he whispered, grabbing his shoulders. “Wake up.”

“Uncle, no…don’t.”

Severus nearly recoiled before realizing Harry didn’t know what he was saying. He leaned forward and pulled his son into his arms, with Harry resisting the whole way.

“NO!” he screamed, arching his back, his limbs flying wildly. Severus held on tighter, whispering reassuring words in his son’s ear, hoping he wasn’t traumatizing the poor child for life. He quickly cast a silencing charm on the room, hoping neither Black nor Draco had heard him. The potion he’d given Draco hadn’t been as strong as it normally would be, and he just might wake up if he heard Harry’s struggles.

Harry screamed again and clawed at Severus’ face. Snape quickly grabbed his son’s wrists and held them against the boy’s chest. “Harry, please!” he yelled, wrapping his free arm around the front of Harry’s chest and holding on tightly. “It’s Severus, I’m right here. I won’t allow them to hurt you! Please, child, wake up!” he talked loudly, hoping to get through into Harry’s nightmare. “I’m right here,” he whispered again as the teen’s flailing and thrashing suddenly came to an end, only to hear a heart shattering sob issue forth from his son.

Harry twisted around and buried his head in Severus’ chest, desperately trying to reign in his tears, but to no avail. Severus wrapped his arms around Harry and held on tight. “It’s all right, Harry,” he whispered into his dark hair and prayed he told the truth. He’d never seen Harry quite so distraught before. He wondered for a moment if this was the way his son had been waking up for the past two weeks. If that was the case, it was no wonder the emerald-eyed teen hadn’t been getting any sleep.

After a few shuddering breaths, Harry was finally able to speak. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he mumbled miserably. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He pulled himself away and lay down on the bed, ashamed as more tears pooled in his eyes. He looked up, surprised, to see his father was lying down beside and facing him, propping his head with his hand.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. You had another nightmare, it was not your fault,” he stated adamantly, wiping away a tear with his thumb. He considered his child for a moment. “Would you like to tell me about it?”

Harry shook his head. “Not right now.”

Severus nodded. “Do you think you could get back to sleep?”

Harry shrugged. “Probably,” he lied. He shifted uncomfortably and buried his head in the pillow beneath him.

Long, pale fingers lifted Harry’s chin. Harry’s eyes shifted nervously. “What?” he asked.

“Will you be able to sleep?” he asked once more.

It was his son’s turn to sigh. “Probably not,” he whispered. “I don’t want another one.”

“Another nightmare?” he asked, and if the boy’s head hadn’t nodded, his haunting emerald eyes would have told the truth for him. Severus had begun to slip off the bed, but watching Harry struggle to get comfortable, watching as every time his eyes drifted shut they’d snap back open to make sure he hadn’t left, he couldn’t make himself leave. He felt awful knowing the boy would most definitely have a nightmare, and he would be safely in his own bed without the hindrance of bad dreams.

Harry was lying in the middle of the large bed, his covers up to his chin, and feeling a deep-seeded, irrational fear, that his Uncle was somewhere waiting…he knew it was absurd, but the feeling had grown stronger and stronger, the nightmares more realistic and horrifying. He knew the second his father left the room the lights would be on and no more sleep would be had for the remainder of the night. It wasn’t a very appealing thought, considering he hadn’t gotten much rest in the past weeks. He was still exhausted. His eyes drifted shut of their own accord, but as he felt the bed dip as his father began to get up, they snapped open again. No matter how many times he tried to shut them, they re-opened immediately, his fear was so intense.

“Move over,” instructed his father.

Harry looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Why?” he asked, confused.

“I will stay with you until you have fallen asleep,” he stated, his tone indicating this wasn’t an option but an order. Harry was thankful for it, too. It would be entirely too embarrassing to ask his father to stay with him, at least until he’d gone to sleep. But he didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep without him. He nodded to his father and moved to the center of the bed. Severus lay down beside him and watched as Harry’s eyes finally drifted shut and remained that way.

About twenty minutes later, Severus was certain the boy was asleep and started to climb out of bed. Harry’s eyes immediately shot open and he looked as close to panic as he’d seen him in a long time.

“Harry!” he exclaimed, grabbing his arms and pulling him close. “I haven’t gone anywhere,” he thought to inform him.

“Don’t leave me, please?” asked Harry, his voice was so small and terrified Severus was beginning to grow anxious.

