Harry Potter, the youngest Triwizard champion in history, sat in front of the large mahogany desk in Headmaster Dumbledore's office. Glasses too small, shoes big, and hands fiddling nervously with the edge of his robe, Harry was waiting awkwardly for Dumbledore to return after speaking with the three real champions.

It had been about an hour ago when the Goblet of Fire had spit out his name from its magical flames. Poor Harry, dumbfounded and confused, was whisked from the Great Hall with all of its accusing stares by Dumbledore and now sat in his office, given instructions to stay put until the Headmaster had returned.

Harry's eyes stung slightly as he remembered Ron's betrayed stare and the condemning force from of every Hogwarts student that had been eligible to compete in the tournament.

But he hadn't put his name in, he tried to tell them. I didn't put my name it!

Harry let his head slump forward, only to snap it back up as the door to the office creaked open.

Dumbledore, along with a very irate Professor Snape, entered the room. Dumbledore swept forward and perched on the front of his desk facing Harry.

"Please have a seat, Severus." Dumbledore chuckled, eyes twinkling and gesturing towards the second chair beside Harry. "There's no need to be looming above us, might as well be comfortable."

Snape lowered himself into the chair silently, glaring all the while at Harry, as though it was his fault in the first place that Dumbledore was making him sit.

Dumbledore turned his eyes back to Harry and examined him through his half moon spectacles. "Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry's hand worried at his robes even more and shook his head.

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly and gave a concerned expression. "What's wrong, my boy?"

"I-I didn't put my name in." Harry whispered, frightened at the prospect of being condemned for something he didn't do. Sirius' imprisonment came eerily into his mind's eye. "I swear it, Professor. I didn't put my name into the Goblet... you have to believe me!"

"Of course I believe you, Harry." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "I have no doubts that you wouldn't be able to put your name in because... if I do say so myself, my charms are quite foolproof."

Harry stared blankly at Dumbledore. "You believe me?"

"Certainly!" said Dumbledore, folding his hands in his lap.

"But- but how can you be so calm about this!" Harry said frantically, his thoughts chasing each other at a dizzying rate, "You said it yourself, people die in this tournament! I'm not brave or clever like the other champions... I never asked for this!"

Harry was dimly aware that it was becoming hard to catch a breath. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and the room seemed to slide out of focus.

"Severus!" said Dumbledore sharply.

Harry felt his head being tipped back slightly, and a hand came up to massage his throat into swallowing a sour liquid. Snape loomed in front of him, his eyes searching Harry's.  Harry suddenly realized his chair had been swiveled around to face Snape's. Dumbledore was surveying him with concern.

"Get a hold of yourself, Mister Potter." Snape sneered at him, sliding the potion bottle back into his robes. "Nothing is going to happen to you."

"Professor Snape is quite right, Harry." Said Dumbledore, sliding off the desk and kneeling next to Harry's chair. "Now, I believe that it's high time you got some rest. I've already informed Madame Pomfrey that you will staying the night, and my door or any other Professor's," he glanced at Snape, "will be open should you wish to talk. Use my fireplace to get to the infirmary."

Harry, who had finally regained his senses, nodded dumbly and glanced over at Snape. Green flames leapt up in the grand stone fireplace at his words, and Harry took that as his signal to leave.

"Thank you sir." Said Harry in a defeated sort of voice, before he was whirled up in the fire and disappeared.

Dumbledore sat in the chair that Harry had occupied and pierced Snape with a determined stare.

"Severus."

Snape straightened. "Yes, Headmaster."

"Watch over him during this tournament." Dumbledore said, leaning back slightly. "You don't have to be open with him, but please keep watch. Something isn't right... something is missing from the puzzle."

"Of course, Albus." Snape said, his black eyes staring at the crackling fire.

"Thank you."

Hogwarts did not sleep well that night.

