“He's going to be fine Harry,” Remus soothed, as he squeezed the trembling boy's hand.

Harry clenched his eyes shut against the searing pain that burnt through his scar. Despite the potions that Snape had left for Harry to alleviate the pain, Harry still experienced the cold terror of seeing the world through Voldemort's eyes.

One by one, Harry had seen each of Voldmort's followers being hexed, and cursed with unforgiveables. Harry had tried to hide his concern for Snape from Remus, but the man was just too perceptive.

Remus wrapped a warm blanket around Harry, who was shivering and pale from the visions that he'd been forced to endure.

Remus laid a gentle hand on Harry's arm, as he'd jumped up suddenly, at the clicking sound of the doorknob being turned.

Although Snape had been gone for hours, and it was now early evening; the soft moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains, Harry had been consumed with worry, riddled with visions and experienced excruciating pain, as his scar continued to sear as though someone were holding a candle to his brow.

Harry's breath hitched in his throat at the sight of Snape who had entered the parlour, even more pale than usual, with a trickle of blood rolling down his chin. He clutched onto the edge of the divan, and stared down at the pale boy before him.

“You're bleeding,” Harry said in a strangled voice, and attempted to rise again, but Remus' clasped his slender shoulder, pushing him gently back up against the back of the couch.

Severus cocked an eyebrow at Remus.

“Harry saw everything, Severus,” Remus explained.

Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry. “You were not occluding?” he asked sternly.

Harry bit his lip. “I swear I tried sir, but I couldn't.”

“That is not good enough Potter,” he said coldly.

“Severus,” Remus began. “Harry was already under par from his accident, and he truly did his best-”

“His best is not good enough,” Snape roared. “ He is putting both of our lives at risk, should the Dark Lord suspect that the boy is not only residing with me, but that the potion is a placebo, and that I've adopted him.”

“I understand that Severus, but don't you think that you're being a little harsh with him.”

Snape scowled at Remus. “I don't have time to coddle him Lupin; you know that better than anyone.”

“Did you eat yet Potter?” Snape suddenly demanded.

Harry stared at the man. He thought that he'd never figure the man out. One minute he was laying into him for not Occluding, and the next minute, he was concerned that he hadn't eaten.

“Uh...no sir. I wasn't very hungry,” Harry said softly. It was impossible to think about eating, when you had to witness your new-found father in the throes of an extremely painful Crucio. It was difficult to watch the proud man before him, being reduced to a trembling mass of tortured limbs, flailing; the blood draining from his face, and clenching his teeth to stop himself from screaming. Despite the man's extreme discipline, it must have been difficult to push the pain to the furthest recesses of his mind.

Snape looked like hell, but still managed to present a menacing front, as he glared at Harry, as he towered over him.

Snape directed his gaze at Remus. “Will you make sure that he eats Lupin? We have some leftovers in the ice-box.”

Remus blinked in surprise. “Of course Severus.”

Severus nodded. He couldn't bring himself to thank Lupin, but he had to admit that he was grateful for the man's swift response to his summons. Severus didn't delude himself into thinking that Lupin gave a fig about his welfare; he knew that the wolf cared deeply for Potter, and that the boy would be in good hands and seemed the logical choice to leave the boy with, when he'd been called by the Dark Lord, shortly after Potter had been injured.

Severus swiped the small trickle of blood oozing from his swollen lip, and after once last glance, mounted the staircase, dragging his broken and abused body with him.

Once in the privacy of his bedroom, Severus retrieved some potions from his bedside table, that he kept for the sole purpose of treating the after-effects of the Dark Lord's punishments.

He uncorked the phial, and quickly downed the bitter liquid; a warm glow radiated through his battered body and numbed the pain. Severus laid down on his bed, and for once allowed himself to succumb to the relief of slumber.

-----

“Potter.”

Harry, who was seated on the carpet, leaning over the parchment-laden coffee table; the end of the quill between his teeth, looked up to face the dark man, who was sneering at him, over the edge of his overly-large nose.

“Yes sir?”

“I need to go into town to purchase some supplies.”

“Can I go with you sir?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Don't be a fool,” Snape snapped. “Harry Potter cannot be seen strolling the aisles of the local supermarket, pushing a grocery cart, with one of the Dark Lord's most loyal followers,” he sneered.

Harry's face flamed. “Oh right.”

