The two wizards sat in silence for several minutes, both of them thinking of James and Lily Potter and the terrible end that they had both ultimately suffered. Severus' gift of life had bought his cousin just over two more years of life. But during that two years, two of the young man's most joyous life events had occurred-his marriage to Lily Evans and the birth of his son.

Despite the tragedy of dying at such a young age, James Potter had experienced more happiness in his twenty-one years of life than Severus Snape had in the whole of his thirty-six.

"I am glad that you have shared this memory with me Severus," said Dumbledore. "Needless to say, young Messrs. Potter, Black and Lupin nor indeed, Miss Evans ever felt it necessary to relate these events to me. I am sure they realised that my wrath would have been formidable. After all, they had encountered it enough times here at Hogwarts.

"I must conclude that the information that James and Sirius followed up that day resulted in nothing more than James' near death as I cannot recall being privy to any earth-shattering revelations being related to me by either James or Sirius at that time."

Dumbledore placed his hand on Severus' shoulder and squeezed. "You did a noble thing, my boy, in circumstances that could do naught but cause you pain. It was a selfless act and one which I am sure was instrumental in setting you on the path to your eventual salvation.

"Do not put me on a pedestal Albus. I little deserve it. My misdeeds far outweigh any good I have done in my lifetime."

Albus shook his silver head. "I disagree my boy but I know from past experience that any discussion we have on this subject will only lead to our butting heads again and again."

With a final squeeze of Severus' shoulder, Albus moved across the room and seated himself at the dining table again. "I am still curious as to what occurred to bring these seventeen year old memories to light."

Severus grasped the edge of the mantelpiece and lowered his head between his outstretched arms, his shiny raven black hair falling in a curtain around his face.

"I still can't believe it," he said in a whisper.

"Believe what, Severus?"

"When I was bathing the boy yesterday, I saw...on his leg..."

At that moment, a loud crash sounded from the bedroom that had both men's heads whipping around. Severus was across the room in a heartbeat, Albus, forgetting his one hundred and fifty odd years was only a second behind him. They both stopped in the doorway and stared in shock at the dazed figure sitting on the floor, rubbing the back of his head where it must have come in contact with the base of the bed.

"Idiot boy," ground out Severus as he darted forward. Crouching in front of the dazed teenager, he pulled his wand out and moved it down the length of Harry's body. Harry looked at him blankly. If he realised who Severus was, he was not reacting in his usual antagonistic way.

"Did you hurt yourself, Potter?" asked Severus as he held his lit wand in front of Harry's eyes and gazed into them.

"I fell," said Harry bemusedly and in a decidedly husky voice.

"A brilliant summation," muttered Severus testily as he put his wand away.

"Hold on." Without further ado, Snape grabbed Harry's arm and placed it around his neck. He then slipped one of his arms around the boy's back and the other under his knees and lifted him, with little effort back onto the bed. When Harry felt the give of the mattress, he groaned.

"No!" As soon as Severus released him, he tried to slide to the edge of the bed again. "I need the loo," he said agitatedly.

"Stay still you foolish child!" Severus took his wand and pushing Harry back against the pillows with one hand, he pointed the wand at Harry's lower abdomen and incanted something under his breath.

"Let me up! I need the bathroom." It was several seconds before Harry realised the discomfort of his full bladder had completely abated and he stopped squirming. With a sigh, he relaxed back into the pillows, his eyes closed.

"Thanks," he muttered embarrassedly. He kept his eyes closed as Dumbledore pulled the blankets up.

"It is good to see you back with us, my boy," said Dumbledore with evident relief. "But you must promise not to try and get out of bed by yourself again Harry. You are very weak."

Harry made a slight nodding movement against the pillow. "I just discovered that."

"Here Potter. Drink this." Harry's eyelids opened reluctantly to find a goblet with a straw in it close to his face. He greedily sucked the cool water into his mouth. After several frantic swallows, Severus pulled the straw from Harry's mouth. Harry made a grab for the goblet but Severus placed it on the bedside cabinet, out of reach.

"More," he begged, his voice sounding a little stronger and his green eyes full of pleading, fixed on his potion master's austere face.

"In about fifteen minutes. You will be sick if you drink too much, too quickly. Harry sighed and slumped back into the pillows, closing his eyes again.

"Do you remember what happened to you, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

Harry did not answer immediately but his forehead creased in thought. His eyes suddenly flew open and he stared between his headmaster and his professor.

