He was surrounded by fog and mist. It was impossible to see anything in the haze. There were voices being carried upon the wind, but it was difficult to tell from where and whom. The howling wind began to die down. He could make out some words, but they were still a jumble. Slowly, the voices began to clear and visions began to flash before his eyes.

He heard thunder and screams. His mother's pleas that fell to deaf ears. A cold, cruel laugh resonated through the night before it abruptly died and he was enveloped by darkness. The dark veil started clearing but the visions blurred into one another. He saw things, felt things. He felt the warmth of his baby blanket. He saw the years of his life at the Dursleys pass by, the endless darkness of his cupboard. His first day at school, his Aunt and Uncle showering Dudley with presents. His exhilaration the first time he flew on a broom at Hogwarts.

He saw his years at Hogwarts blurring together into a kaleidoscope of images before they began to distinct themselves from one another. The Philosopher's Stone, the Basilisk, the Dementors at the end of his third year. The scenes from the visions began to sharpen. The Triwizard Tournament. He felt himself shiver in remembrance. He could see it clearly now. The Third Task. The creatures from the maze surrounding him before he saw the cup in the path before him.

He saw a movement from his peripheral vision. He turned and saw Cedric standing next to him, smiling.

"Together." He said firmly.

He tried to move his head, to say no. He tried to say it was dangerous. His mouth moved but no sound escaped him. It was like his voice was trapped. He felt his body move, towards the cup with his hand outstretched and saw Cedric moving with him.

'No, we can't. Don't touch it. You'll die.' He tried to scream but found himself unable to.

The scene shifted suddenly. He looked around and found himself standing in the graveyard with Cedric lying on the ground, eyes wide open. Movement from his right caused him to shift into a guarded position, his wand ready, a spell on the tip of his tongue but it was too late. The green light of the killing curse came towards him, striking him-

"You disappoint me." A cold voice spoke into a deadly silent room.

The scene altered again but this time felt different from the previous ones. He looked around and found himself standing in a large ornamented room about half the size of the Great Hall. Once upon a time, it must have been splendid. Now, the plush Persian rugs that decorated the floor were worn and ragged while the decorative tables and mahogany furniture showed wear and age. The deep curtains that may have been a shade of deep maroon were now lank and gray with filth making it look a sickly gray and there was a layer of dust on all the surroundings.

A large chandelier hung from the ceiling giving a soft glow from the candles but illuminating the small cobwebs that rested on its surface. The large French windows filtered the moonlight in slowly through its planes.

There were people in the room as well. A small crowd of five, all wearing black robes who kneeled before him. Their heads were bowed down making it difficult to see their faces.

A smooth, lithe body of a serpent slithered out silently from the darkness of the room behind the kneeling men. It raised itself on his haunches, circling them, waiting in anticipation.

"You had but one task. To find one of them. Yet, you could not even do that." The chilling voice spoke again. He moved pacing sedately before he stopped before the kneeling men.

"Crucio."

Screams rang through the chamber, the only sign of life within the desolate walls. The screams seemed to go on forever before they finally quieted. The kneeling men trembled yet they didn't dare move from the kneeling positions in fear.

"The only source is with Dumbledore." The cold voice began speaking again. He made his way to the large chair and seated himself before the voice continued. "I do not want to be caught off guard. You have two weeks. Find them." A hint of anger escaped from the voice, boiling its blood before it settled.

"Yes Master." Chorused the kneeling men before they gathered themselves and hastily exited the chamber. Silence reined. The serpent slithered across the hall towards him, hissing soothingly before the voice spoke again.

"Pearson."

A slim figure emerged from the shadows making its way towards him. The moonlight shone on the shadowed man allowing him to see his features. The figure was nearly six feet tall, with dirty blond hair cropped short and neatly. He had a square jaw that was accented by the low light in the room and bouncing off his tanned skin. His thin lips were set in a straight line while his hazel eyes shone with a cruel light. He bowed down before him, kissing the hems of his robes. "My Lord." He spoke reverently.

