"Arry?"

Harry opened his eyes at the soft voice to find Fleur Delacour studying him. She was as lovely as ever, with her platinum hair piled loosely on top of her head, and her wide blue eyes filled with concern. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and for some reason Harry felt intensely embarrassed that he was in pajamas and apparently had been sound asleep. He really must be more weak and tired than he'd realized.

At first he was dazed at seeing her, then remembered Ron and Ginny telling him that she and Bill were engaged and Dumbledore had mentioned her helping with his medicines, hadn't he? So he supposed it made sense for her to be here now, but it was a little shocking to come awake from a deep sleep and find himself face to face with someone he hadn't seen in over a year.

"Fleur?" He noticed that his voice still sounded weak.

"Ow do you feel?" She asked gently.

"I've been better," Harry tried to smile. "But I guess I've been worse, too."

"Can you be more specific, Arry, please? We may need to adjust the dosage of your potions."

Harry sighed. "Well, I kind of ache all over, but it's a dull ache. It's not horrible. My chest is a little sore and my arms are numb, but mostly I'm just really tired."

"Et ez time for you to take another dose of Blood-Replenishing Potion so that weel ‘elp you feel stronger, for a little while anyway." Fleur reached for the night table and Harry saw that a small jar filled with a dark red liquid was there. Fleur handed it to him and Harry reluctantly took it. However much good they might do, most potions tasted nasty, and this one was no exception.

He grimaced and handed the empty jar back to Fleur. "Why do these things always have to taste so bad?"

"Weel, just consider the ingredients that go ento them. You can't expect them to taste like sweets." Fleur patted his cheek. "I am very glad that you're all right, ‘Arry."

"Thanks," Harry told her. "And thanks for helping with my potions."

She smiled as she stood to leave. "Et ez my pleasure. You saved Gabrielle, and I'm ‘appy to be able to do something for you. And I'm ‘onored to work with Professor Snape. "E ez a genius, you know, even if ‘e ez not the friendliest soul."

"Humf."

They both looked over to see Snape scowling at them from the doorway of his office. Rather than appearing embarrassed, Fleur gave him a cheery smile. "I am off to eat dinner with Bill. Good-bye, Professor. Good-bye, ‘Arry."

Harry was tempted to ask her to stay and not leave him alone with Snape, but he couldn't show that much weakness to the professor, and it would make him look a fool besides. All right, he told himself. You are a Gryffindor. Act like one. Besides, what's the worst he can do? It's not like he's going to Crucio me. That reminded him of the Death Eaters and the white-hot fire in his bones as they had tortured him. He shuddered and closed his eyes against the memories.

"Potter?"

There was a sound of soft footsteps and Harry opened his eyes to find Snape standing close and handing him another bottle of liquid, a light blue potion this time.

"There is no reason for you to be in pain." Snape's voice was even, not sympathetic, but once again Harry noticed that the man didn't sound hateful either. Hmm, that was odd.

"Drink this, and if you are still uncomfortable, tell me and I can get you a stronger dose." Snape's lip curled, making him look and sound more familiar. "If your Gryffindor pride will allow you to admit to not being superhuman."

Harry swallowed the bitter medicine, vowing to himself that he would never admit to weakness in front of Snape, but the potion did its job and Harry's aches disappeared, leaving him feeling a pleasant floating sensation. He hated to have to do it, but something made him glance up at Snape and mumble, "Thank you."

"Humf." Snape turned to leave, heading for his living room this time, but then he paused and turned back to Harry. "Your friends have not ceased to pester me this afternoon. If school were started, I assure you Gryffindor would be in negative points by now. As it is, I suggest you allow them to visit this evening so they can see for themselves that you are still alive."

Harry had been reaching for his glasses. He froze and considered what excuse he could give this time. It made him feel terrible, for he longed to see Ron and Hermione, and he knew they were worried about him. It would hurt them to be rebuffed by him. But it would hurt them far more when Voldemort came after them or their families.

That thought stiffened his resolve and he said firmly, "I have a headache, sir. I don't feel like company right now. I'll see my friends later."

Snape rolled his eyes. "If you're going to lie, Potter, you need to learn to do it convincingly. You just drank a Level 5 painkilling potion. You couldn't possibly have a bad headache. In any case, I thought you and Weasley and Granger would crawl over broken glass for one another."

Harry remained stubbornly silent and refused to meet Snape's sharp gaze.

After a moment, the Potions professor shrugged. "Well, far be it from me to insist on having silly, obnoxious children in my quarters. Suit yourself, Potter." He spun on his heel and left Harry alone.