"I...No, not really. Um-I remember being in your office...you telling me that I couldn't go home on the Hogwarts Express...that I had to go with Sn-er, Professor Snape. I remember starting to feel really hot and sick. But I can't remember anything else. What was wrong with me? How long have I been here?" He looked around blearily at the granite walls and the furniture. "And where is here?"

"We are in Professor Snape's chambers, Harry." Harry's eyes widened in shock. When he opened his mouth to voice a protest, Dumbledore held up a placating hand. Snape's sneer was fully in place as he took up his usual stance, arms crossed with each hand holding onto the opposite elbow.

"Let me explain, my boy." Harry lips compressed into a thin line but he remained silent. ‘And you might need these.' Dumbledore handed Harry his glasses and he put them on gratefully. He peered around at his surroundings with a bit more interest. Snape's chambers!

"You have been gravely ill, Harry.' Began Dumbledore. ‘We thought that we were going to lose you on more than one occasion. Professor Snape has worked ceaselessly to save your life."

"But what happened to me?" Harry burst out. "And why has he-er Professor Snape been looking after me? Why not Madam Pomfrey?"

"Madam Pomfrey left the school to go and visit her brother in New Zealand early on the morning of the day you should have gone home. And as for Professor Snape-well Harry, it is not well known, but Professor Snape is not just one of the most talented potioneers in the wizarding world today, he is also a healer."

Harry's mouth dropped open and he turned to look at Snape who was now finding something on the ceiling to be of great interest.

"In actual fact, Harry, Professor Snape was much more qualified to care for you in your dire condition than Madam Pomfrey was. Excellent though she is at her job, she is not a healer. She is the matron here, a carer; the equivalent of a nursing sister in the Muggle world, if you will.

"Even if Madam Pomfrey had been here, she would have bowed to Severus' superior knowledge anyway, as she has done so often in the past-in secret of course."

Harry shook his head as if he was finding Dumbledore's revelations too difficult to process.

"But why was I ill?" he asked weakly. "What happened to me?"

"Harry, you were poisoned."

"Poisoned! But I hadn't really eaten anything for days. Certainly nothing at breakfast that day. So if any of the food was off, I couldn't have been poisoned. Did anyone else get sick?"

Snape clucked his tongue in annoyance. "Do not be so obtuse, Potter. You were not poisoned by tainted food, you foolish child. You were deliberately poisoned by someone who expended a great deal of effort to concoct a toxic brew that would bring about your very painful and protracted demise."

Harry stared between the two wizards. "But I didn't eat anything-not for ages.

"Potter, you have been studying potions for the last five years." Snape's voice was its scathing best. "And though your performance in my class borders on incompetent..."

"Severus..." Dumbledore's voice was low with warning.

Snape closed his eyes and there was a tense silence for several seconds. Harry eyes darted between the two warily. He was waiting for the explosion.

However, his mouth fell open once again when Snape directed his glittering gaze at him and spoke in a conciliatory voice, this time his shock so profound, he thought he might be hallucinating.

"I apologise, Potter. But you do need to hear a few home truths.'

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something again but he backed off when Snape gave him a look that said, "Trust me."

"I think, Potter that you are far more intelligent than you let anyone at this institution know, though I admit the reasons for this subterfuge allude me.

"So, whilst you have been far from the best at potions during your time at this school, I am of the opinion that you could be. You could perform to Miss Granger's level if you so desired.

"And though you may choose to hide your considerable intellect, Mr Potter I know that you are well aware of the fact that as well as being ingested, poisons can be applied topically, they can be injected and they can also be inhaled.

"The poison that very nearly killed you was very poorly made. But that rendered it even more dangerous. It was delivered into your system by means of this." Snape raised his wand and pointed it out the door.

"Accio box and pendant."

Harry heard a door open in the distance and after about ten seconds, a small wooden box flew straight into Snape's hand. Harry pushed himself further upright on very shaky arms, suppressing a hiss of pain as he did so. He felt pretty ordinary all over but if he had been as sick as Professor Dumbledore intimated, then this weakness was to be expected. When he had pushed up on his arms though, pain had lanced through his hands and up his arms. He didn't know what that could be all about.

Snape had taken the lid off the box and now held it where Harry could look down into it. When he reached for the box, Severus paused for a second, clearly conducting an internal debate. A decision obviously reached, he sighed before placing it in Harry's hand. He still had to bite his tongue to stop himself from admonishing the boy to not touch the article within. Dumbledore watched his internal struggle and beamed with approval when he managed to hold his tongue.