Harry felt slightly sick as he stared blankly at his eggs and marmalade. His green eyes glanced up surreptitiously at Ron who arguing with Hermione about some Transfiguration assignment, before dropping back down to his plate again. Hermione was separating Ron and himself on the bench of the Gryffindor table that morning. Ron wasn't speaking to Harry, blinded by injustice of the Goblet of Fire's decision; both boys were now having a fall out.

Harry had never felt so alone.

But that wasn't the worst of Harry's problems. Last night Harry had traveled into the Forbidden Forest, accompanied by Hagrid and hidden under an invisibility cloak. And what had he seen? Dragons. A dragon was to be the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.

Bloody Dragons! Harry thought with despair. How the hell am I supposed to fight off a bloody Dragon?

Harry's hand shook a bit as he reached for a bit of strawberry jam to spread on his toast. The knife slipped from his fingers as Fred gave a rather raucous laugh, and slit his palm.

"Damn it!" Harry hissed.

The entire end of the Gryffindor table turned and watched as Harry swore and mopped at his hand with a napkin.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, darting forward and taking his hand.

Harry colored in embarrassment, and tugged his hand away. "It's alright, Hermione."

"Go to the up to the Hospital wing." Hermione said, drawing back and seeming a bit put out. "I'm sure you'll be fine in time for Defense."

Harry jerked his head and got up off the bench, leaving the Great Hall and all the accusing stares behind. He could feel Ron's especially, burning into the back of his head. Harry swallowed a lump in his throat and hurried into the vast Entrance Hall.

About to make his way to the Gryffindor dormitory, Harry stopped dead as he came face to face with Snape at the bottom of the stairway.

"Potter."

"Sir."

Snape glared at Harry before his eyes traveled downwards and came to rest on the slit that marked Harry's hand.

"My, my, my. How clumsy of you, Potter. It seems as though you've been basking in the limelight once again." Snape sneered, while Harry simmered in the beginnings of anger. "No, being the youngest Triwizard champion doesn't seem to be enough anymore... need to make a spectacle of yourself to gain attention. Tut tut."

Harry, who thought that a bleeding hand hardly constituted as ‘spectacle,' spoke through his gritted teeth. "It was accident, sir."

Snape heaved a long-suffering sigh, and vaguely gestured at Harry. "Come with me, Potter."

Harry hesitated and Snape gave him another glare. "Today would be appropriate, Potter!"

That got Harry moving, and soon he was following the sweeping hem of Snape's robes as he lead him up the staircase and then down a corridor into an unused classroom.

Snape pointed at a random chair, "Sit." He ordered, before turning away and shutting the door.

Harry watched in apprehension as Snape took out his wand and cast a bunch of difficult looking spells and then turning back to Harry. He approached the nervous student and eyed him with disdain.

"Let me see your hand."

Harry's eyes darted to Snape's face and back to his hand again, "It's really nothing, sir... I can handle it."

"As predictable as your bravery is," Snape sneered at him, surprisingly not just grabbing Harry's hand himself. "I would prefer you to have real medical attention instead of using your sleeve as a bandage."

Harry looked down in embarrassment. That was exactly what he had done; there was now a spot of blood on his robes.

Harry hesitated one moment further and then stuck out his hand for his Professor to see. Snape took his hand and examined the mark with furrowed brows. The slice was clean and not at all deep. Snape took out his hand and muttered an incantation under his breath while gently prodding the wound. There was a warm glow of red light and then the cut was gone.

Harry tugged his hand closer to himself, and looked up gratefully at his foreboding Professor. "Thank you, sir."

Snape gave a sharp nod, and then seemed indecisive about something for a moment. "Well... it would not do for you to go to Defense with a blood hand."

That was a bit off topic, but Harry nodded nonetheless. "Yes, sir."

Snape hesitated briefly before sitting on top of a student's desk beside Harry.

"Speaking of Defense Against the Dark Arts," Snape said sourly, "I don't recall, Lupin, ever educating you thoroughly on Dragons."

