Harry did not usually think about what he was going to do before he did it. If he had, the boy most likely would not have done half the things he did….

Tonight was no different from all those other sudden adventures. Harry needed something, and Snape had what he needed.

The solution was, of course, to go and get it…without the Potion’s master realizing something of his had been stolen. This is where the difficulty lay.

The Invisibility Cloak helped him, and so did the Marauder’s Map, but Snape would know something was missing, he always did. Moreover, when something goes wrong, the logical thing to do in Snape’s mind is to blame Harry.

Because no one else dislikes him, Harry thought sarcastically as he tiptoed through the halls.

The storage room adjoined to the classroom. Harry had been there hundreds of times as he gathered supplies. On the far end of the large room were ready made potions, and those were what Harry was heading for.

Reaching the dungeons unharmed and without seeing a ghost, poltergeist or professor, Harry was feeling rather confident as he made his way to the classroom.

When he was standing before the large door, Harry took a deep breath. No going back now, he thought and reached out a hand from beyond the folds of the cloak. The cold brass handle quickly warmed as Harry wrapped his fingers around it. The door didn’t creak as he slowly pushed it open and peaked inside.

The classroom looked odd deserted as it was.

Desks and stools lined up in two neat rows, with Snape’s desk at the head of the class, not that he sat there often.

When Harry was brewing, it seemed that Snape liked to sneak around the room. Then suddenly he would appear at Harry’s shoulder when he least expected it. Scowling at several memories that came to mind at that thought, Harry ducked inside the room closing the door behind him with a snap.

First things first, get what he’d come for. Heading towards the storage room with a decisive step, Harry threw off the Invisibility Cloak and folded it up as small as possible. Drawing his wand, he shoved the heirloom into one of his large robe’s pockets for safekeeping.

Harry tried to open the storage room but the door would not budge.

Magic it was then, he cast a normal unlocking charm…and to his uttermost surprise, it worked.

Snape is getting lazy, Harry thought with a disappointed shake of his head as he went inside the storage room.

“Lumos,” he cast in a whisper and looked around approvingly as light filled the room.

Tall shelves almost touched the ceiling; they towered over Harry as he walked between them.

Snatches of Snape’s spiky handwriting could be read, as Harry looked over the jar labels out of curiosity.

“Newt eyes,” Harry read aloud, “pickled seaweed, thestral nails, lacewing flies, mermaid hair, fluxweed, lamb hearts.”

Wincing at the last one, Harry looked to the right where the pure liquid ingredients were stacked alphabetically.

One vial captured his attention, phoenix tears, the label read. It must have cost Snape a lot to get a hold on that, Harry thought.

Figuring he had lingered too long, Harry walked straight to the end of the isle. The already made potions were kept here, most were for emergencies if something happened in class. Some, however, were from where students had made potions during class, and the acceptable ones remained here.

“D, d, d,” Harry muttered, one finger sliding across the glass vials in search of the one he wanted. “Hah, Dreamless Sleep Potion.”

While Harry could usually handle the nightmares, and the nights of little to no sleep, they brought with them, he could not have bad scores during the tests he was bound to face the next few days.

Hermione had drilled her new mantra into his head, ‘A good sleep promises you’ll be less grumpy in the morning, and work better in your classes because of it. This is our O.W.L.’s year, boys, we have to try and get the best grades possible. After all, our future depends on it!’.

His future, as bleak as it seemed, was something Harry wanted to make the best of.

With Voldemort trying to break into his mind though, it was very hard to sleep well at night. He’d been rather irritable these last few days, and Harry knew the reason for that all too well.

Because honestly, how good could one sleep when closing his eyes meant a different vision of panic and terror.

His hand had just closed around the vial of Dreamless Sleep--when the door to the storage room slammed shut.

With a surprised gasp, Harry jumped around, and that was when it happened.

The knuckles of his hand brushed against the other tubes and vials on the shelf next to his much-desired Dreamless Sleep. They fell even as Harry cursed and grabbed for them in vain. They landed on the hard, stone floor one by one. Horrible cracking noises filled the air and Harry winced at each one.

Groaning quietly at his predicament, and shaking slightly as his heart beat in his chest, Harry reached for the one potion vial that had not broken.

He didn’t notice the sludge that had become a puddle near his foot, that is, not until it caused him to fall face first among the glass and spilled concoctions.

“Ahh!” Harry shouted in alarm and pain. Small bits of glass dug into the skin of his arms and knees. His face was unharmed, and Harry took a deep breath.

Straightening up slowly, Harry hit his head on the desk, but it was nothing compared to the throb beginning in his left arm.