After directing a glower in Dumbledore's direction, Severus kept an alert eye on Harry. Despite the fact that he knew Potter to be more intelligent than he had ever given him credit for, the young fool still acted without thinking more often than not. He would not have been the slightest bit surprised if the boy tried to touch the lethal weapon.

Harry however just stared at the hedgehog/knarl that he had picked up in the entrance hall after being summoned to see the headmaster, unaware of the silent communication going on above his head. As he continued to stare at it, he remembered holding it in his hand; remembered how angry he had gotten in Dumbledore's office and how he had clasped his hand tightly around the pendant causing the sharp quills to pierce his palm.

Though he could not remember anything of the ghastly events that had later ensued he did remember how sick he had felt in the office. And apparently things had gotten considerably worse. He had, apparently, nearly died. Again.

A shiver coursed through Harry's whole frame as he held the box out to Snape. Snape put the lid back on and magically sealed it.

"Can I have some more water, please?" Harry needed to wash away the sick taste in his mouth as much as appease his thirst again. Snape handed him the goblet. This time, Harry drank slowly and placed the goblet on the bedside cabinet after only a few mouthfuls.

"Are you all right, my boy?" asked Dumbledore, his affection for Harry obvious in his concerned tone. He reached out and squeezed Harry's shoulder.

Harry kept his eyes downcast, watching the fingers of his right hand spasmodically picking at the pile of the brown blanket that covered his legs. His fingers felt thick and clumsy but he needed the repetitive movement to cover up his embarrassment. Though he was absurdly grateful to know how much the headmaster cared for him, he was just as embarrassed now as he had been when the old wizard had first told him of his affection back in his office on the morning after the ‘Department of Mysteries' debacle.

"So," he said. "I've almost gotten myself killed again and Professor Snape has had to work overtime to save my life. Again." He raised his eyes to his teacher's austere face.

"I'm sorry that you've had to waste your valuable time on a task that would have brought you little joy, Professor."

The thin line of Snape's eyebrows lowered menacingly and when he opened his mouth to voice a retort, Harry interrupted him.

"But I do thank you, Professor." And ignoring the look of surprise on the man's face, he turned to Dumbledore.

"So, Sir. How long have I been here?"

"It is a week since you first became ill, Harry.

Harry dragged his eyes away from both professors and glanced around the room. He rubbed the disturbed pile of the blanket flat. "So, I've taken up Professor Snape's bed..." he looked at Snape again. "...I presume this is your bed, Sir?"

Snape nodded and Harry looked down again.

"I'm sorry to have put you out."

"For Merlin's sake Potter..."

"There is no need to feel guilty about anything Harry," interrupted Dumbledore. None of this is your fault and Professor Snape has been too busy to be worried about the inconvenience of being put out of his bed. Not to mention losing his much vaunted privacy as either myself or Professor McGonagall has spent most of the last week down here as well."

Harry's face contorted and he leaned forward and with his elbows on his bent knees, he grabbed two handfuls of his dirty hair and pulled at it. "Aargh!"

Dumbledore took both Harry's hands in his and gently prised them away from his head. "Harry..."

"Why can't anything ever be normal for me?" Harry ranted, cutting Dumbledore off. "How many students at this school have ever had an evil wizard in their heads, except for Ginny in her first year? And how many have been deliberately poisoned, on school property, no less?" He paused and swallowed the tears that were on the verge of escape. He pulled his hands out of Dumbledore's gentle grasp.

"And how many of them have been responsible for the deaths of four innocent people.

"Diggory was the only innocent, Potter. But even that unfortunate episode was not your fault." said Snape in a voice that was-amazingly-not in the least bit scathing. Nevertheless, Harry was immediately on the defensive.

"Oh, of course you're saying that my mum and dad and Sirius deserved to die."

Severus took a deep breath, clearly reigning in the impulse to jump down the boy's throat. It was very difficult to break the habits of the last five years.

"No Potter, what I am saying is that you were the innocent when your parents died and that they knew what they were doing in attempting to protect you. They did what any loving parent would have done. And Black knew what he was doing when he left Grimmauld place to go to your rescue." Severus paused and it looked as though an internal debate was taking place.

Finally, he said. "And on the subject of Black..."

Harry's expression was instantly wiped clear of pain and only anger showed in his turbulent green eyes, the eyes that Snape could not comfortably look into without visions of Lily filling his head.