Harry's heart gave a jolt and he stared at shock at his Professor. Did he know about-?

"I don't think so, sir."

"Erm-" Snape was actually flustered! It would have been hilarious had the situation not been so serious. "Yes, well... Dragon's are very protective of their young."

Harry nodded dumbly; this seemed to make Snape come back to himself a bit.

"Well!" Snape snapped briskly. "Dragons are notoriously difficult to deal with, even in a controlled setting. Their eyes are virtually the only weak part about them, but even though they have a mighty wing span, Dragons can be quite clumsy in the air."

Snape have Harry a pointed look.

Harry's mind was racing with the information he had just been told. Was Snape trying to help him?! It seemed impossible... and yet....

"Thank you, Professor." Harry said, "I never knew any of that."

Snape glared at him again and then went to the door of the classroom and opened it.

"Just educating the inept, Potter." He looked about to leave before he leveled a piercing stare at Harry.

"Be careful at the First Task, Potter. Dragons will be the least of your problems if you aren't."

Snape left and Harry was left to stare numbly at the door.

Harry Potter survived the First Task. Somewhere in the castle, a Professor slept soundly that night.

Harry didn't quite know what to do with the egg that he had won in the previous task of the Triwizard Tournament. Lacquered with gold, the dragon's egg made an awful earsplitting screech if one so much as slid a nail into opening crack. Supposedly, this was the clue that needed to be cracked in order to successfully participate in the second task... as it was; Harry Potter wasn't doing so well with the puzzle.

Thus, this was the reason why Harry was wandering the halls of Hogwarts in the middle of the night, clad in pajamas and invisibility cloak, unable to sleep. It wasn't his fault... really. For the past several nights Harry would go to bed, exhausted from meetings with the other champions and the overly large pile of homework assigned, only to find him self awoken by a strange dream of Voldemort-sweaty and full of shivers. This previous time was the first that he had retched after, though.

Harry shivered and clutched the egg in the left crook of his arm while the other hand gripped his wand. The castle was drafty at night, and Harry had forgotten his slippers in the rush to leave the fourth year dormitories. Groaning silently to himself, Harry tried to think of a place where he could just relax for a while... maybe even sleep. He was pretty much set on adjourning back to the Gryffindor Commons when a boot click echoed through the hall.

Harry froze and watched as Snape turned the corner, his wand out and lighted at the tip.

Damn it!

Harry hurriedly moved to crush himself against the left hand wall, but only succeeded in loosing his clumsy grip on the dragon egg. He watched in horror as it crashed to the ground and the rolled lazily toward Snape. The icing on the cake came when it ominously clicked open and then started it's wailing screech... like giant nails on a blackboard, only a thousand times worse.

Snape sneered at the egg and swooped down to pick it up. The wailing stopped as suddenly as if had begun and the remnants of the sound echoed through the corridor.

Harry cringed slightly at the murderous look on Snape's face and backed himself further into the wall, wishing that it would swallow him whole and transport him to the safety of his Common Room.

Snape looked malevolent as his eyes darted around the hall and then finally rested where Harry was standing.

"Accio Invisibility Cloak."

He tried to hang on, he really did! The cloak was ripped from his grasp, leaving Harry completely revealed and not just a bit mortified. Snape looked ready to kill someone, namely him.

"Potter." Snape spat at him, walking up to Harry. His black boots clicking ominously on the flagstone. "It would seem that it is past curfew, is it not?"

Harry gapped at Snape and tried to come up with a plausible explanation. Nothing was coming to mind at the moment...

"Sir, I was just... um..."

Snape sneered at him and clenched his fist on the cloak in his hand, his eyes were fixated on Harry. He was in serious trouble.

"It may or may not have escaped your notice, Mister Potter, that you are a prime target at the moment." Snape snapped at him. "This," Snape shook the cloak under Harry's nose, "is not by any means a sufficient source of safety to you!"