"Rise," he commanded. "You know your task. Are you prepared?"

"Yes, My Lord. I will begin immediately." The man spoke in a cool tone with a gleam of predatory anticipation and a cruel smile upon his thin lips.

"You will report your progress to me at all times Pearson." The cold tone from him demanded.

"Of course, My Lord." Pearson agreed amiably as if there was any doubt.

"You are dismissed." He turned away and looked out the window at the night grounds. Pearson rose and quickly left the chamber. He stared out at the night for some time. His serpent companion made her way to him softly and nudged his hand. He caressed her head gently before he turned and spoke to her.

"Come. I have had enough for the night."

He exited the chambers and began to walk down the hall when the scene shifted as abruptly as before. He was in a long corridor with multiple locked doors on either side of him. A door appeared in front of him at the end of the corridor. He felt gleeful. Yes, this was his door. He walked and then slowly started running to it. This was the key. Just a little further. The door unlocked as he got closer. He reached out his hand, his fingers brushing the doorknob when-

Harry woke up gasping with a start as he felt someone shake him. He looked around wildly, disorientated before his eyes found the form of his Professor hovering above him, looking down. He looked up, squinting and could just barely make out Snape's concerned features. 'Concerned?' Harry thought confusingly, slowly coming to awareness.

"Potter?" Snape inquired softly, his brows furrowed as he looked at Harry intently.

Harry blinked up at him before he felt his glasses placed gently on his face allowing him to see. Harry sat up slightly before he groaned, feeling the pounding in his head and lay back down.

"Pro-Professor?" he questioned tiredly looking up.

"You seemed to be having a nightmare Mr. Potter." He said softly for which Harry was grateful since his head felt like it was going to split.

"Nightmare?" he questioned. He thought back to his dream. Could it be qualified as a nightmare? It was certainly confusing. He could recall hearing his mother's screams and then flashes of his years from Hogwarts. After that however, the dream didn't make any sense to him. He remembered himself standing in an ornament hall. An abandoned manor maybe? He had no idea where it came from though. There were other people there as well including that man that came after the others left. What had Harry feeling uneasy though was the Cruciatus Curse. He was certain he had used it in his dream. Where had that come from though? Harry hated anything to do with the Unforgivable Curses. He vaguely recalled the dream he had last summer before he began his fourth year. Was this dream similar to that?

"Potter?" Snape voice broke Harry out of his musings and he turned to face him. Snape's face had an unreadable expression though his eyes never left Harry's.

Harry shook his head. "It wasn't a nightmare." He said in answer to Snape's previous question. Snape expression didn't change and he continued to look at Harry. Harry squirmed, uncomfortably. "Really. It wasn't." He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. Himself or Snape.

Snape continued to look at him so Harry decided to give a little of the truth to get Snape off his back.

"Memories." He said after taking a deep breath.

There was a flicker of emotion in Snape's eyes before it was gone and Harry wasn't sure whether he had actually seen it or not. Snape leaned back and sat back in the armchair, which Harry just noticed, all the while still not taking his eyes of him.

"I see." He said softly.

Harry looked around for a clock but remembered his room didn't have one. "What time is it?"

"Half past noon."

Harry's eyed widened at that. Half past noon? He never slept that late.

"How are you feeling, Potter?" Snape enquired as he set the newspaper that rested in his lap aside and turned his attention back to Harry.

"A little better." Harry said after a minute. "Head still hurts though." He grimaced as he felt a sharp pain punctuated in his temple.

"I will bring your lunch. After that, Potter, you will take your potion again and rest the remainder of the day." Snape said as he rose from his armchair.

"I have to stay in bed the whole day?" Harry asked incredulously. "I've been in bed to long already. It's not that bad anymore."