"You don't have to tell me how pleased you are that he's dead, Professor." Harry's voice was devoid of any intonation but his eyes still blazed.

"You are entirely wrong, Potter. Black and I hated each other; it would be foolish of me to deny it. But I did not waste any time in contacting Grimmauld place after your rather garbled communication in that foul woman's office.

"I spoke to Black. Amazingly, we did not exchange any harsh words. In fact, for us, we were remarkably civil. Lupin's presence always seemed to have a calming effect on his volatile friend. Even when we were at school, Lupin, along with Lily-when she finally succumbed to your father's charms-was the only one who could keep Black under any sort of control.

"Later, when it was obvious that you and your friends had disappeared, I contacted Grimmauld place again and when it became obvious that Black was determined to go after you, I joined with Lupin in trying to exhort him to stay put. I am sorry we could not prevail but little used though I am to defending myself to you, I have to say that I at no time taunted your godfather about hiding safely in his family home."

"Then!" spat Harry.

"Yes Potter, then. I know it was ill done of me to have taunted him previously but-well, I am afraid to say that some habits die hard."

Harry looked as though he wanted to rant some more but suddenly all the stiffness drained out of him and he slumped back against the pillows and closed his eyes.

"I think it is time that we let this subject go," said Dumbledore, ever the mediator. "Harry I know you are too fair-minded to continue to blame Professor Snape for something that he had no control over. The person ultimately responsible for the terrible events at the end of last term was Voldemort. He has fooled far more experienced wizards than yourself in the past, Harry and no doubt he will do so again. Of course it is normal for you to continue to mourn Sirius but you must not continue to heap blame upon yourself or Professor Snape. Neither of you is to blame and Harry, Sirius would not want you to continue to berate yourself."

Dumbledore grasped Harry's thin shoulder again and squeezed. "And now Severus, I imagine that Harry must be starving. Is he allowed to eat?"

Severus ordered a bowl of thin gruel sweetened with honey and though he had little enthusiasm for food, Harry knew it would be pointless to argue and he ate about two-thirds of it before conceding defeat. He did enjoy the cup of weak tea that he was allowed and he finished that off before lying back and dozing off.

8888

When he next awoke, Snape made Harry eat and drink a little more. When that had had time to settle, he began an examination which left Harry absolutely mortified. He knew Snape had been looking after him whilst he had been ill but now that he was aware of what was going on, he found it almost impossible not to recoil when the man touched him. He answered Snape's questions tersely, telling him that apart from a slight headache and muscle stiffness, the only pain he had was in his hands, and they ached with a deep seated pain that seemed to emanate from his very bones.

Snape's brow had furrowed and he had taken Harry's abnormally warm hands between his own long, cool fingers. Harry's hands were reddened and when Severus had turned them this way and that, Harry had gasped in pain and pulled free.

Severus was pretty sure he knew the cause of the boy's pain. The wild magic he had released days earlier had been amazingly powerful. Potter, as far as Severus knew had never performed wandless magic before and to start off with such a powerful burst had no doubt strained the fine muscles, tendons and nerves. The boys hands were slightly swollen and the redness was indicative of inflammation.

However, he was not going to be the one to tell Potter that he had inadvertently released a blast of magic that had hurled his potions master across the room and into the wall causing him to lose consciousness. He did not want to see the smirk that would probably appear on the boy's face, thank you very much.

Severus pointed his wand towards the open door of the bedroom and muttered something that sounded to Harry like, ‘Accio Stringywart Unguent", and within ten seconds and following the opening and closing of two doors, a small glazed pottery pot with a cork stopper flew into its summoner's hand. Snape handed the pot to Harry, telling him to rub liberal amounts into his fingers and the backs of each hand. Harry automatically took the pot but his stiff, swollen fingers would not work properly and he was unable to grasp it firmly and with an indrawn hiss of pain, he dropped it onto the bedclothes.

Snape watched dispassionately for several seconds as Harry picked it up awkwardly and made an unsuccessful attempt to remove the cork.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake Potter, give it here," and he impatiently grabbed it back and scooped out a good dollop of a mustard yellow, greasy substance that smelled like menthol.

Harry tensed when Snape reached for one of his hands but it was with surprisingly gentle fingers that he massaged the greasy goo into both of Harry's hands.