"I'm sorry, sir. I was-"

"Oh, you're sorry, are you?" Snape sneered, tossing the egg back at him (Harry caught it just in time to avoid it smashing into his nose.) "Potter, I would suggest no more nightly wanderings. If I find that you are, you will be serving detention with me ever Saturday of the school year. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry nodded dumbly. Was he actually getting away from Snape without a detention?

Snape stared at him shrewdly before speaking again.

"Why are you shivering, Potter?"

Harry realized with a jolt, that he wasn't wearing his slippers and that with the cloak gone he was quite cold. Harry cleared his throat.

"I'm just cold, sir."

Snape heaved a large sigh before turning the cloak in his hands inside out and draping it around Harry's shoulders. He gave a flick of his wand and Harry found that his pajamas were now radiating a soft heat.

"Sir?"

"Go back to your dormitory, Potter." Snape said. He seemed to gaze at the egg for a few moments before his stare snapped back to Harry's face.

"Take a warm bath for the chills... you might as well take the egg with you."

Harry nodded and turned to leave. His eyes flickered briefly towards Snape.

"Um... thanks, sir."

Snape sneered at him again. "Do not let me catch you out of bounds at night again, Potter. You will wish you'd never heard of Hogwarts if you do."

Harry gulped at that and hurried back toward Gryffindor Tower.

It so happens that the egg clue was solved by each of the champions for the second task, even the youngest champion of Hogwarts. Harry Potter was awarded points for merit, but one Professor knew that the celebration wouldn't last forever...

It was the eve of the Third Task in the Triwizard Tournament. A warm night, it was almost sickly the way the humidity made one's skin stick together in fleshy folds while the action of breathing made you feel like you were inhaling water instead of oxygen.

But despite these conditions, thousands of people (students and teachers alike) were all crammed tightly into the stadium facing a gigantic maze... one that seemed to stretch on for kilometers at a time.

The youngest Triwizard Champion, Harry Potter was now seated on the bench beside the judge's panel alongside the other older champions. His glasses were collecting moisture from his sweaty brow and green eyes were darting to and fro, glancing ever so often at the audience that had gathered to watch the historic event. Beside him was Cedric Diggory, the rightful champion of Hogwarts. Cedric's father was wedged on his son's other side, giving encouragement and advice. Mr. Diggory's expression was one of pure delight, excited and proud that his son might compete in this famous experience.

Harry's eyes shifted to watch the Diggorys. His eyes darted away quickly, trying to suppress the little voice inside of him that cried out silently for someone to give him some comfort, a reassurance that he would make it through this damned maze. Harry had been quite surprised when the Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had turned up, but it just wasn't the same. They belonged to Ron... not him.

Professor Dumbledore strolled down the green towards the champions, his glasses glinting in the torchlight. His eyes, normally twinkling merrily, were now hard and piercing. Harry gulped and wiped his sweaty palms surreptitiously on his robes.

"Good Evening, Champions." He said solemnly.

All of the Champions sat a little straighter. Fleur stopped flipping the ends of her hair.

"Congratulations on making it this far into the tournament. In the next fifteen minutes you are able to say goodbye to your families and accept wishes of good luck. I urge you to take advantage of this opportunity, no matter what form your family takes."

Harry, whose insides had been sinking slowly throughout the entire speech, now looked up warily to meet the confused stares of the other champions.

"Good Luck to you all." Dumbledore gave them all a slight smile and briefly caught Harry's gaze, he winked. "Mr. Bagman will be in soon to explain the rules."

Dumbledore left the Champion area.

Cedric went back to talking with his father and the other champions to their teachers. Harry curled farther into himself and stared blankly at the grass in front of him. The cheers of the crowd seemed to have grown louder after Dumbledore left them. A sense of loss stole over him and Harry blinked away some wetness in his eyes.

Always alone... Harry still didn't know who had put his name in the Goblet, but he had the feeling that his entry had more than purpose. It wasn't only to kill him, but to isolate him... make him feel alone.