God, could it possibly get any worse? What the hell had he been thinking, of course, not even a simple excursion could go well when it involved him! He might as well fall down on his knees in front of Snape, and tell him everything he had every done to spite the man.

Head throbbing, Harry closed his eyes to try to regain his bearings. It was hard to do with that odd noise above him.

Cracking one eye, Harry reached for his wand he had dropped. It was still lit, and he pointed it up toward the noise; just in time to see one last vial fall from the shelf.

Harry shielded his face, but not before several large drops hit his face and rolled down his skin. Wonderful. For all he knew that could be essence of skunk dripping off his chin right now. Sighing, Harry stood and flinched at his bloody arms. The wounds however, were soon to be the least of his problems. Behind him, the door to the storage room was opening.

There was only one person it could be.

That didn’t stop Harry from hoping he was wrong. Ron could have woken up while he was gone, and…figured he had gone to steal a Dreamless Sleep Potion from Snape’s supplies room? Not very likely.

Willing himself to be brave, Harry turned around on his knees, not caring if more glass was stuck in his skin. Maybe he’d bleed to death and save Snape the trouble of killing him.

A wand lit up in the doorway, and the person slowly came into the room.

The dread pouring into Harry’s stomach turned into ice as a black boot stepped inside the doorway, and a black cloak followed. Swallowing, Harry let his eyes slowly trace up Snape’s form, dreading the moment their eyes met, before finally resting on the man’s furious face.

“Why is it,” Snape began in a dangerously soft tone, “that whenever something unpleasant happens, you are always in the midst of it?”

Harry couldn’t speak. He opened his mouth to try to say…something, but could never find the words and his mouth shut silently.

“Nothing to say?” Snape asked is mock disbelief as he came forward slowly.

Harry broke eye contact, feeling overwhelmed, and rather dizzy now that he thought about it. What had been in those potions anyway?

Standing warily, Harry waited for the ax to fall. What would it be, a months worth of detention? Perhaps two hundred points from Gryffindor.

His knees wobbled and Snape brought one hand up to trace around his mouth as he studied the scene. Suddenly, those black eyes narrowed in on Harry’s hand.

“Give me that,” he said sharply and Harry looked down.

The potion he had come down for was still in his hand. Harry held it out, and Snape snatched it up. His face showing nothing as he read the label.

“Is this what you came down here for?”

Harry nodded, but the unctuous man was not satisfied with that.

“Are you suddenly mute, Potter?” he asked in a snarky tone while pocketing Harry’s Dreamless Sleep Potion.

“I--the door slammed--and I,” Harry shut up, knowing very well that his stuttering would only fuel Snape’s insults. Closing his eyes against a dizzy spell, Harry took a deep breath to try and explain himself better.

“I slammed the door, you foolish boy,” Snape said aggressively. “Unfortunately, it seems that you can’t just jump when you’re scared. No, you have to go and ruin a whole month’s worth of potions!” he raged.

His legs were feeling weaker now, Harry blinked. Everything looked rather off center….

He heard someone step close suddenly. Snape, Harry realized with a kind of dozy dislike and apprehension.

The world tilted and he fell straight into someone. The robes he wore were slightly damp. Snape’s arms were holding his upper body off the ground and Harry heard swear words.

His eyes felt heavy and his limbs weak, what was happening?

“What…?” Harry murmured turning his head, and blinking confusedly.

“The potions you broke, and then wallowed in, probably contained a light sedative, Potter.” Snape bit out. “You’ll likely go in and out of it.”

Harry felt his wand drop from his hand and to the stones. He felt more than heard Snape breathing in deeply to keep his patience. One of the arms holding him up moved to go under his knees.

“You are more trouble than you’re worth, I don’t care what Albus says,” Snape said to him, sure Harry was too far out of it to understand anyway, and Harry couldn’t find it with himself to respond. His worry and fears of punishment were fading away to this new world where everything was just fine.

Snape used his shoulder to push open the storage room door, and then carried Harry into the classroom. Wanting to be put down, Harry struggled weakly.

“Gerroff! Put me down,” he said grumpily.

Ignoring him, Snape kicked open the door to his office. The sharp sound of the door hitting the wall silenced Harry. The room held a couch against one wall, there was an unlit fireplace across from that.

At the front of the room stood Snape’s desk strewn with papers, books and few quills.

Snape dropped Harry unceremoniously on the couch and grabbed his chin. Staring at him uncomfortably, Harry decided to stay quiet as the professor checked his pulse and then looked into his eyes.