It felt warm at first and then it cooled, feeling blissful on his inflamed skin. Surprisingly, despite its greasy appearance, the unguent did not leave any residue after several minutes of massage and Harry was relieved to find that he could move his fingers with much more freedom and much less pain almost as soon as the massage was finished.

"Umm, why are my hands so sore, Sir? Much more so than the stiff muscles everywhere else."

Snape just looked at him as if he had just peered into Harry's cauldron after one of his more spectacular potions failures. After a few seconds, he lifted one shoulder in an indifferent shrug and said, "Just one of those things, Potter. Now, before the pain becomes severe enough to render your hands useless again, rub more of the unguent onto them and do so regularly over the next couple of days."

Severus then continued with his examination and when he had finished, he replaced his wand within his robes and looked into Harry's embarrassed face. "Well, Potter. I do believe you will survive long enough to break more rules and cause more mayhem."

Harry looked at him darkly but Severus ignored the look and continued. "I am constantly amazed at just how resilient you are, Potter. I do not think I have ever come across another sixteen year old body that has withstood as much as yours has." He pointed at the lightening bolt scar on Harry's forehead.

"That you were only left with that scar after the Dark Lord delivered the Killing Curse is something that frankly stuns me anew every time I think about it. It defies everything I have come to know about the Dark Arts and the most powerful Dark Wizard in history. No-one had ever bested him before you came along, Potter."

Harry squirmed under Snapes piercing regard. But his disquiet had as much to do with the lack of malice in the man's expression as it did with the content of his speech. When Harry self-consciously reached up to scratch a spot on his collar bone beneath the neckband of his old baggy t-shirt, Snape ceased his intense scrutiny of Harry's face. With some reluctance, it seemed to Harry, Snape dragged his black eyes away from whatever had so fascinated him with his face and idly gazed around his bedroom. Harry wished he would leave, or better yet, he wished he himself could get out of this bed and go back to Gryffindor Tower.

Snape's eyes suddenly snapped back to Harry. "But you have many more scars adorning your body, don't you Potter," he said quietly. "I think the few fleeting visions I saw of your Muggle relatives during those horrendous Occlumency lessons were just the tip of the iceberg, weren't they?"

Harry cringed to think that his most hated professor had seen so much. He did not want to think exactly how much bare skin he had seen. But somehow, he could not feel quite as sickened as he once would have done. But all the same this was a subject he did not wish to talk about, particularly with Professor Severus Snape, head of Slytherin House and a man known to have quite a close rapport with Draco Malfoy, Harry's nemesis. He squirmed further down in the bed and turned on his side, facing away from Severus.

"I'm tired Professor. I need to go to sleep."

Harry lay tense, waiting for Snape to leave. However, instead of hearing the sound of receding footsteps, Harry felt the covers whipped off him.

"I don't think so, Mr Potter. You were keen to walk to the bathroom earlier; so now that you have partaken of a little food, you may be able to make the journey, with a little assistance."

"I don't need to go to the bathroom," Harry said in a panicked rush.

Snape took hold of Harry's arm and pulled him with surprisingly gentle force into a sitting position.

"Oh, I think you do, Potter. It has been several hours since I last spelled your bladder empty and you have had a fair amount of fluid since then." Harry's face had blazed like the setting sun when Snape referred to his bladder. He resisted Snape, but the bigger, stronger man had him sitting on the edge of the bed before he knew it.

"Come along, Potter. Do try not to re-enforce my opinion that the only good Harry Potter is an unconscious Harry Potter."

Harry wrenched his arm away from Snape's grasp and glared at him balefully. Snape just stood with his arms crossed and smirked at Harry's impotent rage.

With false bravado, but carefully none the less, because if the truth be known, he still felt a little light-headed, Harry pushed himself off the edge of the bed with shaky arms. He didn't dare move away from the bed's solid support however because he knew he would land flat on his face. His legs hardly seemed able to support his weight and God knew, his weight was far from substantial.

Where was that much touted Gryffindor bravery when he needed it? A quick glance to the side showed him that Snape was no longer smirking but he was watching him very carefully.

Harry wiped his forearm across his forehead where droplets of perspiration had suddenly blossomed. He gritted his teeth. He was not going to give Snape the pleasure of seeing just how weak he really was. He would make it to the bathroom or die trying.

Taking a deep breath, Harry forced himself away from the comforting support of the bed and took one step, two steps. He forgot about Snape's presence, so focused was he on putting one shaky leg in front of the other.

