He woke up in the dark and for a moment thought that he was in his cupboard. As soon as he tried to sit up, he felt a hand pushing him back down. Everything was blurry.

“My glasses,” he whispered and a felt a something warm in his mouth. The metallic taste told him it was blood.

“Please, my glasses. I can’t see.”

Big, rough hands put his glasses on and after his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see that they were Snape’s. He was in his hospital room. It was the same as he had left it, just a few moments ago, only that there was a second bed in it now and the whiskey was empty.

Harry tried to sit up again, but was unable to do so. A groan, that sounded like a whimper escaped his mouth and Harry cursed himself for his weakness in front of Snape.

Every limb in his body felt tender and bruised, his head hurt badly.

When he remembered what had happened, he turned his turned his head away so that Snape wouldn’t be able to see the embarrassment that Harry felt.

“Dursley has been arrested,” Snape said with a stern voice. Harry could hear a hint of disgust in it, but wasn’t sure who that would be addressed to. Probably to him.

“He was right,” Harry croaked. “I did ruin his life. Everyone’s.”

“Your relatives…,” Snape said with an expressionless voice, “have they always been-“

“Don’t even try and pretend that you didn’t know, Snape.” Harry felt yet again, anger consume him but was somehow thankful for it. “They kept me in a cupboard for ten years and my first Hogwarts letter was addressed to it. Hardly any food. Chores. Beatings. Don’t tell me that you didn’t know.”

Snape’s eyes widened in shock, but Harry wasn’t finished. Ignoring the pains all over his body, he sat up in bed, and glared at Snape.

“I was the Chosen One. So I’m sure that every summer you… whose job it was to protect me, watched me being treated like a bloody house elf and did nothing about it. Did you enjoy yourself, eh?”

Harry knew that he was going too far, that he was being unfair, but he wasn’t able to stop himself.

“There were so many signs that I don’t believe that… that a man who acts as if he is more intelligent than anyone else around him… didn’t spot them. I’m sure you were glad to see that the Boy-You-Hate having the crap beaten out of him. And as a punishment you took points and gave detentions and tried everything to make my life at Hogwarts hellish, too.”

Harry was shocked at the words which escaped his own mouth. Every single one seemed to come from a further distance than the previous one. He felt as if the Harry he knew was escaping and something else took over. It was frightening and Harry again wondered when he had become such a coward. But he wasn’t yet finished.

“You know… I think if you’d loved her… really loved her, you would have made sure that her son had a half-decent home.”

Harry stopped abruptly, astounded by his own cruelty and vehemence and stared down at his trembling hands. He wasn’t able to face his former Potions Master as he didn’t want to see what his words had done to him.

He took his glasses off, threw them away, drew his knees close to his body and buried his face in his arms. All the anger was gone and he was shattered and just wanted to be left alone.

Harry wanted to apologise but felt so desperately stupid. Grief and sadness overwhelmed him and he started to cry. Raw, painful sobs escaped his throat and his hand flew to his mouth to stop them. He felt a stinging pain from his ribs, but he couldn’t control it. Then he heard a loud scream from somewhere and it took him a while to realise that it came from inside himself. It was as if he was standing aside, watching. Something exploded in his chest, something that had wanted to escape for years, and that was the moment Harry completely lost it, started thrashing and kicking and howling like a little child.

He felt someone trying to constrict him, but he had no idea who it was anymore and managed to break free.

From a now even longer distance he heard himself beg for it to stop, for someone to make it stop. By now, the hysteria that he had always feared was taking charge.

“Listen to me.” He could hear. But was unable to listen. Words didn’t make any sense. Two hands grabbed his cheeks and turned his head. Black eyes stared into the green.

Harry heard himself weeping… and the other person in the room repeating something in a soothing but increasingly breaking voice.

“It will stop eventually.” said the voice, and in an even gentler tone that seemed to be inside his head it added: “It always does.” Before Harry could move or thrash anything else, he felt strong arms encircle him, holding him so tight that he was unable to move. The noises came closer, as he forced himself back to reality.

Harry, now a little more aware of what was going on and who was with him, told himself that Snape was holding him to keep him from smashing any more things or killing himself, but didn’t feel like it. It felt as if he was trying to comfort him.

It will stop. It always does, Harry thought desperately as he tried to regain some control, but he wasn’t able yet. It always does.