“You landed in Veritaserum, Potter. The potion reduces you to a very docile state, which would explain why you aren’t screaming abuse or raising a ruckus like usual.”

Frowning, Harry wanted to protest against that, but what to say? Had he screamed at Snape a lot, or pitched childish fits for that matter? He did not think so. Something was nagging at him though, something about Veritaserum…what did it do again?

Harry looked to the side at Snape who was squatting next to him and looking at his arms.

Most of the cuts were small, but a few larger ones still bled as Harry looked at them interestedly. Snape touched his wand lightly to the scrapes and cuts, healing them before moving to the other arm.

“Madam Pomfrey is gone for a few days, Potter,” Snape said. “I have a good mind to leave you injured.”

Harry frowned, because after all, that wasn’t very nice.

Snape noticed the look and mistook it for confusion. “I am healing you--but only because I’ve got a better idea for a punishment.”

Not liking the sound of that, Harry tried to pull his arm away but Snape held fast.

“You see, even if Veritaserum does not touch the tongue or enter the body, it can still affect you if it touches your skin. Frankly, Potter…you reek of Veritaserum,” Snape said.

Then, a moment later he raised an eyebrow when Harry didn’t immediately respond.

Oh.

Even in his state, Harry could realize that the look meant much suffering and humiliation on his part as he realized just what Veritaserum did. It made people tell the truth, and he had been showered in it.

Finding the strength to sit up, Harry tried to rip his cloak off and dry is still wet face.

Pushing him back down Snape glared. “You’ll exhaust yourself, Potter. Don’t fight it.”

Harry gave a little laugh that should have been more alarmed than it was.

“Don’t fight it?” He asked, voice cracking. “Why would I not fight it? If I don’t you can ask anything you bloody well please! I’d rather eat Mrs. Norris!”

Snape brought up one hand to rub the arch of his nose. The other hand pushed firmly on Harry’s shoulder, keeping him down successfully.

“No matter,” Snape said, “you owe me an explanation. Usually I’m not likely to believe you are telling the truth. However, this way, I know you’re telling the truth. So, let’s begin shall we?”

Harry could do nothing. He knew the truth was that Snape did deserve a good explanation.

The Veritaserum had taken a month to make, and it was expensive.

Plus, think of all the other potions he had broken in his mad scramble. Yes, the least he could do was give Snape a truthful explanation. But after that, what questions would Snape ask him?

Harry knew Snape, with this chance, why the hell would he stop after one question?

Placing a chair in front of the couch, Snape sat down, placing his arms on his knees and twining his fingers together as he leaned forward.

“Tell me, what were you doing in my supplies room, Potter?” Snape asked silkily, his eyes glinting.

As soon as the question was asked, Harry felt the need to respond. Something welled up in his throat when he tried to stop himself from responding, because once he started answering questions, he knew that Snape would be able to ask anything in the world; no matter how private, and Harry would answer him truthfully.

Veritaserum was like the Imperious Curse, but there was no way he could fight this.

“I--I broke into your supply room looking for Dreamless Sleep Potion.” Harry closed his eyes, and waited for what was sure to come.

“Why?”

There it was. Once again, Harry felt the impulse to tell Snape everything, he could not fight it. Lying with his head on the couch armrest, Harry looked away from Snape, not wanting to see his smirk.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Harry said slowly as was glad when it seemed the potion would not force him to go into greater detail.

“Why couldn’t you sleep, Potter?” Snape asked patiently, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

The words came out unchecked.

“Nightmares,” Harry said acerbically, “I can’t sleep because of them, and I wanted to be free of them for a night. So I tried to steal a Dreamless Sleep…and I knew you would be the likeliest person to have them.”

“Nightmares about what?”

“Death. The death of anyone I--love.” Harry whispered. “Anyone I care for, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, the Weasleys, Dumbledore…any of my friends here.”

Although he was always incapable of being taken aback, Snape seemed quite still as he listened. When he responded, it was to reply just as quietly.

“No nightmares about your Aunt, Uncle or cousin being killed?” Snape finally asked.

Harry blanched, and shook his head slowly. From their Occlumency lessons, Snape knew more of Harry’s personal life than Harry was happy with, including how he lived, and who he lived with.

Snape smirked, and that just strengthened Harry’s thoughts. Yes, he knew more than was good.

“Why not ask Madam Pomfrey for the potion? Surely even you knew that breaking into my supplies room would bring forth more harm than good?” Snape said, moving on with his questions.

“She would ask questions,” Harry said, pressing his forehead into the back of the couch.