And it's working, damn it! Harry thought, close to panic. Haven't they had enough already?

Harry glanced over again at Cedric and his dad, feeling a foreign sense of utter loss wash over him. He jerked suddenly to his feet, the feelings to just vanish overwhelming him. He stumbled a few feet to the small indent in the hedges, where Madame Pomfrey would be caring for the injuries that would undoubtedly happen. Harry glanced briefly over the four cots already lined up, each with a wall of greenery in between them, and lurched to the farthest bed.

Harry sat down and balled his hands into his robes again, his breath became ragged and short. Maybe if he just stayed here long enough, they would all forget about him? He didn't want this... any of this! Why could they all just leave him be... Dumbledore making him participate, Bagman and his unfair attention, Rita Skeeter and her hurtful words...

... Voldemort, for taking away the only family he ever had.

He realized dimly that the cubical was now swimming dangerously in front of his eyes and that breathing was a much more difficult task than it should have been. Now that he mentioned it... where the hell was he?

"Potter!"

Harry's eyes dart to a dark shape that was running towards his bed. Bed? Since when was he on a bed? Wasn't he on the bench?

Harry barely had time to see a hooked nose and black eyes before an icy hand grabbed the back of his neck and abruptly forced his head between his knees. He tried to lift it up, but the hand was persistent and kept a firm hold on him.

"Breathe, Potter! It's all right, just breathe. Are you listening to me? Do as I say, boy. Breathe... in, out, in, out... good, Potter."

Harry listened to the soothing rhythm of the voice and ever so slowly his breathing returned to normal. He closed his eyes and tried to lift his head again, but the hand still kept his head locked firmly between his own knees.

"Just stay still for a moment, Potter." A cold voice drawled.

Harry froze. He knew that voice.

But why was Snape here? A sudden humiliation stole over him and Harry closed his eyes, only to have them shoot open again as another freezing hand came around and pressed against his clammy forehead. He leaned into it unconsciously.

"A bit warm." Snape muttered to himself. "Potter? Are you with me?"

Harry nodded slightly, and winced immediately as the action started a pounding in his head. The cold hands slowly helped Harry sit upright, and he was then staring straight into the Snape's serious, pale face.

Snape's eyes bored into his own for a few moments before the he withdrew his hands from Harry's neck and forehead. Harry swayed slightly and Snape's hands immediately locked around his arms to keep him from pitching forward.

"Just come to yourself for moment, Potter."

"Yes, sir." Harry said, faintly.

Snape picked up his wand from beside Harry on the bed. How had that gotten there? Snape flicked it in a smooth upward motion and a little vial came hurtling from within the far hedge in the sectioned area. Snape uncorked it quickly and held it to Harry's lips.

"Drink it slowly." Snape commanded him. "You'll be sick all over, otherwise."

Harry drank the potion, with no small amount of apprehension, before he felt a wave of cool calm wash over him. Snape surveyed him and put the vial into a pocket of his robes. Snape let go of his arms and stood up, muttering something under his breath.

"Potter, why are you in here?" Snape asked him, his tone hard with just a slight underlining of... concern.

Harry cleared his throat nervously and went to stand up, it made him nervous to be sitting while Snape loomed over him. At once, the world slid crazily to one side and Snape once again took a hold of him and settled him back on the bed.

"Don't stand up, you foolish boy!" Snape snarled at him, "You've just had a panic attack for Merlin's sake!"

Harry could feel the confusion wearing out now, and feel his sense return to him slowly. He stared up at Snape, who was currently studying his eyes.

"No more dilation in the pupils..." Snape muttered to himself.

"What are you doing here, sir?" Harry asked, thoroughly creeped out that Snape was this close to him. Harry could see each greasy strand growing from Snape's head.

"What am I doing here?" Snape snarled, "Me? Have you hit that overly large head of yours? Has it occurred to you that the third task not just five minutes from beginning?"