“What’s wrong, Harry?”

The boy refused to answer, burying his head once more in Severus’ robes. The older man raked his fingers through the raven-haired head that lay against his chest. A protective feeling came over Severus like he’d only felt when Harry was in grave danger or someone was hurting him, but couldn’t understand why. Deciding to ponder on these thoughts when he wasn’t quite so exhausted himself, he got comfortable on the bed, holding Harry with his right arm, and whispered in his ear. “Go to sleep, Harry. I won’t leave you tonight, I swear it.”

Harry nodded, and the boy’s father could feel an instant change in his posture as his body finally relaxed. Severus waited until he was absolutely certain Harry was asleep before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of his son’s head.

…………………………………………….

The next morning, Harry awoke feeling rested and content. It wasn’t a feeling he had been familiar with in a long time. He lay there for a moment, basking in his non-exhausted self before sensing a presence behind him. He stiffened before quickly rolling over, his hands balled into fists in a sudden defensive movement. He nearly fell off the bed at the sight that greeted him. Eyes wide, Harry watched his father as he slept, oblivious to the fact that his son had almost punched him.

As if a veil had been lifted from his eyes, Harry suddenly remembered every horrifying minute of last night, right up to the moment when he’d embarrassed himself totally in his father’s eyes. He sighed and placed his hands over his reddening face.

“How could I act like that in front of my own father?” he groaned to himself, trying to keep his voice low. Glancing to his side, he tried to come up with a viable reason for acting like such a pain last night. Severus had felt he had to stay with him because of his hysterics. He felt horrible; his Dad had probably stayed up forever last night just to make sure he slept peacefully. He sat up and climbed off the bed as quietly as he could manage.

Going into the bathroom, Harry stared at his reflection in the mirror. He may have gotten sleep, but he still looked like death warmed over. Turning on the faucets, Harry splashed cold water on his face. Glancing back up, the memories from his nightmare the night before began to filter into his mind and his hand nearly slipped off the sink’s basin as his knees began to buckle. Harry shook his head, clearing his thoughts, because while it may have been a horrible nightmare, his Uncle had never done something like that to him. He’d certainly remember that!

Still feeling shaky from the memory, he flipped the lid down on the toilet and sat down. He searched his memory until he had the beginnings of a mild headache, but he still couldn’t recall anything like that ever happening. A feeling of relief rushed through him and he was finally able to stand and finish getting ready for the morning.

Leaving the bathroom, he glanced at the bed and saw that it was made and that his father was no longer there. He didn’t know if he was relieved or saddened that he’d left without saying anything. But, as he stood there pondering on just that, there was a light knock on the doorframe. Turning his head, Harry saw his father standing there.

“Were you able to sleep, then?” he asked, as Harry hadn’t woken up anymore the night before.

Harry nodded his head. “Yeah, I slept great. Thanks for staying with me,” he said cautiously, still feeling guilty for making the man stay with him rather than his own bed.

“It was no problem, Harry. I would gladly do it again if it helped you,” he offered, and Harry immediately turned down the offer.

“No, I think this did the trick. I feel much better today, actually rested and everything!” he said excitedly. He didn’t want Severus to feel as if he needed him there all the time, he could handle things quite well on his own, thank you very much.

Severus smiled gently, wondering how true Harry’s statement was. “Excellent. But, just remember, the offer still stands if you were to ever need it,” he said casually. “Would you like some breakfast?” he asked, before remembering someone else would be joining them as well. “Harry, there’s something you should know.”

Harry had been so happy he’d gotten his father to believe he wouldn’t need him at night anymore that he almost didn’t notice the way his tone had changed and the words he’d just spoken. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Your godfather and I took Draco out of Malfoy Manor last night. He’ll be staying with us from now own,” he said slowly, watching Harry’s face intently for any sign of displeasure at his words. “What do you think of this?”

“Is he okay?” he asked, remembering how bizarrely he’d acted yesterday.

“He’ll be fine. There were just a few issues going on that he didn’t want known to us.”

“She was gone, wasn’t she? His mother?” he asked. He had felt how empty the Manor had seemed yesterday, cold and empty. It wasn’t hard to tell no one but Draco had been staying there.

Severus raised his brow in surprise. “Yes, she was gone,” he said slowly. “How did you know?”

“Just a guess, actually. Is he okay, though, with his mum and all?” he asked.