"Potter." Snape said sternly turning to him, his voice never raising a decibel. "You have a migraine. A severe one. It can take anywhere from four hours to seventy-two hours for a migraine to be negated. Even if you think you feel better, I am not going to allow you to gallivant about before I have ensured you make a complete and full recovery."

Harry sat up and opened his mouth to argue again when the pain in his temple sharpened. Snape noticed immediately and pushed Harry down firmly. "Lie down."

Harry's head hurt too much for him to argue anymore. The pillow beneath him was a much desired luxury at the moment.

"Could I have my sketchbook at least?" he asked a little timidly, not wanting to speak to loudly in case his head got worse.

Snape looked at Harry with a look that clearly said 'What-part-of-you-need-to-rest-do-you-not-get?' a small frown starting to form between his eyes. He was certain Snape was about to give him a snarky comment. Instead, he was surprised when Snape took a deep breath and released a small, almost inaudible sigh.

"Potter," Snape began mildly, a picture of the utmost patience, "You have a migraine. In order for you to recover, you need complete, absolute rest." There was a heavy emphasis on rest. "Which means," his eyes piercing him as he spoke "no outside stimuli that may excite your condition."

"Come on, I'm stuck in bed with nothing to do. Sir." Harry started, amending his sentence quickly after a look from Snape. "I don't even need to look at anything specific to draw, just a blank page to...doodle." He finished softly, not really wanting to say more but trying to plead his case. He didn't want to come out and admit the real reason he wanted his sketchbook. When Harry was little, drawing was his main past time when he was stuck in his cupboard, especially when he was sick. He could forget the rest of the world, forget his pain and focus on something else other than the fact that his relatives would rather lock him up in his cupboard than take the time to take care of him. Drawing brought him peace and was his escape. He could depict his dreams and wish silently they would come true. He was also hoping to draw some of what he remembered vividly from his dream down on paper. It would help to clear his mind and he used to do that when he was little and had the odd dream of what he now knew to be his life with his parents.

Snape looked at Harry for a long moment, assessing. Harry couldn't read anything from the man's facial expression. He may as well be looking at a brick wall. Again, there was some flicker in Snape's eyes before he nodded.

"Very well," Snape said and moved to retrieve Harry's sketchbook and pencil from his table. Harry reached out to take it until Snape pulled it out of reach. Harry was about to protest but Snape cut him off before he could say anything. "Understand this, Mr. Potter," he said, looking directly at Harry and silencing his protests by raising his hand to forestall any arguments. "This goes against my better judgement. However, I am willing to compromise on this matter. If you can keep yourself from drawing until I have assessed your condition after lunch and I believe it will not cause undue stress, you may draw to your heart's content." He looked at Harry as he said this who nodded his understanding. "However," Harry felt he should have expected a 'but' to Snape's condition "If I believe that your pastime will be counterproductive to your health, you will not draw in your sketchbook until such a time that it is no longer an issue. Is that amendable?" Snape finished softly.

Harry looked at Snape in shock. Granted, they were getting along better but he still didn't expect a compromise like this from him. Harry thought the offer over. There was really no reason he could think of to refute it. Snape was being quite reasonable and allowing Harry his sketchbook as long as he didn't stress himself. And he hadn't said that he would confiscate his sketchbook if he didn't meet Snape's expectations; just that Harry couldn't draw until his health wasn't an issue. He nodded his agreement from his position in bed. Snape placed the sketchbook and pencil in Harry's hand who gave a small tentative smile in gratitude.

Snape simply nodded his head. "Anything else you wish to bring to my attention?" he asked dryly. Harry shook his head. "Very well. Stay in bed Potter while I go and get you your potion and some food." And he left before Harry could say another word.