“No, you will remain here and work on your schoolwork,” he said coolly, as he leant down to pick up the essay that Harry had been working on.

He winced as Snape's dark eyes scanned the parchment, and his face twisted into a scowl. Harry knew that it was not his best effort, and he braced himself for the scathing comments, that he knew would be forthcoming.

“What is this?” he said slamming the parchment back onto the coffee table, leaning in to loom over him.

Harry jerked back at the sudden movement, jabbing his shoulder blades on the back of the divan.

“You will re-write this.”

“But sir--” Harry protested.

Snape cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes sir.”

Snape straightened up his tall form. “I will be back shortly,” he said, piercing Harry with his obsidian eyes. “Remember the rules. Do not open the door for anyone, under any circumstance. Do not leave the house, and do not enter any room, that you've been forbidden to.”

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yes sir.”

Snape stared at Harry for a moment. “I'd better not find out that you've disobeyed me Potter, or you will not like the consequences,” he said menacingly. “Do we understand one another?”

Harry gulped. “Yes sir.”

Harry raked his fingers through his untidy hair, and stared despairingly at the empty parchment in front of him. He just couldn't keep his mind on his work. Not when there was a room upstairs...A room that begged to be explored. Never mind the little voice inside his head that said that were he to be caught, Snape would used him as Potions ingredients.

Harry's limbs seemed to move of their own volition towards the staircase, and up the stairs. With each step closer to his destination, his heart thudded louder against his chest, until he stood before the closed door, licking his dry lips and wiping his sweaty brow.

What the hell was he doing? He knew he shouldn't do this. His hand however, had other plans. Harry's moist palm, slipped against the cold metal door handle, and Harry took a deep breath and turned it, only to bite his lip in frustration, when the door refused to budge.

Now what? Well...magic was out of the question, and since Snape probably had possession of the key, and neither he nor the greasy git sported hairpins...

Harry stamped his foot impatiently. He wanted to see what was in that room. He was burning with curiosity.

He bent down and pressed the lenses of his glasses over the keyhole; he squinted one eye to see better, and clenched the other one shut.

All he could see through the keyhole, were shadows of darkness.

Harry kicked the closed door in a fit of temper, and to his surprise, the door popped open.

Harry scrutinized the room, with a sweep of his eyes, taking in the yellowed curtains, adorning the pale walls, the thick layer of dust that coated the walls and ceilings. There was a single bureau and bed that was stripped down to it's mattress. It was clear that no one had occupied this room in a long time.

Harry scratched his head. What was so special about this room? Why was Snape so adamant that he not enter?

Harry was about to turn around and leave the room, when his eyes were drawn to the large oak bureau. He pulled open the top drawer slowly, and his breath hitched in his throat when he spotted a manila envelope lying on top, addressed to Lily Evans. Stamped in large red print, were the words, Return to Sender. Harry slowly picked up the envelope. He opened the flap with trembling fingers, and opened the letter; not daring to breathe.

Harry could feel tears tug at the corner of his eyes, as his eyes scanned over the contents of the letter.

Dearest Lily,

I know that I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I don't blame you, if you never speak to me again, but I wish you to know that you always have been and always will be my best friend.

I deeply regret that my thoughtless words have hurt you so, and I hope that one day, you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

Your friend,

Severus.

Harry stared at the letter, his mouth hanging open. His mother and Snape were friends? And just what did Snape do, that he needed her forgiveness?

Before Harry had a chance to contemplate this question further, he gasped as a large hand clamped down on his shoulder.

He was spun around to face Snape; the thin lines of his mouth drawn in a straight line, and his face white with fury.

“Just what to you think that you're doing Potter?” Snape said in a dangerous voice.

Harry's tongue froze in his mouth. He could only stare in horror at the murderous-looking man, looming over him.

Harry's eyes watered, as Snape grabbed his upper arm, in a vice-like grip and dragged him out of the room and down the hall. He opened the door to Harry's room and shoved him in there.

Snape's obsidian eyes glinted dangerously. “I would advise you not to step one toe out of your room until I can control my temper Potter, or I cannot be held responsible for the consequences. You will remain in here, until I tell you otherwise.”

Harry could only nod. He knew that he had crossed the line this time; even more so than when he'd entered the Pensieve.

Harry felt the tears prickle his eyes, as he heard the door click behind Snape. He held his breath for a moment, wondering if the man would lock the door behind him, but all Harry could hear was Snape's footsteps retreating down the hallway, and the clacking of Snape's boots on the stairs, until the sound faded away.