“As well as can be expected. I’ll let you speak with him about that matter, however. Let’s go down to breakfast, shall we?” he indicated the stairwell down the hall, and Harry took it that their conversation was over. Severus put a hand on his shoulder to steer him in the direction of the stairs, and Harry suddenly tensed at the touch.

“Harry?” asked Severus, feeling the tension in his son’s body.

Harry gently shrugged his father’s hand off his shoulder, wondering why he’d flinched like that. “Sorry,” he said regretfully. “Probably still a reaction from the nightmare,” he explained it away, to himself and his father.

Severus still looked concerned, but followed behind his son just the same. He knew he’d be checking in on his son tonight, even if Harry wasn’t aware he was there.

Down in the dining area, they discovered Sirius and Draco sitting at the table, looking extremely uncomfortable in each other’s presence.

“Hey, Draco,” he said softly, taking a seat beside him and smiling in reassurance.

Draco smiled in return, but didn’t seem entirely in his element. “Would you like some of this? It’s an omelet that Cella made, its actually pretty good,” he said, as if he’d been in disbelief just moments before. He passed a plate towards Harry and plopped a good-sized omelet onto his plate without waiting for permission. “Here, eat.”

Harry stared at Draco, a mite incredulous. “What’s with everybody shoving food down my throat?” he muttered beneath his breath. He took the plate and picked up a fork. After one bite, he had to admit it was fairly good. Eventually, he’d ended up eating half of the helping Draco had given him, while Malfoy had completely devoured his own plate.

“Good, eh? I told you so, and I’m always right.”

Harry groaned. “Wonderful,” he said, thinking to himself that with Draco around life wouldn’t be boring.

………………………………………………

At around 3 o’clock that afternoon he was surprised to hear many sets of footsteps coming down the hall to where he and Draco were sitting in the library playing Wizard’s Chess. He watched the door, wondering who it could possibly be. As the large wooden doors swung open, he heard Malfoy groan in dismay.

This could be bad, he thought to himself.

Fred and George Weasley stopped in their tracks upon witnessing Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter playing chess together, in Harry’s house. They had known Draco and Harry had been getting along with each other in school, but this was just weird. Not far behind them where Ron and Hermione.

“Hey, Harry!” greeted Hermione enthusiastically. She paused upon seeing Malfoy sitting with the boy, but continued on undeterred as he offered her a hesitant smile. “Malfoy,” she greeted casually.

Ron seemed none too pleased to see the blonde sitting with his best friend, but wasn’t going to make a scene so long as the Slytherin behaved himself. He also knew about Harry and Malfoy’s tentative friendship and wasn’t going to ruin it. If Malfoy somehow hurt Harry, then all bets were off.

The four new arrivals grabbed chairs from around other tables and dragged them to the one Harry and Draco were seated at. “Mind if we watch?” asked Ron, taking a seat beside Harry. Fred took a seat on the other side of Harry, leaving Hermione and George to sit on either side of Draco. It was obvious the blonde wasn’t too comfortable with this arrangement, but remained quiet.

It was a quiet few moments while Draco and Harry silently made their moves, with a few moments broken with Ron whispering what to do in Harry’s ear.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” yelled Draco, slamming his hand down on the table as Harry took his King, winning the game.

Harry flinched as Malfoy shoved away from the table and stalked in their direction.

“You were telling him what to do!” accused the blonde teen, shoving a finger into Ron’s chest. “That’s against the rules.”

Ron blanched at the accusation, even though it was true. “I was just helping him out! He’s absolutely hopeless at Chess!”

“That doesn’t matter! You were cheating. That game doesn’t count!” he yelled again, his face close enough to Ron’s that they were almost touching nose to nose.

“Get over it, Malfoy!” yelled Ron in return. “Nobody cares that you didn’t win one stupid game!”

Hermione stood up to get away from the fray, leaving Harry in the middle of the two enraged teenagers standing above his seated form.

“Uh, guys?” he said quietly, and hesitantly stood up. Even at full height, Harry barely came up to Malfoy and Ron’s chins, and neither was inclined to notice him at the moment. “Hey, stop fighting, you two!” he tried again, louder. Still, he was ignored. Well, since talking had failed, he put one hand on either boy’s chest and shoved them apart. “Would you two knock it off!” he yelled.