After an hour, Harry almost wished that Snape would return. There was absolutely nothing to do. The Blood-Replenisher had made him a bit stronger and he'd already slept for most of the day so he wasn't tired enough to sleep again. There was no one to talk with, and nothing to read. He was desperate enough even to want his textbooks and a chance to work on his summer homework, but of course all his things were at the Burrow, if the Death Eaters hadn't destroyed them.

He wondered what had had happened at the Burrow. He knew all the Weasleys and Hermione were safe, thank goodness, but he wondered if the Death Eaters had returned there to hunt for them and destroy things. And exactly how had he been rescued? How had the Order known where to find him, and how had they gotten him out of that horrible cellar? Which Order members had come? Probably not Remus, because surely his father's friend would have stayed and come to check on him now that he was awake, but Harry wished Remus had been one of his rescuers, and that he could see him again. It seemed a very long time since the beginning of summer when he had seen Remus last.

He was staring at the picture of the stormy sea on the wall and wondering what it would be like to see the ocean in person when there was a knock on the door and he looked over to see Dumbledore standing there, wearing silver robes and carrying a tray of food with his good arm. Harry wondered again how he had injured the other one.

"Sir!" Harry smiled and sat up straighter.

Dumbledore seemed pleased to see him, too. "Harry, you look stronger already. Do you feel like eating a bite of supper?"

He hadn't realized it until then, but he was hungry. His stomach rumbled as he saw the bowl of steaming soup and a stack of warm buttered toast.

"I'll take that as a ‘yes'," Dumbledore chuckled as he came and set the tray down in front of Harry. He settled himself on the side of the bed and stopped Harry as he reached for the spoon.

"You really shouldn't be moving your arms. Here, let me."

But Harry could not accept Dumbledore spoon-feeding him. There were limits, after all.

"Sir, I can feed myself. I'm not a baby."

"It has nothing to do with your age or maturity, Harry," the headmaster told him gently. "We simply do not want to start the bleeding again. You've lost enough blood as it is." When Harry still looked mutinous, he added. "You know, it is a mark of true maturity to allow others to help you when you need it."

Harry sighed. He didn't like it, but he could see Dumbledore's point, and he was pretty hungry. "All right, sir." And not wanting to seem ungrateful, he continued, "And thank you."

"You're very welcome."

The vegetable soup was warm and rich and slightly tangy. Harry thought it was the best soup he'd ever eaten, and the toast was delicious, too. After the first few bites, Harry was able to forget the ignominy of being fed because Dumbledore began answering his unspoken questions by giving him the details of his rescue.

At one point Harry nearly choked on his soup. "Our minds connected? Snape's and mine? No offense, sir, but are you sure?

"Professor Snape, Harry, and yes, we're quite sure. A most fortunate contingency, too, as it saved your life. Your rescuers were searching for you at the homes of Death Eaters. I doubt anyone would have thought to look for you at the Riddle House, certainly not in time to save you."

"Yeah, I guess it was pretty fortunate," Harry mumbled. "But how did it happen? I mean, I wasn't thinking about trying to call Sn---Professor Snape. Was he trying to use that Legilimency stuff on me?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, it never occurred to Professor Snape to attempt Legilimency. After all, Legilimency does not normally work that way at all. In most cases, the two parties must be in close proximity to one another, and eye contact is often needed as well. You remember that from your Occlumency lessons last year, don't you?"

Harry nodded, but since he didn't want to think about those horror sessions with Snape, he brought the conversation back on topic.

"Sir? You said ‘in most cases'. Has it ever happened before? A mind connection like what happened with Professor Snape and me?"

Dumbledore hesitated and for an instant, Harry thought his blue eyes looked haunted.

"Yes," the headmaster said slowly. "It is extremely rare, but there has been at least one other similar case." His voice faded and he gazed sightlessly into space.

Harry wanted to know more, but something in Dumbledore's pained expression prevented him from asking questions. After a minute, Dumbledore seemed to come back to the present and forced himself to smile at Harry.

"Perhaps I'll tell you more about that other case another time, Harry, but I'm still pondering the implications and I don't believe I have it figured out yet. In the meantime, I'm sure you want to know what happened after Professor Snape realized where you were..."

A few minutes more and Harry was gawking at him again. "Snape rescued me?"

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Professor Snape. You really do owe him the courtesy of using his title, Harry. He's done a great deal for you lately."

Harry blushed. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry. But Professor Snape is the one who rescued me?"

"I think all the Order members who were there should be credited. They all took the same risk, and they delayed Voldemort and his followers long enough for Professor Snape to free you."