Harry flopped down on his bed, and curled up into a ball. He clutched onto the bed covers and after what seemed like many hours, feeling the blood pounding in his ears, drifted off to a disturbed sleep.

“Potter,” a stern voice roused Harry from his tortured slumber.

Harry forced his heavy eyelids open, to reveal a now calm-looking Snape standing in the doorway.

“Come...it is time for dinner,” he said coldly, and swept out of the room.

Harry stared at the open door. He had been certain that the man would let him rot in his bedroom, at least until tomorrow--if not for several days.

------

Harry stood in the doorway of the kitchen, anxiously twisting his fingers through the soft fabric of his jumper.

“Sit down Potter,” Snape said, as he placed a plate of hot food before him.

“Thank you,” Harry said in a small voice.

The food smelled delicious, but Harry's stomach swirled with anxiety. He picked at his mashed potatoes with his fork.

He jumped when Snape barked, “Stop playing with your food Potter, and eat.”

“Yes sir,” Harry said nervously, swallowing his food in a lump.

Snape finished his meal and narrowed his eyes at Harry.

“I think that it is high time that we address your total disregard for other's privacy, Mr. Potter.”

“I'm really sorry sir.”

Snape slammed his hand down on the table, making the cutlery clatter as it rose and fell back down on the table.

“Your apologies mean nothing Mr. Potter, when you keep committing the same offence over and over, now does it?” he snarled.

Harry lowered his eyes.

“I do believe that as your punishment, it would be appropriate to assign you a six foot essay on the importance of respecting other's privacy. Since you will also lose the privilege of having free time after you chores and studies for a week, you can use this time to complete your essay.”

Harry sighed in resignation. He supposed that he was getting off rather easy, considering that this was the second time that he'd snooped into Snape's personal affairs.

---------

The next several weeks went a little smoother, and Harry marveled at how he and Snape actually spent more and more time together, that wasn't involved in tense moments and bitter resentment. Harry had endured his week-long punishment; he figured that it was better than being strangled by the man, or having a jar of dead cockroaches barely miss his head, he supposed. Not being allowed to spend his afternoons flying, or spending time outdoors had been tough, but he figured that he had escaped the worst of Snape's wrath, and he'd deserved to be punished.

Harry figured that Snape must have finally forgiven him for his lapse in judgment though, because they eventually fell into a comfortable routine, and the man seemed to have lost a bit of his harsh edge. The man was still stern, and reserved, but he seemed to have lost the pleasure of insulting Harry's father, and belittling him at every turn.

Harry was taken by surprise at how he treasured the time that he spent with the man brewing, and each evening playing chess and sometimes simply each reading in their respective large armchairs before the hearth, sipping on hot cocoa; or rather Harry would sip on hot cocoa, while Snape nursed a glass of fine wine, or brandy.

Although things were going much better than he'd anticipated, Harry was waiting for the inevitable to happen. Each time that Snape was called away, Harry's stomach twisted with anxiety. Harry knew that eventually Voldemort would figure it all out, and then Snape would be in grave danger.

Harry couldn't understand why Snape was even continuing this farce, when it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped.

---------

“Sir, I think that the potion is ready,” Harry said, staring down at the bubbling concoction.

Snape came over and peered down into the cauldron; a satisfied look appeared on his harsh features. As usual, there was no fanfare, no endless words of praise, but a simple, “Satisfactory.”

Harry knew that the man would never be overly demonstrative, and he accepted that. The subtle look of pride that briefly flashed over the man's sallow face, was enough for Harry.

“Very well then, extinguish the flame, and put the cover on. I do believe that it is time for dinner,” he said smirking when Harry's stomach growled loudly.

They climbed the stairs back up to the main level; Snape had a full potions lab set up in his basement; of course, Harry thought acerbically.

As Harry finished his last forkful of stew; dipping his thick slice of crusty bread into the gravy, he noticed an odd expression appear on Snape's face. The man looked almost uncomfortable; unsure of himself...very un-Snape-like.

He placed his elbows on the table, and laced his long fingers together. He peered at Harry from over the top of his hands; his dark eyes pensive-looking.

“I gather that you have been wondering about that letter that you found; the one addressed to your mother.”