He stared at the door Snape left through for a long moment before he blinked. Despite his resolve to try to understand and respect Snape, Harry still sometimes couldn't believe that his efforts, whatever they were, weren't in vain since it seemed Snape at some level reciprocated. It was nearing the end of summer and soon Harry would have to go back to Hogwarts. In that time, he had seen a very different side of Snape. There were no sneers, no disparaging looks except for the first day or so. His perception of the potions master had undergone a strong metamorphosis. Before, he saw a snarky, unfair greasy git. Now he still snarky, still a git (he hadn't forgotten the Tonks incident) but he was also someone who had a sarcastic, dry humor. He was strict but from what he had seen it was because of wanting the best results in whatever he set out to do and an expert in his field and highly knowledgeable. Oddly enough, the small talks they had during their stay here the most were...nice. Snape also had a few surprises with him.

Like the fact he was a fan of the Beatles, liked doing the crosswords in the newspapers and mutter some choice words he didn't think he would ever hear from his professor when he was reading the politics section and that his favourite color aside from black was dark blue.

Harry, in his own musings, could admit to himself after everything he had seen, even now with everything that things had changed. The small respect that he had for Snape since the end of fourth year had grown a great deal. And with the onslaught of his migraine attack, Harry was grateful and touched by Snape's actions deep down. His relatives never cared one way or another about him no matter what happened unless he somehow made them look bad. Snape however, didn't have to take care of him like this and he was touched deep inside that he would and that he tried to make Harry feel comfortable when he didn't have too. It was a profound difference in comparison to the Durlseys. There if he was sick, he was to be out of sight so he couldn't contaminate the rest of the family as his aunt once said. Dudley however, if he got sick was to stay in bed the whole time and got to watch plenty of shows on the telly while Aunt Petunia served him soup and chocolate ice-cream in bed and Uncle Vernon set up his game console so Dudley could play a few of his dozen games.

Being told to stay in bed and rest from Snape of all people, when he was sick felt...nice. He was unused to it, but there was no denying the small glow of warmth he felt that someone was concerned about his health in this manner. Even if it was from Snape of all people. Would his parents have behaved similarly like his aunt and uncle if he was sick if they were alive? Or would they follow more of Snape's style of Harry staying in bed and not exerting himself? At the thought of his parents, he remembered their faces from the graveyard and he felt a deep, painful longing for having someone to care for him the way they would if they had lived.

So lost in his musings, that Harry wasn't even aware that he wasn't alone anymore.

OoOoOoOoO

Severus made his way down to the kitchens. There was some beef stew and some lentil soup leftover from before along with some bread and chicken. He began to heat the food up, though his mind was occupied with what he had seen and heard from Potter.

After Minerva had left earlier that morning, Severus had spent the rest of the time staying with Potter to ensure his condition didn't get worse. While his charge slept, he had mostly finished his marking and preparing his syllabus for the coming year for his classes. Afterwards, he simply spent his time reading the newspaper, rag that it was; it never hurt to know what one was saying given the current situation. He had been doing the daily crossword when he saw a movement in his peripheral vision.

Potter started twitching in his sleep. He had been about to go back to his crossword when he didn't see any other movement when Potter began gasping.

Severus moved swiftly to his side, to check for signs of distress when Potter began trashing his head side to side. He was gasping and moaning as if he was running from something and in pain. Severus had never seen signs of such a distressing nightmare from Potter, let alone one as vivid as this one seemed to be and was shocked. Potter was twitching and then he began whimpering and curling up in his sleep. The pitiful whimpers tightened something in his chest as he heard them, though he didn't want to identify what at the moment. First thing was to deal with Potter. Everything else could wait.

"Potter." He called softly, trying to not startle the boy awake too quickly as that would leave him disorientated. It didn't help, his whimpers only increased in volume.

"Potter, you need to wake up." He slightly shook the child to bring him to some sense of awareness while he at the same time began rubbing small circles on his back in an attempt to calm him down. It seemed to work as his whimpers decreased and he didn't seem to be moving as much as before. Potter subconsciously seemed to lean into the touch at his back as well, drawing more comfort from it. He continued rubbing small circles on the child and called out to him more firmly one more time and shook him.