It took him a while to grasp the whole meaning of the sentence, but repeating it over and over again worked. After a few more minutes, Harry said: “I’m alright” and pushed Snape away, feeling deeply ashamed.

“You need to rest,” he said, but sounding so very different that Harry focused on the man’s angular face, as if to check if it really was Snape. He thought he could see tears glittering in his eyes and was so surprised, that he didn’t look away. They disappeared and Harry thought he had been mistaken.

“I’m sorry,” muttered Harry. “I really didn’t mean what I said, it was just…” he didn’t know what to say. The awkward silence that followed, didn’t help at all. Tiredness and exhaustion came over him, but he felt that he owed Snape an apology. The man sat down on the chair that was already standing beside his bed. Harry wondered how long Snape had sat there, after Vernon attacked him and felt even more embarrassed.

“Any of the staff would have been happy to raise you, Potter.” Snape pointed his wand at the glasses on the floor, repared them with an occulus reparo and handed them back to Harry, who wanted to say something, but felt that the Professor wasn’t finished and therefore waited patiently.

“Dumbledore insisted that the only place where you are safe is with those muggles. Your mother… died to protect you, and only because of that were you safe until you became of age. No one was ready to throw away what she had given you.”

“But-“

“But. No one knew just exactly how severe the mistreatment was. If you had ever spoken up, things could have been different.”

“Are you saying it’s my fault?”

“Absolutely not, Potter. Your behaviour was… typical. The fault was ours.”

Harry thought about Snape’s words for a while, then remembered that on a number of occasions he had begged Dumbledore to not send him back to the Dursleys.

“I tried to tell him. I asked Professor Dumbledore to stay, but his decision always seemed so final. You know what he’s like once he made a decision.”

Snape snorted sarcastically and ran his hands through the greasy hair.

“I do. I really do.”

“I know.”

The man stood up and walked over to the sink, as gracefully as he possibly could, to splash some cold water into his face. He staggered a little and Harry’s eyes fell on the empty whiskey bottle and wondered if he had only been so… civil because he was drunk.

When Snape came back, he sat down on the chair and clutched his head.

“Hangover?” Harry smirked. He suddenly felt cheery. Relieved. As if some ugly spot inside him, full of of pus had finally burst.

“It was an antidote.”

“Of course.”

Snape pressed a button next to his bed and a few moments later, Madame Pomfrey rushed in.

“I thought I heard something,” she said and then pointed a finger at Snape. “Have you put up silencing charms again, Severus?” she asked when she saw how shaken Harry looked.

Snape didn’t answer and Harry remembered that he started to put up silencing charms around his bed in sixth year so that nobody was able to hear him talk in his nightmares or cry out.

“This is a hospital. We need to be able to hear our patients. Do that one more time and I’ll keep your wand until the day of your release.”

Snape still didn’t respond, but scowled at her instead. Pomfrey looked as if she had the two men exactly where she wanted to have them. Defenseless. With a satisfied look, she turned around to Harry.

“Mr. Potter, you need to lie down.” She pulled out a few vials. “Take them.”

The tastes were familiar. Painkilling potion, Skele-Gro, Dreamless Sleep Potion. Then she passed him another vial that contained a brown, unfamiliar liquid.

“What is that?”

“Antidepressant potion.”

“I don’t need it.” Harry pushed her hand away and lied down. He was so tired.

“Are we going to have a problem?” she asked annoyed. Harry sighed. “I don’t need it, really.”

“Well, it is not your choice at the moment, Mr. Potter.” Harry looked over to Snape who still sat in the chair, glaring at him.

“I am sure that Professor Snape would assist me and…”

“Fine, fine.” Harry gave up and took the vial out her hand. It was almost tasteless.

She regarded him for a moment, then pointed her wand at him to give him a check.

“Better?” she asked tentatively, now pointing her wand at his lower stomach, where Vernon had kicked him so hard.

Harry, not wanting to make a fuss, or getting more questionable medication, nodded.

Madame Pomfrey turned towards Snape and gestured for him to lie down, too. Harry saw, that apart from the Skele-Gro, he got the same potions.

She bent over to him and scrutinised the wound on his neck, which had almost completely healed over. With a satisfied look, she pointed her wand at him and with a flick, removed Snape’s shirt to look at his back. It was covered in scars. Some looked decades old. One deep gash seemed to be fresh. Shocked, Harry turned away and pretended not to have seen anything.

“Nox” was the last thing he heard and then he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.