Harry's stomach lurched as he remembered the reason he was here in the first place. The third task. Dangerous beasts, hidden challenges, no help from anyone.

"I'm gonna be sick..." Harry slurred.

"Oh no you're not!" Snape snapped at him, and shoved another potion under his nose.

Snape wasn't very patient with Harry this time, and the potion was practically forced down his throat. Harry gagged it down as best he could and the unsettled feeling in his stomach disappeared within seconds.

"Now, why are you here when you should be prancing onto your field of glory?" Snape asked him sourly; he looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else than sitting next to his least favorite student.

"I- I'm sorry, sir." Harry whispered bleakly, his shame crawling over him for being caught.

"For what?" Snape said.

Harry, now embarrassed as well as ashamed, ducked his head slightly.

"Look at me when I am speaking, Potter!"

Harry's head snapped back up and looked straight into Snape's onyx eyes.

"I just had to get away... there wasn't anyone there." Harry whispered.

Snape's eyebrows raised a fraction. "The entire school and half of Wizarding London were in those stands, Potter."

"No one for me." Harry clarified, realizing belatedly that this was a very selfish thing to say. "I don't have family to-to want me to succeed."

"Forgetting the Weasleys, are we?" Snape said, looking for all the world like kind words towards the Weasleys were costing him expensive potions ingredients. "They didn't have to come, Potter."

"I know!" Harry said quickly, "I just meant that, well, no one is there that would..."

Snape was looking at him like he thought Harry was loosing it. He sat down besides Harry on the bed and looked at him for a moment. Snape cleared his throat softly.

"Contrary to your belief, there are many people that are wishing you well, Potter." Snape said, "A parade of numerous admirers are in those stands right now."

Harry managed a small smile; "I doubt they're all there for me, sir."

"You'd be surprised."

Harry was full out beaming now, and a sudden recollection of everything Snape had done for him during this tournament came swimming in front of his eyes.

"Thanks sir."

Snape glared at him, "A word of this to anyone, Potter, and you'll be skinning shivelrigs with me until you graduate."

Harry nodded slightly. They both knew what he had meant. You're welcome.

"Now, we should be getting back to the Champions circle." Snape said, "Everyone will be wondering where their hero has gone."

Both men got up and made their way back to the opening in the hedges.

"Sir." Harry said suddenly, "How did you know where I was?"

Snape scowled to himself, "I thought you were following Moody to the back entrance of the maze. He was placing the cup inside."

"Oh."

"I heard you panting." Snape said lightly. "I should have known you'd be too noble to cheat."

Harry smiled to himself and watched as Snape swept passed him to the teachers stands. It was time for his last task... and this time he knew that at least someone was watching him.

The third task ended in disaster. Cedric Diggory had been murdered and Harry Potter was now burdened with another destiny. A professor felt their mark flare.

Peace had ended at Hogwarts.

“He’s back… Voldemort, he’s back.”

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore turned away from the pensive and closed his eyes tiredly, glancing at the tall imposing figure that stood just behind him. He took his wand from the sleeve of his robe and carefully lifted the silver memory strand to a white haired temple. Dumbledore sat down heavily in the large chair behind his desk and looked up.

“Severus, you felt it burn?”

Snape stepped out of the shadows and towards the mahogany desk, unbuttoning the sleeve of his robe as he did so. He rolled it up to reveal what would have been a black skull… but it was instead inflamed, an angry red that was weeping pus around the edges.

“He’s been calling for hours now, Albus. What do I do?” Snape said quietly, the only indication that he was in any pain was the slight tensing of his jaw as the mark seemed to pulse on his very skin.

Dumbledore sucked in a quiet breath and moved his eyes from the mark to stare back into his colleague’s back eyes.

“You should not go back, Severus. You’ve been missing for hours from this meeting, he will be suspicious… you may not come back.” He said, boring into Snape’s gaze.