That seemed to do the trick as Potter woke in the next instant as if he ran a marathon. He seemed confused to his whereabouts so Severus quickly handed him his glasses so he could get his bearings straight and moved back to his seat in the armchair. He didn't think Potter was even aware that Severus' hand had been rubbing circles to calm him.

Potter himself seemed confused when he questioned him about his dream. He did seem to be thinking it over and finally gave him an answer. It wasn't a nightmare as far as Potter was concerned. His answer however gave him cause for more concern. Potter tried switching the topic and for a moment it was interesting to see his disbelieving look when he told him the time. He didn't however appreciate the boy's gall to wanting to get out of bed so soon. He still suffered from the migraine; he could still see the signs of it yet the boy wanted to move about when he needed to rest more before anything else. He managed to get his way but not before Potter made a request for his sketchbook.

He had been sorely tempted to give a scathing comment when he looked more closely at the boy. There was something almost vulnerable and pleading in the boy's expression though he tried to hide it and his pain that was evident in his eyes. He remembered Potter's painting for Bubblehead and though he hadn't seen anything else that boy had done, he did remember his serene and peaceful expression when he was drawing. As if he could forget the outside world.

Could Potter's hobby be more than a mere way of passing time? A coping mechanism, perhaps? Was it also like therapy for him? A way for him to express himself and unburden himself, like one would in a journal? Or was it that Potter wanted to record what he could remember of his dream, like a dream journal? If that was the case, it would be beneficial for Potter to have that outlet. It was for that reason, that he allowed Potter to have his sketchbook close at hand. However, he still was concerned about Potter stressing himself which was why he brought forth his proposition. Once Potter was given his potion and some of his symptoms were alleviated, then he could determine if Potter would be able to stay awake for sometime without causing himself more harm. If he could, then fine, it would be good for the boy to do something productive. If not, Potter would sleep until his migraine disappeared. The smile that boy gave him when he handed him his sketchbook was a surprise. Though if he were to be honest to himself, the gesture of gratitude was not unwelcome and had not gone unnoticed.

He came to as he was getting some plates by a flash of fire. He whipped his wand in the direction of the flash but saw nothing except a stack of parchment where Fawkes had arrived momentarily to deliver his parcel before he left in the same instant he came. 'Meddlesome, irritating feather duster.' Snape groused internally before he retrieved the stack of parchment from where the table they were placed and pocketed them for the time being and turned back to what he was doing. He'd read the missives later after he ensured Potter was taken care of. The food was ready now and Severus placed the nourishment on a tray. He paused for a moment before he prepared another tray for himself. He hadn't had his own lunch either so he may as well have it now at the same time as Potter. He flicked his wand and levitated both trays and navigated them up the stairs to Potter's room.

He was about to enter Potter's room when he paused. Potter wasn't aware of his presence and it seemed as he was lost in thought. The potions master observed him for a moment unnoticed. There were many emotions crossing the boy's face. He could make out a look that he could only think of as grateful. Then there was astonishment along with other emotions such as, if he was reading him right, respect before the child's expressions became melancholy. The change in his thought pattern was evident and rather startling. What garnered Severus attention however was the look on the boy's face, a look he could only describe as deep longing or pain. It was...tormented. The only way he could describe it. Potter eyes had taken on the same look he had seen briefly before when he first came to Grimmauld Place.

'What are you thinking about, Potter, that is causing you so much pain?' Snape wondered, the small seed of concern for his charge growing. It brought back his conversation with Minerva that morning as well. He would have to speak to her. Something was troubling the boy and he had a feeling there was more to it than last year's events. He got a hold of himself. Act normally. Get him to eat than figure out how to get him to talk.

"Daydreaming Potter?" he enquired in a wry tone.