They both stared at him for all of two seconds before advancing on each other again. This time, when Harry got in the middle, they each took an arm and pushed him away.

Harry was startled when he found himself in the hold of his two friends, and even more startled when they shoved him away, causing him to fall backwards. His legs caught on a chair and he flipped over it, slamming his head against a nearby table before smacking it again on the stone floor, as the rest of his body came down on his side. The wind was knocked out of him and for a heart-sinking moment, he forgot where he was.

“Harry!” he heard someone call his name, but was in too much pain to care. Until hands were touching his side and he opened his mouth to scream, but he still couldn’t breathe. Taking in a shuddering gasp of air, he let out as much of a scream as he could, which sounded more like a strangled whimper than anything else.

Draco immediately realized what was happening; having witnessed a panic attack before with Harry while the two had been swimming. He gently moved Hermione out of his way and knelt down beside the rolled up ball of Harry on the floor. “Harry?” he asked, making sure not to touch him. “I’m sorry we pushed you,” he said in an anguished tone. “Come on, take deep breaths. You’re fine. No one here is going to hurt you,” he whispered, feeling horrible that it was himself and the Weasley prat who had caused him harm in the first place.

Finally, after many more suggestions of deep breaths and calming words, Harry began to breathe regularly, but they couldn’t get him to unwind from his balled position. “Harry, it’s okay. No one will be pushing you again, I swear it,” stated Fred emphatically, giving both his little brother and the blonde Slytherin a glare.

Fred knelt down next to the raven-haired teen and helped lift him into a seated position after Harry had finally calmed down enough to say he was okay. A glass of water appeared in Hermione’s hand and she pressed the glass to her friend’s lips. “Take a sip, Harry,” she gently intoned. “It’ll be okay now.” She also was doling out the evil looks to the two boys.

“Sorry,” he whispered, unable to look into the faces of his friends. Here he was, showing his weakness once again.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, mate. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me,” said Ron, looking equally as horrified as Malfoy was currently looking. “I’m so sorry, Harry. We didn’t mean to throw you over the chair! Merlin, I’m so sorry, Harry,” he apologized profusely, raising one hand to touch the back of Harry’s head. He’d barely touched him when his friend flinched away from him. He gritted his teeth and slowly lowered his hand. How could he have been such an idiot! They’d pushed Harry and they had hurt him!

Fred brushed past his brother and while Harry was watching him, leaned down and helped the boy to stand. “Let’s go see your dad, okay? You probably need something for this head of yours,” he said, smiling gently.

They’d gotten so far as the doors when Harry’s legs buckled and he went down screaming, holding his head in both his hands.

“Oh my god!” screamed Hermione, rushing to his side. Ron and Draco were looking at each other in horror, thinking they’d caused some kind of internal hemorrhage in Harry’s head or something equally horrifying, though neither was anywhere near correct.

Fred had grabbed Harry around the waist and swung him up into his arms. Harry was in too much pain to refuse. He was in too much pain to notice Fred running down the stairs, his friends following behind, each in turn looking frightened and worried.

Rushing down the last flight of stairs, Severus and Sirius met them in the foyer, having heard Harry’s screams from the dining area where they had still been talking about Draco’s predicament. Having heard screams from above them, they rushed out only for Severus to see Fred Weasley once more carrying his son to him.

He knew instantly what was ailing his child, and cursed as he realized he hadn’t finished making the fresh batch of pain-killing potion. He turned to Sirius. “Upstairs in my bedside table in the first drawer. Get his potion! Quickly!” he yelled, rushing Harry into his study and placing him on the couch. He knew the vial was only half-full and wouldn’t stop Harry’s migraine completely, but it would at least bring the pain down to a more tolerable level. And it wouldn’t help at all that he hadn’t gotten the potion into him immediately. Harry was in for an extremely rough night. How could he have forgotten that damn potion?

“You four, stay with Harry until Sirius returns with his potion. Tell him I’ll need him in the laboratory to help with Harry’s potion,” he barked, before striding out of the room, ignoring any questions they were throwing his way.

A moment later Sirius was running into the room and forcing Harry’s mouth open through the screams. He poured a thick looking substance into his mouth and massaged his throat to ensure it went down. As soon as he’d swallowed it completely his screams diminished to low gasps and whimpers, and finally into silence.

“Harry?” asked Sirius.

The boy looked up at him with pain-dulled green eyes. “Siri?” he whispered.