The large bed upon which Harry had spent the last week stood on a deep piled brown and burgundy rub that extended past the parameters of the bed by about four feet. Harry managed to traverse the soft, stubbly surface and one foot had encountered the cold stone of the dungeon floor before his knees gave way. Snape caught him before he crumpled to the floor. He set him back on his feet but maintained a firm grip on his arm again.

"You foolish boy. Is it so impossible for you to ask for assistance?"

Harry wiped his forehead again but he made no further attempt to escape his professors steadying grip.

"Why would I ask for assistance Sir, when you've spent the last five years doing everything in your power to make me look like a fool." They were making slow but steady progress across the large bedroom. Harry's legs still felt shaky but Snape's support kept him upright and moving forward.

"Well Potter, how could I have passed up a task that you always made so ridiculously easy." Harry's lips thinned and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from retorting. In truth it was taking every bit of his strength to finish the journey. Anyway, he knew it was a pointless exercise to bandy words with Snape.

Once in the bathroom, Snape let Harry take hold of the hand basin for support.

"Do you think you will be all right now?" As the toilet was right next to the basin, Harry nodded tersely.

"I took the liberty of removing your toiletries from your trunk, so you will find your toothbrush there. I am sure you will benefit from a non-magical freshening up." Snape left him and pulled the door to but did not shut it completely. "Call me when you are ready to go back to bed," he called through the gap.

Ten minutes later Harry was back in bed. He felt as exhausted as he had done immediately after he had completed the second task of the Triwizard Tournament

"Is there anything I can get you?" asked Snape as he pulled the covers up. Harry shook his head then lay back and closed his eyes. He reached a tired hand up to remove his glasses and fumbled them towards the bedside cabinet. His eyes snapped open when Snape took them and placed them on the cabinet. He turned to leave the room and was almost at the door when Harry spoke.

"Um, Professor..." Snape stopped and looked back, his eyebrows raised in question. "Thank you. For everything you've done to help me."

Harry held his breath waiting for some scathing comment. However, there was none, and he let his breath out when Snape nodded in acknowledgement and continued out of the room.

&&&&

Early that evening, Albus and Minerva both appeared in Severus' chambers. Severus put down the potion's manual he was reading.

"Welcome back Minerva. How was your sister?"

"Faking, as usual," sniffed Minerva and Dumbledore looked over the top of her head at Severus and good-naturedly shook his silver head at his partner's implacable attitude. "But I do not wish to talk about Morgana. How is Harry doing?"

"Mr Potter is improving slowly. He had a small serving of pureed vegetables and a small rice pudding for lunch. I had to encourage him to eat as his appetite has not returned. He is, however, drinking plenty of fluids.

"He is still very weak but I am sure his Gryffindor pride and stubbornness will see him up on his feet without assistance within the next 24 hours."

"Good!" was all Minerva said before she moved with her customary, crisp walk into the bedroom. The two men followed. Harry was curled on his side, sound asleep, his breathing deep and even. As she gazed at the young boy, Minerva marvelled at how much he had come to mean to her in the five years she had been his teacher and head of house. Truth be known, Harry had given her more grey hairs than even his father had done all those years ago. But just as James and his cohorts in crime, Sirius and Remus had done, Harry had unwittingly wormed his way into her heart.

Of course, she would never show by word or deed that she had a favourite student but Harry's tragic history and his continuing encounters with forces that seemed to drain a little more of his spirit every week, had tweaked back to life, the maternal instinct that she had thought had died along with her daughter, 55 years ago. And of course, Albus loved the boy unequivocally. This was partly because Lily and James had been such favourites but he had adored Harry since the day he had been born. Indeed, Lily and James had considered Albus to be a grandfather to Harry and Albus had relished the role.

It had broken his heart to leave the child with the Dursleys all those years ago.

Most of the staff had been on Harry Potter alert before he had even arrived at the school and most had easily come to care for the bright and inquisitive Muggle raised child who had found the world of magic to be...well, magical.

Minerva knew that Harry would turn 16 in three weeks time but she could not help but think that he did not look any older than the children in 3rd or 4th year. The child had lost so much weight! The urge to push his unruly fringe away from his forehead was almost overwhelming but she was afraid of waking him.

She turned around to whisper something to Severus but the words were never uttered. She blinked. Severus Snape, the one teacher who had always been far from enamoured of the ‘Boy Who Lived', was standing with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his robes staring at Harry with an arrested expression on his face.