Potter started a little. He'd been unaware that he was being observed for the past five minutes, but Severus had no intention of telling him that. Not at the moment at least.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't see you there, sir." Harry offered while trying to hide how much the Professor startled him. Severus said nothing to his explanation except raising a slight eyebrow. He helped Harry sit up, another thing that confused Harry, before he placed his lunch tray in front of him. Once Harry was situated, Severus took his seat in his armchair and began to eat his own lunch.

Harry looked at his selection before he decided to start with the beef stew with some bread. After the first day, Snape had taken over most cooking duties, though Harry did help with the little things like setting the table. Snape was a surprisingly good cook.

They passed the time in the odd comfortable silence they had established since they began living together. Harry was halfway through his stew when the silence was broken.

"What subject matter do you focus on?" Snape suddenly asked casually out of the blue.

Harry turned to Snape, not expecting the question. Snape wasn't looking at him. He looked bored as he ate his lentil soup though he was looking relaxed as he sat in his chair.

"Subject matter, sir?" Harry looked curiously at him.

Snape raised a slight eyebrow as he looked at Harry. "For your extra-curricular activity."

"Oh." Harry said looking slightly flushed at not understanding the first time. "Well, it varies, really."

"On what?" Snape asked as he speared his chicken. He indicated for Harry to continue eating when he saw he stopped when they started their conversation.

Harry picked up his spoon again and stirred his stew. Their previous meal time conversations normally were centred on what they were going to do for the day or something else mundane. The few personal titbits that Harry learned about his professor were through observations. The rest from occasionally picking something out that was mentioned in talk. Or from coming across the professor unexpectedly. Like how Harry was crossing the Professor's room heading down to the library to find a reference book when he heard a Beatles song coming from Snape's room. He recognized the tune from something Aunt Petunia used to play from time to time when he was little. He remembered being shocked at hearing something so...muggle-like from Snape; he was strongly tempted to ask Snape about it but thought that might be suicidal on his part. He didn't get long to contemplate it as at lunch that day Snape threatened, albeit calmly, for Snape almost nicely to never mention he liked listening to the Beatles while he was marking fifth year homework assignments. Harry remembered later giggling at the image of Snape tapping his foot and dancing to a Beatles tune when no one was looking in the sanctuary of his own room.

He looked at Snape out of the corner of his eye. He seemed genuinely curious about what Harry drew. And the other times when they talked or something happened such as when Snape made fun of him when Tonks was over, there was an amused glint in his eye but he never outright mentioned it. Just kept it to himself and Harry could later see the amusement though he kept that to himself.

"Well," Harry began slowly, gathering his thoughts. Snape had been quite decent here. And whatever they talked about, he did keep it to himself. So Harry thought, why not?

He helped himself with a spoonful of stew before he began talking again. "I don't usually have a particular subject as a focus per say. I just pick a random topic and start on that."

"And what topics have you explored, Mr. Potter?" Snape enquired curiously though he made no outward change.

"Well," Harry started. "I'm done mostly animals at the moment. You know, starting small like with rabbits or birds."

"Or cheetah cubs?" Snape said with a deadpanned expression though there was a small twitch of his lips.

Harry coloured but gave a small hint of a smile at that. They spent the rest of the meal with Harry talking about the types of techniques he'd used so far and what he would like to try next. Snape surprisingly gave some suggestions that Harry thoughts might be interesting to do.

Lunch polished off, Snape flicked his wand and banished the dishes to the kitchen.

"How are you feeling now Potter?" Snape asked once the dishes had vanished.

Harry pondered, silently assessing. He felt a little tired and his head still throbbed. Despite eating just now, he felt slightly dizzy and nauseous. It wasn't as bad as before but it still was a problem. He had a feeling he wasn't going to be able to draw like he wanted to. He wondered if he should try to pass it off that he's better and didn't need any more rest.

Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face because Snape suddenly wore a foreboding expression.

"Do not attempt to lie to me, Potter. I will not be pleased." Snape said silkily.