Snape glanced away and unrolled the sleeve from his forearm, buttoning it neatly around his wrist before striding purposefully towards the office door. He took twisted the handle and looked back at Dumbledore with a hard gleam in his eye.

“I promised you I would do everything for the side of the Light, Headmaster. I will continue until the bastard is forever dead and gone. You know I must go back.”

Dumbledore closed his eyes in regret, “I don’t want to ask this of you.”

“Then don’t.” Snape said, opening the door.

“Severus.”

Snape turned back around, eyes solemn and his hand clutching the doorknob, “Yes.”

“Go to the hospital wing and take the emergency potions kit… you remember how. Carry it with you and take the portkey.”

Snape nodded and walked out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

Albus Dumbledore hung his head.

“Good Luck, Severus.”

For the first time in his life, Harry Potter felt like he could cry. Just curl up into a little ball in the corner of his hospital cot and hide from the world that seemed to have no end of tragedy for him to endure. Harry was dressed in the standard pinstriped hospital pajamas and lay, snuggly tucked, into the farthest bed from the infirmary doors. He was shaking too… whether from cold or shock, he didn’t know.

What Harry Potter did know was that he was alive while his classmate, fellow Hogwarts champion, and friend, was dead.

Harry let out a choked sob and felt as though the uniform walls of the hospital wing were closing in on him. It seemed like the night’s events were finally registering to him, the terror of being transported by portkey, landing in a graveyard, watching Cedric Diggory be killed, and tied to a gravestone while seeing Voldemort’s rebirth.

Harry wiped harshly at the tears that had some how escaped from his tightly closed eyelids and sucked in a rasping breath. Damn it all! Why was he crying? Like some selfish, overemotional first-year! Harry drew in another shaky breath.

Why wasn’t there any one there to save him? No one ever came to save Harry… it was always Harry that saved the day. God, how many times had he wished to just be a normal student? Was it too much to ask for someone to care? Harry gave a particularly violent sob that echoed through the infirmary. It was no use; he’d always been alone. Alone…

“Potter?”

Harry yelped and fell off the right side of the bed as a voice sounded out suddenly from the hospital wing entrance. Harry moaned quietly as his nerves screamed out in pain and his arm took the brunt of the fall, jarring his shoulder.

And then suddenly, he wasn’t on the ground anymore. Surprisingly strong arms wrapped around him and deposited him back on the bed and Harry could see who had lifted him. It was Professor Snape.

Harry stared, wide eyed and tears forgotten, as Snape gave him a look and then swished his wand, making the bed covers rise from the ground and tuck themselves around Harry, tight as a straight jacket.

Snape eyed him for a moment before crossing his arms and speaking.

“You know, Potter, the object of the Infirmary is for you to get better not worse.”

Harry stared down at the bedcovers and clenched a bunch in his fist. His glasses slipped down his nose before he raised a shaky hand to push them back up. “Sorry, Sir.”

Harry heard a sigh and then a hand suddenly touched his hand and wiped the moisture off his face. Harry stiffened and then darted a glance at his Professor. The bed dipped as Snape sat beside Harry and he heard a whoosh of air being let out in frustration.

“There’s no use crying about it, Potter.”

Harry sniffled and was forced to look up when a finger hooked under his chin. Snape was looking at him with such intensity that he nearly lost himself in those two black holes.

Snape sighed and withdrew his hand.

“I know that, Sir.” Harry said softly, “I just… I don’t want to be the one that’s always alone.”

Snape got up from the bed and stood by Harry’s side. He looked at Harry pointedly and pulled a potion vial filled with a dark blue potion from his robes and set it on the bedside table.

Dreamless Sleep.

“You are never alone, Potter. You’d do best to remember that.”

Harry watched as Snape turned and headed towards the doors.

“Thank you sir.”

“You’re welcome, Potter.”

Harry watched the door shut and suddenly felt that maybe he wasn’t so alone after all. Maybe, just maybe, he had some one there for him too.