Minerva was so used to seeing outright dislike, often combined with anger on his severe face whenever he was in the vicinity of Harry, that she was quite taken aback by the neutral expression.

Albus too was viewing his potions master, but with a calculating look in his wise eyes, and when it seemed that Minerva would finally speak, he caught her eye and gave his head a slight shake. Severus seemed oblivious to their silent communication and when Albus addressed him in barely more than a whisper in deference to Harry's peaceful slumber, he started slightly, his cheeks suffusing with a slight flush when he realised both Albus and Minerva were staring at him.

"Severus, perhaps we can leave Harry to Minerva's excellent care for a short while. It has been a considerable time since you have been out of the dungeons. Perhaps we can go for a walk in the grounds. It has been a truly magnificent day."

"And what makes you think I have any desire for sunshine and fresh air?" asked Severus in his usual acerbic tones. But the headmaster was obviously determined for he had taken hold of the younger man's arm and was steering him from his chambers.

"Perhaps you do not desire it my boy, but you could do with some natural light and warmth." Severus scowled but he refrained from further comment and he and Albus negotiated the dungeon corridors in a companionable silence.

The old wizard had not exaggerated. Hogwarts was bathed in the golden glow of the sinking sun. The sky was a brilliant cerulean blue and there was not one cloud to spoil the great expanse of evening sky. The lightest of breezes played with their hair and robes.

They strolled across the courtyard to the sloping lawns and turned their footsteps towards the distant forest and Hagrid's hut.

"So, Headmaster, what did you wish to talk about that Minerva could not hear?" Albus continued walking in silence for several seconds and when he finally spoke he kept his eyes on his booted feet.

"Severus, I am eager to hear the end of the story you were relating to me yesterday...before Harry's abrupt awakening interrupted us."

Severus, who had been grateful for the timely intervention of Potter's return to consciousness before he could relay his fears to Dumbledore, now took a deep breath. The headmaster was like a dog with a bone and Severus knew that he would eventually have the whole story no matter how much he wished he had never started it and how much time he spent prevaricating.

Severus reasoned that if he did not speak of it, then he would be able to forget about his discovery. He had been trying to block it out of his mind since yesterday but every time he looked at the boy he found himself studying him minutely to see if there was any other...

Severus pushed these disturbing thoughts from his mind. The whole scenario was impossible. It could not be possible. He had never heard of it happening before and surely if it had, it would have been documented.

"Perhaps I could refresh your memory, my boy. You said, ‘When I was bathing the boy yesterday, I saw...on his leg...'

"Do you know how profoundly annoying it is that you do not suffer from the normal memory lapses that generally accompany aging?' Severus asked in his most caustic tone.

Dumbledore smiled but he was not to be side tracked. "What did you see on Harry's leg, Severus?"

"It was nothing of import. Just one of the many marks marring the boy's skin.

"I was babbling because of my less than stellar health this morning. But the boy is covered in scars, Albus. I do not think you realise the full extent of the abuse he must have suffered at the hands of his Muggle relations. I myself only saw glimpses of it during our ill-fated Occlumency lessons." Severus latched onto this change of subject like a drowning man holding onto a piece of flotsam.

Albus' usually amiable features took on a look that one did not see too often but when you did, you knew that you were in the company of a formidably powerful and when necessary, dangerous wizard. It was times like this that Severus was glad that he was on the same side as Albus Dumbledore.

"I am now totally cognisant of the Dursley's treatment of Harry, thank you Severus. I am afraid young Harry has been far too secretive about the goings on in his aunt and uncle's home. Of course I knew that he never wanted to return to the Dursleys for the summer break but I always assumed it was because he was so isolated from the wizarding world. Arabella knew he was unhappy but she never saw any sign of physical abuse."

"It would appear that the uncle was always careful about where he plied his fists or the strap," said Severus.

"Yes," Albus agreed darkly. "It would appear so." The old wizard stopped walking and perched his tall frame on a low brick wall that divided the manicured sloping lawns surrounding the castle from the rougher ground and undergrowth that marked the edges of the forest. Hagrid's hut was still a good hundred feet away, almost in the shade of the first of the trees. There was no smoke furling from the chimney.

Severus was forced to stop also but he did not look at his boss; he just continued to stare off into the forest.

"That was a very good attempt at diversion, Severus but in case you have never noticed, I am tenacious. I am also extremely patient."

Severus shut his eyes in exasperation. He raised one long fingered elegant hand and rubbed the small amount of skin that was bared on the back of his neck above the high, stiff collar of his robes.