“You have a problem with that, why exactly?” Snape pressed. Harry closed his eyes.
Of course the man would want to abase him before letting him leave. He should have seen it coming.

“I don’t like it when people ask questions about me,” Harry said in a low tone and glanced at Snape against his better judgment. The man’s eyebrows were creased as he looked at Harry. It was the closest expression to curious Harry had ever seen on Snape’s face.

When he saw Harry looking, Snape cleared his face and asked, “Why do you dislike it when people ask you questions?”

In that moment, Harry hated him more than he ever had. He was useless to stop Snape though, the potion caused him to calm quickly, even though he still felt the undercurrent of anger.

“One teacher at my old Muggle school saw my cousin and how he acted towards me. Beating me up and keeping the other children from getting to close to me. She brought this to my aunt’s attention, as if she already didn’t know. I got punished for her inquiries. They left me in my cupboard over the weekend only opening the door for bathroom breaks and to pass in a small breakfast and dinner. Then, coming to the Wizarding World I got asked to show my scar. They all looked at it in awe, but to me it was just a reminder of my parent’s death--”

“--That’s enough,” Snape snapped. Harry stopped talking with relief.

Snape seemed almost uncomfortable now. He stood and straightened the sleeves of his robes, like he needed something to do with his hands, then turned and lit the fireplace.

“Did you steal the gillyweed from my supplies in your fourth year?” Snape asked softly, still turned away from Harry. For once, Harry was glad to tell the truth.

“No, Dobby did. He’s a house elf working here at Hogwarts.” From where he lay, Harry could see a frown form on Snape’s already unhappy face.

“Why would he do that for you?”

“He…is very loyal. Thinks he owes me something because I set him free from Lucius Malfoy.”

Snape snorted, “Playing with Death Eaters is not the smartest thing to do, Potter….”

“I was twelve,” Harry grumbled in reply, and was slightly surprised he could still talk without his words being an answer to a question. The amount of Veritaserum he’d received must not have been too large, Harry thought. Hopefully the effects would completely wear off before Snape asked something personal.

“What else,” Snape mused, just loud enough so Harry could hear.

Glaring at the man’s back, Harry retorted, “Dumbledore may need you, but this is against the law I’m sure. What makes you think I won’t tell about this?”

Glancing at Harry over his shoulder, Snape smirked. “Potter, who do you plan on telling about this?”

Harry blushed red as the answer came spilling out of his lips, “Not anyone that would do anything about it.”

“Meaning?” Snape asked.

“I’ll tell Ron and Hermione, probably. They will know something happened to me and wonder what; in the end I’ll have to tell them.”

Snape snorted and turned away again. “Did you get that scar on your hand from Umbridge, Potter?”

Harry froze, “Yes,” he said slowly, confession in his voice. “How do you know?”

“I ask the questions,” Snape snapped, then, after a pause, “and I saw it while healing your arms, idiot.”

“Oh,” Harry muttered.

“You could do something about her, Potter,” Snape said with a sound resembling an irritated sigh.

“Me?” Harry snorted. Trying to sit up proved useless, his muscles were still asleep and his tongue was still loose.

“Yes, you, the bloody Boy-Who-Lived has more power than you realize,” Snape said.

“You speak as if we’re two different people,” Harry muttered.

Snape raised an eyebrow, “Aren’t you?”

Harry considered that. There was Harry, the boy still amazed by the Wizarding World and ignorant of all it’s secrets. Then, there was The Boy-Who-Lived, savior even as a baby, providing hope to those who needed it so badly during trying times.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he said while his brain repeated a mantra of, ‘shut up, stupid’ and ‘don’t give him more than what he demands’.

“How come you can see that while others can’t?” Harry mused. His eyes grew wide when he grasped the words that had just slipped out. He was still a trifle tremulous, but so far Snape had not chopped him up into small pieces….

Snape turned slowly to look at him.

Harry avoided his gaze, feeling like a coward all the while. Snape didn’t answer his blurted out question, and Harry was not sure whether to be glad of that or disappointed. Confused, Harry stretched out his legs. He was regaining his strength slowly, he could feel pain in his knee now.

“What would you suggest I do?” Harry asked quietly. “About Umbridge,” he added when Snape looked at him oddly, like he had just sprouted wings.

Scowling, Snape snapped, “I know what you’re talking about, Potter. Why you would ask me, of all people. This is where I question your sanity, and it’s sir or professor.”

Harry shrugged, and at the motion his head reeled. The Veritaserum made him want to collapse into a daze, but since he’d only received part of a dose, Harry was able to fight it, and that was where the headaches came in at.