Harry blinked in surprise. The man almost never spoke of anything personal, despite their lessening animosity for each other. The closest they came to any real bonding as father and son, was when they brewed together, or played a light-hearted game of chess; if one could call any action that Snape performed, light-hearted. Although, Harry had to admit, that from time-to-time, the man surprised him with his dry, witty sense of humour. The first time that the man had cracked a joke, Harry had gawked at him in disbelief.

“Uh...kind of,” Harry said softly.

They'd not spoken again of Harry's little foray into the forbidden room, since Snape's scathing lecture, immediately after Harry's indiscretion. It was as though they had an unspoken agreement to avoid the subject altogether. That did not lessen the severity of his punishment however. Although Harry still thought that it could have been much worse. After all, the man was knowledgeable in the Dark Arts; he could have easily thrown a couple of hexes, Harry's way.

Severus stared silently at the boy for a moment. He wondered at this sudden need to enlighten the boy about his past with Lily. Perhaps the potion was making him soft, but he no longer saw the boy as an extension of James Potter. Yes, the effects of the potion were strong, and he was most certainly feeling this wave of protectiveness towards the child that he couldn't explain, however, it was Potter's own behaviour that had changed Severus' mind about him.

Whereas, he'd always thought of the boy as selfish, and arrogant, Severus began to see that he was not those things at all. Yes, the boy could be stubborn, rash and had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever, but he was also surprisingly unselfish and kind towards those he cared about.

Although the boy must be rather lonely at times; after all, spending your time with an irascible, bitter man, day-after-day, mustn't be particularly pleasant, but he refrained from whining about wanting to see his friends. It seemed that Potter's utmost concern was his friends' safety. Although, Snape was not pleased to see that the boy didn't award himself with the same consideration. He'd had to reprimand the boy continuously for performing dangerous stunts on his blasted broom, almost crashing head-first to the ground, many a time. It seemed that punishing the boy by confiscating his broom, had had no effect whatsoever. As soon as he returned Potter's broom, the idiot boy returned to his dangerous behaviour.

Finally Severus had decided that he was wasting his breath on the hard-headed boy, and he simply put a cushioning charm over the area that the boy liked to fly over. This of course elicited a scathing response from the little fool, that he could take care of himself and wouldn't tolerate being treated like a five-year-old; at which Severus responded by saying that it was either the cushioning charm, or he'd lock up the boy's broom until he was of age. At which, Harry grabbed the broomstick from the hall closet; grumbling as he walked out the door. The subject was never brought up again, but at least Severus' nerves didn't take a beating anymore.

“Your mother and I grew up together; we were...friends, before we started at Hogwarts,” Severus said; the light illuminated the look of pain that flashed briefly, in the man's cold eyes.

Harry furrowed his brow. “You were friends? But, it didn't look like that, I mean, in the Pensieve-”

Harry's mouth dropped in horror. “I mean, uh-”

Snape raised an eyebrow at him. Harry felt his face warm up.

“We were sorted into different Houses, and your father and his friends,” he said; his lip curling in a sneer, “saw to it that your mother and I grew apart.”

Harry's hand tightened against the folds of the napkin that he'd been fiddling with. Harry had not much appreciated his father's behaviour that he'd witnessed in the Pensieve, but on the other hand, he felt conflicted when Snape spoke ill of him.

Severus closed his eyes shut for a moment. He brought the subject up for a reason, and he couldn't sugar-coat his own culpability in the matter.

Severus allowed his eyelids to flutter open, to see startlingly-green eyes staring at him expectantly.

“As much as I would like to lay the blame on your father for your mother's and mine deteriorating relationship, I must assume an equal amount of responsibility, however.”

Harry's brow furrowed. “What do you mean sir? I mean, I know that my father and Sirius were cruel to you.” Harry bowed his head. “I'm rather ashamed of his behaviour actually,” Harry admitted.

“Harry, while I have admittedly treated you less than kindly over the years, because of my grudge against your father, I have to admit that-” He paused, feeling his gut wrenching with bitter regret and pain. “eventually your father grew up, and made your mother...happy,” he finally bit out. Oh Merlin, it was difficult to admit out loud that Potter was anything but the arrogant toerag that he'd been in school, but as deeply as he loved Lily, he'd only wanted her happiness. Unfortunately, Potter seemed to be able to provide that, whereas he'd been lacking.