"Oh yes, I'm terribly grateful to all of them," Harry said quickly, wanting to explain himself. "I was just surprised that Professor Snape was the one who actually got me here."

"Is it really so surprising, Harry? Professor Snape has saved your life before, you know."

"Well, yes, I just kind of thought you were the one who had saved me."

Dumbledore reached to lightly squeeze his shoulder. "Harry, I was absolutely horrified when I returned to Hogwarts and learned what had happened to you in my absence. It was one of my gravest mistakes, and I've made some grave mistakes before, to leave without letting anyone know how to contact me in an emergency."

"The only defense I can offer is that the project I am working on is crucial to Voldemort's defeat and I could not take a chance on the information falling into the wrong ears. If I should have to leave again, however, I will make sure Fawkes knows how to reach me. I should have taken that precaution before. There is no excuse, but to be honest, Harry, I have had a great many things on my mind lately, and I think I've become somewhat addlepated, trying to get everything accomplished before--" Once again, his voice trailed off.

This time Harry couldn't stop himself. "Before what?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Another time, Harry. But I promise I will tell you more about my project when we have our private lessons this year."

Seeing that Harry had finished eating, Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder again and stood. "Before I leave, is there anything else you would like to ask or that I could do for you?"

"Um, could I have my stuff from the Burrow? Or did the Death Eaters ruin everything?"

"Your belongings are safely in Gryffindor Tower, Harry. Well, except for your owl and she's in the Owlery. A few days ago Aurors accompanied Molly and Arthur back to their home and they were able to pack everyone's belongings and collect the pets. I will have your trunk brought down in the morning."

"Thank you, sir, and thanks for bringing me dinner."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him. "You're welcome, but actually Professor Snape is the one who ordered your food. I arrived at the same time as your plate and as I was coming to visit you anyway, I simply brought it in to you."

Well, Harry thought to himself, at least Snape hadn't been the one to spoon-feed him. He shuddered to think of all the ways Snape could think of to torment him with that knowledge.

Perhaps it was having a full stomach, or else the strength from the Blood-Replenisher had worn off, but after Dumbledore had left, Harry found that he was sleepy again. He placed his glasses on the night table and moving his arms carefully, he lay down, curled up under the quilt, and let himself drift off.

***

The noise was quiet, but it was enough to wake Severus. He opened his eyes; then realized that Potter was crying softly. He cringed inwardly. He was not comfortable dealing with sentimental baggage, even with students he did like, which admittedly were few and far between. A part of him wanted nothing more than to roll over, pull his blankets over his head, and pretend he'd never heard Potter.

But he couldn't do that. If there ever had been a time when he could have ignored the boy's pain, then it had passed. Potter had endured unimaginable torments from the Death Eaters and if there were any small way that Severus could help the boy---well, then he just had to, whether he was comfortable with it or not.

Furthermore, although he wasn't quite ready to admit it even to himself, it was becoming difficult to summon his old hatred for the boy. Potter was not the spoiled, arrogant little princeling that Severus had assumed him to be. He'd been wrong about the boy; he couldn't deny it. Not now that he'd seen the scars across the boy's back. Not after reading the letter he'd received from Potter's relatives. He wouldn't call them ‘family' because they'd obviously never been that for Potter.

It was Hogwarts' policy to notify a student's family in the case of a serious accident or injury. Severus had worded it carefully to avoid giving specific details because he wasn't sure how much information should become public, but he had sent a notice to Privet Drive informing the Dursleys that their nephew had been badly hurt and was in serious condition.

Normally, this type of letter was delivered by a staff member, especially if the student's family were Muggles, so they could be escorted to the school to be at their child's side. But since he'd found out that the Dursleys were abusive, Severus had sent their letter by owl. They certainly didn't deserve to see Potter.

He needn't have worried. The Dursleys had made it quite plain that they had no desire to see the boy and did not care if he lived or died. The owl had been sent back with the most vitriolic, hateful letter Severus had ever seen. It was enough to spark his sense of outrage on Potter's behalf, and Severus was certainly no Potter fan.

But no child should be treated the way Potter had been. Deep in his heart, Severus felt a glimmering of empathy for the boy.

And he knew what it was like to suffer nightmares in the dark, so he went to Potter's side and repeated his litany from the night before. "It's all right, Potter. You're safe now."

But the crying didn't stop right away this time. Breathing a sigh of relief that Potter wasn't really awake and wouldn't know, Severus reached out and smoothed the boy's hair with a gentle hand. "No one is going to hurt you again, Potter. I promise. You're safe here."

He kept on carding his fingers through the mussed hair until finally the cries ceased.