"Do you know, Old Man, it is times like this that I truly think that the Dark Lord is the much easier master to serve." Severus' voice was its disdainful best. Albus chuckled but otherwise he was content to just sit there, his blue eyes taking in the castle and its grounds, the view that he loved most in the world.

Severus, on the other hand became more and more irate as the early evening silence enfolded them in its peaceful embrace. He had never learned the art of switching off and contemplating his navel like his companion. But of course, the infuriating wizard before him knew that; he knew that he would eventually crack.

But if he could keep his mouth shut, if he could copy Albus Dumbledore's persistence and serenity, then no-one else need ever know of his suspicions. And even Dumbledore could not breach his, Severus' strongest Occlumency shields.

Severus stared off into the distance, his face impassive but his mind in turmoil. Could he do it though? Could he, Severus Snape, the inquisitive man of science that he was, ignore the implications of that small mark on the boy's leg?

Would it be easier for him to decide to investigate further the possibilities that mark represented if the equation did not involve the boy whom he had spent the last five years torturing? For no reason other than the fact that he was the son of his hated cousin. If he delved further, and his investigations confirmed what he suspected, could he put aside his dislike and prejudices and accept the boy?

But of course, the whole thing could very well be moot, because the chances of Harry Potter looking upon him as anything other than his most hated teacher, were negligible at best.

Severus shook his head slightly, exasperated with the turmoil his contradictory thoughts were causing. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Albus. The old wizard was lapping up the last rays of the lowering sun, his eyes closed and his face lifted in rapturous pleasure. Severus scowled.

"You know, my boy, if you stopped debating the pros and cons of confession and just got on with it, you would feel so much better. Confession, as they say, is good for the soul."

"I do not fool myself that any soul that I may have left could ever feel good, Old Man."

"Your soul is shining and whole Severus, make no mistake." Albus was now staring at his young companion, his eyes like lasers. "I can see it. Minerva can see it. Filius, Poppy, Pomona, Remus, Tonks, Molly and Arthur can all see past your acerbic personality and dour expression."

Severus gave a huff of humourless laughter. "They can't see past their own noses. They choose to believe you, Albus because to them, you are omnipotent."

"You imbue me with far more power than I actually have at my command, Severus," said Dumbledore with a bite of steel in his voice, indicating that this train of conversation was over. "Now, why don't you just tell me what profound discovery led you to lose yourself in the bottom of a bottle and forget your charge...forget the boy for whom you pulled out all the stops to save from a particularly painful death."

Severus felt slightly panicky, like a child who knew that all his prevarication was for naught and that the truth was finally going to be wrested from him.

He swung around and stared towards the castle. Even in the gathering, purple twilight, the stones that formed those formidable walls seemed to still radiate a rosy glow. Suddenly, Severus felt the serenity that imbued those very stones begin to leach into his very core. Those walls enclosed the space that was the only place that he had ever felt at home in.

Most of the people who came to Hogwarts enjoyed their time there but they never considered it to be their home. Home away from home perhaps... But the house in which he had been born and in which he had spent a hellish childhood had never been a home to Severus.

But the minute he had set eyes on this magical structure, he had fallen under its spell. And having to go back to the home of his childhood during the holidays had been torture. If it had not been for his mother, he would have run away from his miserable, half Muggle existence. He would have run back to Hogwarts and hidden somewhere in the seeming miles of passageways in the dungeons.

During their horrendous Occlumency lessons, Severus had sensed a similar passion for Hogwarts in Potter. And it was no secret that the boy loathed going back to his Muggle relatives. And after seeing the scaring on the boy's body, it was no wonder. At least he, Severus had had a magical mother who had loved him and who had encouraged his own magical education. As long as they kept their conversations secret from Tobias Snape-and that had usually been easy as the man was more often than not out at the pub or else in a drunken stupor, passed out on the front stoop. He could not calculate the number of times he had helped his mother drag the drunken sot over the threshold, into the narrow, dingy hallway where his mother would cover him with a blanket as he was too heavy to haul up the stairs.

Harry Potter had no family who understood what it was like to be magical. His family bullied and punished him if he even talked about magic-even in the broadest of terms. In Minerva's words, they were the worst kind of Muggles. They did not want to understand.

And now there was the possibility that he and Potter were much more than first cousins once removed.

A decision reached, Severus turned to Albus who was watching him quietly, waiting with complete confidence for him to tell his story.