“No, as much as I'd like to say that your father is responsible for all my troubles, the truth of the matter is that I let myself fall prey to the allures of Dark Magic, and I allowed myself to believe that the Dark Lord and his followers cared about me, like no one else had; not my father, not the Headmaster, who failed to protect me time and time again from your father and Black, and I convinced myself that his biases and beliefs were harmless. I tried to pretend that no one would get hurt; I was quickly dispelled of that belief,” he said bitterly.

“I didn't see it at the time, but my new friends,” he spit out disgustingly, “tried to mold me, and brainwash me into accepting their belief that only Purebloods were worthy, and I continually strived to impress them. Your mother begged me to stop hanging around with Malfoy, Nott and Avery, and all those others who pretended to be my friends... pretended to care,” he sneered.

“What you didn't know...what you didn't see, after that little scene in the Pensieve with your father, was that your mother tried to defend me. I, who was so concerned that my newfound friends would think me weak at having a girl; a Muggle no less, fight my battles for me, let the words slip from my lips; the words that would forever haunt me the rest of my days...the words that I couldn't ever take back.”

Harry could see the conflict and pain reflected in the harsh lines of Snape's face; the hurt mirrored in his dark eyes.

“What words were those?” Harry asked softly, although he'd already guessed.

“I called her a Mudblood,” Snape said, emotion clogging his throat. He thought that he'd built sufficient barriers over the years, against the pain and against the bitter regret, but staring at the boy he'd come to care for these past few weeks; the boy whose innocent young face, stared back at him with her eyes, he found that he only felt shame.

“That's why you were asking her forgiveness?” Harry asked quietly.

“Yes.”

Harry looked up, and for the first time ever, felt compassion and though he knew that it would be unwelcome from the proud man, pity as well.

“I'm certain that she would have forgiven you sir. I mean you've, uh-” he twisted his fingers together nervously. He looked at Snape earnestly. “I know in my heart, that she's forgiven you sir. How could she not have? I mean, even when you hated me,” Harry stopped abruptly, his face flaming. He didn't want to assume that the man didn't still hate him, after all. “I mean, I hope that you don't still hate me," he stammered.

“Stop rambling Potter...Harry,” he smirked. “I do believe that we've covered this subject more than once over the past few weeks. “If it hasn't penetrated your thick skull, let me reiterate...although you are a pain in the arse, stubborn as hell, reckless, scatter-brained, and undisciplined-”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the man. “If you're trying to say that you don't hate me anymore sir; no offence, but you're doing a rather poor job of it,” he said cheekily.

“Brat,” Snape said almost affectionately.

“What I'm trying to say sir, is that even when you hated my guts; loathed the ground I've walked on, you still saved my hide over and over again. These past few weeks, you've given me a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and even my own room. It's a hell of a lot better than my Aunt and Uncle ever gave me.” Harry stopped, slapping his hand over his mouth.

Severus clenched his fists. He'd heard that Alastor had exacted some revenge on the boy's relatives, but Severus was surprised at how fierce the urge was to apply a little of his own on those worthless Muggles. Petunia had always been a nasty piece of work, and he wasn't surprised that her jealousy over Lily's beauty and kindness had spilt over onto her son.

He looked at the boy now, whose pale face was flushed in embarrassment and shame.

He surprised both himself and the boy, when he placed his large, cold hand over the child's smaller, warm one.

“Look at me Potter...Harry,” he commanded.

Harry raised his eyes to meet Snape's.

“I will say this once, and once only. A child is never responsible for the abuse they suffer at the hands of the adults in charge of them.”

Severus removed his hand, and laced them together on the tabletop.

“I apologise as well,” he began uncomfortably; apologies were not his forté, after all, “for my appalling treatment of you for the past five years. I allowed myself to be blinded by my own insecurities and there is no excuse for exacting revenge against an innocent child; your mother would have been deeply ashamed of me,” he said in a strangled voice.

“It's okay sir,” Harry said softly. “It's in the past.”

“Yes, it is,” Severus said gruffly, as he rose from his seat. This conversation had been just a tad too personal for his liking, and he'd had his quota of sappy emotion-filled conversation for a lifetime.

“Now, I do believe that after we do the dishes and cleanup, perhaps a game of chess would be in order.”

Harry grinned. The man was so transparent. He just couldn't stand when the conversation got too mushy. Besides, although the man could still soundly trounce him in chess, Harry did feel that his game was improving; it never hurt to learn strategy and cunning from the ultimate Slytherin.