The teen’s godfather was brushing his hand through his hair when the boy suddenly groaned and grabbed his hand. “Harry, what is it?” he asked, hoping the potion would have done a better job than this.

Harry didn’t answer, but Fred did. “He hit his head upstairs, he’s got a nasty bump there on the side,” he said, brushing Harry’s hair out of the way for Sirius to get a good look.

“Sweet mother…that looks awful. How the hell did he get this on his head?” he asked, figuring this was what caused the boy’s headache in the first place. He also noticed a slight bruise forming at his temple now that his hair had been brushed back. He looked up at the four kids standing in the room, an angry questioning look upon his face. “What happened?”

Ron sighed, and Sirius noticed how upset he looked. “Malfoy and I got into a little argument, which turned into pushing and shoving. We pushed Harry away when he tried to stop us, and he fell over a chair,” he said sadly. “He hit his head on a table before smacking it on the floor as well. I’m so sorry, Sirius, we didn’t mean to hurt him. We’d never hurt Harry.”

Sirius sighed, knowing they hadn’t done it on purpose, but angry just the same.

“Professor Snape wanted you to help with Harry’s potion, Sirius,” interrupted Hermione quietly.

Sirius sighed, nodded, kissed Harry gently on the forehead and went to join Severus in the laboratory.

After Black had disappeared out the door, Harry’s friends surrounded him around the couch. “Are you all right?” they asked, almost as one.

Harry nodded, but instantly regretted it, as the pain in his head intensified for a minute, causing him to grip his hands in the cloth of the couch and slam his eyes shut.

“Harry?” asked Fred, anxiously. He felt a hand on his forehead, but was in no condition to knock it away. And despite that, it felt cool against his heated skin.

“I’m okay,” he finally managed to whisper as the pain receded once more to a bearable level.

“D-did we cause your headache?” asked Ron, sounding and looking miserable.

The emerald-eyed teen frowned. “I don’t think so, it might have played a factor,” he whispered hoarsely, “but they usually hit whenever they feel like it.”

His friends sat around him silently, letting his news sink in. “They usually hit whenever they feel like it?” asked Hermione, curious as to what he was talking about.

Harry groaned, realizing his mistake after he’d already made it. “They’re just headaches,” he said lightly.

“Headaches that cause you to fall to the floor and scream your head off!” exclaimed George, still looking pale from the experience upstairs. “What’s going on, Harry?”

He sighed, resigned to his fate. “We’re not sure. We think it’s some kind of left over effect from my connection to Voldemort. They’re not as bad as the ones I used to have with his visions,” he was quick to reassure at his friend’s horrified looks, “but they’re bad enough and frequent enough that my dad makes a specialized formula for them.”

“How often do you have them?” asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged, counting the amount up in his head. “I don’t know. They haven’t been too frequent, I suppose, but at least once a week.”

“Does this potion help that Professor Snape is making?” asked Ron, sitting down on the floor now.

“Yes, it takes away the pain instantly, but with only half a vial, it still hurts my head if I move around too much. I feel really sick to my stomach, actually,” he was quick to wave off his friends as they all jumped up wanting to help him. “If I move, I’ll really sick up. It will be easier just to stay where I am and hope nothing comes up,” he said slowly.

Hermione nodded her head and transfigured a big yellow bowl out of a paper holder from Severus’ desk. “Just in case,” she said, setting it beside the couch. The Weasley’s were looking at her like she’d lost her mind, but Harry knew what the bowl was for. When Dudley had been sick when they were younger, Aunt Petunia used to put him on the couch with a bowl on a tray beside him, so he wouldn’t have to get up and go to the loo if he couldn’t make it, and fussing over him hand and foot. Of course, when Harry had been so sick he was vomiting, they’d just shove him in the upstairs toilet and tell him if he made a mess he’d better clean it up.

A few minutes later Severus and Sirius came back in with a steaming goblet in one of his father’s hands. “Drink this, Harry,” he said soothingly, seeing the pinched look on his son’s face, knowing he didn’t feel well at all.

Harry swallowed the concoction down, gagging a few times, but finally it settled and he began to feel so much better. “Thanks, Dad,” he said tiredly. His headache was gone, but not totally. If they waited too long to give him the potion, a deep pain would settle just behind his eyes, causing Harry enough pain that it was nearly impossible to get anything done, but not enough to pass out on the couch if he wanted to, which he didn’t. Going to sleep meant more weird dreams, of which he wasn’t in any mood to have.