Snape saw his pained grimace and looked close to rolling his eyes, “I told you not to fight it, Potter.”

In a show of stubbornness, Harry sat up and turned so his feet could touch the floor.

“You’ll regret that,” Snape muttered. “The Veritaserum is wearing off, but the after effects are worse than what you feel while under the potion. About Umbridge though…do what you’ve done before, Potter.”

Have another interview then, Harry thought. That would work, he was pretty sure Luna would not have a problem with it, and Rita Skeeter would do anything to get news to the press first.

“I can do that.”

Happy with his new decision, Harry tried to get up. This was not the smartest thing to do.

His stomach rolled and he tasted something salty enter his mouth.

Snape crossed his arms, “The bathroom’s to your left,” he said with a suffering look. Harry fled to the bathroom.

The door slammed open by Harry’s urgency; he caught a glimpse of dark tiles and a marble sink before he found the loo. He fell to his knees on the cold floor and was promptly sick.

“Ugh,” Harry groaned. He hated this feeling of helplessness, and the emotion was even worse considering it was Snape’s loo he was barfing in. Wonderful.

Another wave of sickness passed over Harry and he bent back over the porcelain rim.

When he emerged again, gasping and choking, Snape was there with a flannel in his outstretched hand, his face stolid.

Glad that no scathing remarks were forthcoming, Harry accepted the flannel with a nod of thanks. Snape left the small room, leaving Harry to regain any dignity he had lost.

Wiping his face, Harry stood and went to rise out his mouth with water from the tap.

Entering the office without appearing embarrassed to a lot of effort on Harry’s part, but he managed in the end.

Snape was sitting at his desk, a vial in front of him, a small, round container, and Harry’s wand beside that.

Seeing his wand, Harry’s attempt to keep from blushing flew out the door and his face flamed. He couldn’t believe he had dropped his wand, of all things.

That was one of the many things Harry learned early on at Hogwarts, you drop or lose your wand when in danger, and you are as good as dead.

Snape turned and followed Harry’s embarrassed gaze to his wand. “You dropped it when the sedative in the potion started to affect you.”

Harry nodded, coming closer and grabbing his wand protectively.

“Will the Veritaserum have worn off now, sir?” Harry asked.

He felt wary now, and his mind was slightly hazy has to what had happened…and he was sleepy. How late was it anyway?

“I’ll test it,” Snape said coolly, and Harry saw the look in his eyes too late to protest.

“What did Ms. Granger do with the ingredients she stole in second year?”

“We made Polyjuice Potion to turn into Crabbe and Goyle so we could sneak into Slytherin without being noticed. We wanted to ask Malfoy if he knew who the Heir of Slytherin was,” Harry said rapidly. Eyes wide, he clapped his hands over his mouth as Snape smiled thinly.

“Yes, I do believe the potion is still working,” he dryly commented.

“That wasn’t right,” Harry commented, glaring.

“Your question was answered, was it not?” The professor’s raised eyebrow made Harry scowl.

Having nothing to say to that, he shifted uncomfortably. “What are you going to do about the…mess I made, sir.”

Snape took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, dark eyes glaring at Harry. “You will come back at seven A.M. and clean it up, then you will assist me in making the potions you destroyed. Also, thirty points from Gryffindor for being out of bed past curfew.”

Harry bowed his head as Snape waved his wand, he could almost hear the rubies dropping from his house’s hourglass.

“I expect you to ask Madam Pomfrey for anything you need in the future, or better yet, Professor McGonagall. She is your Head of House after all,” Snape said and Harry thought back to the times when McGonagall had dismissed his concerns.

“Yes, sir,” he said with a nod. In truth, he was lucky to be getting off so easily.

“Take this tonight,” Snape said, shoving the vial atop his desk towards him. Harry found

himself in a quandary as he stared at the vial.

Dreamless Sleep it read in Snape’s script. He looked up at Snape, expression perplexed, just as the man picked up the small jar and passed it to him as well.

Bemused, Harry looked for writing on the little jar, but found none. “What is this, sir?”

“Scar remover,” Snape said, standing up and moving towards the door to his office. “I expect you to use it on your hand, after the interview, of course.”

“Of course,” Harry repeated, feeling at loss.

Snape opened the door and looked at Harry, the meaning clear.

Cautiously, Harry moved toward the door. “Er, thank you, professor.”

Snape nodded and waited until Harry was out the door and halfway across the classroom before responding.

“Potter?” Harry turned expectantly.

“Yes, sir?”

“If I ever catch you in my supply room again without my permission, I will kill you.”

The door to the office snapped shut.