……………………………

Before the Weasley’s and Hermione had left that evening, Severus had pulled Draco and Ron into his study and shut the door behind him. That had been an hour ago. Harry was now in his bedroom with his father and his godfather.

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep with that headache?” asked Sirius, standing beside the bed as Severus had already taken the spot sitting beside Harry.

Harry shrugged. “I’ve managed it before, so probably,” he answered truthfully.

“Can he have a Dreamless Sleep potion?” asked Sirius.

Severus shook his head. “No, it’s not a very good idea to mix potions with this one in his system. It’s highly potent,” he informed Black, as Harry already knew the consequence of taking any type of potion on top of the painkiller. He wished it weren’t so, however, as he was fairly confident there would be more nightmares for his son this night.

Sirius nodded, giving Harry a sympathetic look. “Sorry, kiddo.”

“It’s all right. I might not have one, considering how much my head hurts. I usually don’t, actually, with these headaches, as the pain is usually all encompassing,” explained Harry.

Severus hoped that was true. And as Sirius gave Harry a quick hug and left the room, he made himself more comfortable on the side of his bed.

“Sirius told me what happened earlier in the library,” said Severus suddenly, causing Harry to look up at him.

“I assumed he had, considering you pulled Ron and Draco into your study before the Weasley’s and Hermione left,” he said in answer.

“True,” he said softly. “Draco said you had a panic attack?”

Harry lightly cursed, hoping he hadn’t said anything to his father about that. “Well, just for a moment. Draco calmed me right down, I swear.”

“I have no doubt in Draco’s abilities to calm you, I am however, concerned that you had one. I understand you hit your head twice on the way to the floor,” he paused here, thinking back to the past. Then his brows raised in understanding. “What was the flashback about?” he asked gently.

Harry cursed again. He knew. “Dillard,” he muttered, but knowing the man would hear him.

Severus sighed. “Which time?” he asked carefully.

Harry looked at him, pleading with his eyes for him to just let it drop. When Severus took his hands in a reassuring way, he dropped his head, knowing he wouldn’t win this battle. “The first time.”

“We never really discussed the first time, did we?” he asked.

Harry shook his head. “No, not really,” he affirmed.

“What happened?”

Harry sighed again and shifted in the bed, turning his head away from his father. “He grabbed me and shook me before pushing me into the chair behind me. I fell and hit my face on the floor,” he shrugged. “So yeah, today reminded me of it.”

Severus growled low in his throat, but reigned in his temper. There was nothing he could do for it now; Dillard was in Ministry hands now, never to be seen again.

“I can see how the incidents were very similar,” he said, rubbing a hand across his face. He groaned into his hands, thinking back on all the times someone had hurt his son and felt the rising anger once more before shoving it back down. But this had truly been an accident. Draco and Ron would never intentionally hurt Harry, never.

“I’m tired, Dad. Do you mind if I get some rest?” he asked, sliding down under the covers. He let Severus pull them up to his chin and tuck him in.

“Do you need me to stay tonight?” he asked, wondering if the turn of events would cause him to change his mind.

“No, I’ll be okay. I need to sleep on my own anyways,” he said softly. Harry looked as if he’d rather Severus stay but wouldn’t allow himself the comfort, or maybe it was something else. Needless to say, he asked once more just to be certain.

“Are you sure you’d rather not have me stay?” he asked, trying to mask the worry he felt.

Harry immediately shook his head in a firm denial. “No thanks, I’ll be fine,” he stated emphatically. Severus didn’t know who he was trying to convince more.

“If you’re certain?” he tried again.

“Yes, Dad, I’ll be fine. It’s really late and I’d like to get some sleep,” he said suddenly. “And I’m sure you’d like a good night’s sleep in your own bed?” he added. He still felt guilty about that, making his father stay with him all night!

“If you insist.”

“I do,” said Harry.

“Very well. But remember, if you need me do not hesitate to come for me,” replied Severus, knowing the boy would not, but trying nonetheless.

“Okay.”

“Good night, Harry,” sighed Severus, and he bent down to lightly kiss the hair atop the boy’s head. He smiled when he didn’t flinch as he had earlier. “Sleep well.”

“You too, Dad.”