"Heads pounding a bit." Harry said quietly after slumping his shoulders. He was suddenly too tired to argue with Snape.

"Any pain?" Snape said as he retrieved Harry's potion from his robes and set it on the table while he looked Harry over.

"Umm...it's not as bad as before." Not entirely certain how to answer. He didn't think it was chronic though, as he wasn't in blinding pain.

"Are there any flashes or blind spots?" Harry shook his head in the negative. "Nausea? Dizziness?"

"A little." Snape handed Harry his potion after running his own diagnostic confirming the symptoms. Harry drank it down, grimacing a little. He was a bit more aware than the first time he took it so he hadn't noticed the taste then.

"Sleep, Potter." Snape intoned. Harry looked at him blearily, his eyes already drooping. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Snape looked at Harry for a moment before he moved his sketchbook to the boy's desk but still within his reach. He turned back to his charge before he set a monitoring charm on him and quietly made his way out the door. He had some work to do.

OoOoOoOoO

Two days later, Harry was looking at himself in a mirror preparing to leave for Diagon Alley. He wondered if he could hex Snape to hell without getting killed in the process. Snape, with McGonagall had informed him yesterday when his migraine finally abated that they were going to Diagon Alley to get Harry's school supplies. There was just one catch. They were going incognito and Snape was going to be with him the whole time. Snape had put his disguise on earlier using a combination of illusion charms and what he said was 'human transfiguration'. Currently, Harry was sporting a dark brown hair styled with a slight wave, a few freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks. His eyes had been charmed to be temporarily blue. His scar, which most of the Wizarding world recognized him by was hidden with; Harry grimaced at the thought, muggle make-up. He didn't even want to know why Snape had that with him.

He looked like somewhere between a hybrid of an ordinary boy and a dark mini-Lockhart, which was what really irked him at the moment along with the make-up. In his opinion, at the very least. Snape however, had vindictive pleasure doing this to him and told him to quit being so melodramatic. The only good thing about this trip was that the twins would be joining them at Diagon Alley so Harry would be able to have some fun.

"Potter, get down here already." Snape called impatiently.

Harry gritted his teeth in irritation. This was going to be a really trying day. It didn't help that Harry was already in a bad mood. Two days ago, he spent the day the same as the first night he had his migraine though a bit more active. He had managed to sketch some of the sequences he remembered from his dreams hoping to make sense of it. All he really remembered though was the man who Harry was able to vaguely recall and the corridor. He wondered what the whole thing had been about but could make no sense of it no matter what he tried. It didn't help that the talk with McGonagall and Snape from yesterday was still on his mind.

Harry woke up slowly to the world around him. His migraine was barely there anymore for which he was thankful. Coming to, Harry could dimly hear voices that seemed to be coming from somewhere nearby but his mind was still in too much of a haze to make much out except that there were two voices outside his door perhaps.

"...should be fine...available...later..."

"...discuss..."

"...there...concerns...uneasy..."

"...may be more...pain..."

"...address...skills...boy..."

Harry felt a pickle of curiosity through his sleep ridden mind. What was he hearing? Who were they talking about? What boy? He slowly started to sit up letting out a small groan. Maybe he could sleep longer. He still felt tired. The voices stopped abruptly and Harry heard the door to his room open. He looked up and could make out the black blur to be Snape who handed Harry his glasses while he was trying to make out the other blur next to Snape. His vision came into focus and he saw the concerned features of his Head of House.

"Professor?" Harry said, his voice slightly slurred from sleep.

"Good morning Mr. Potter. How do you feel?" The Scottish woman asked sitting at the edge of Harry's bed.

"Better, Professor." He said clearing his throat.

"No nausea or dizziness?" The question came from Snape this time.

Harry turned to face Snape. Despite learning a few new things about him, it was still a little difficult to comprehend that this was the same man who hated him. The concern from him was something he was unused to. If it could be called concern, since he didn't show anything and just looked bored.

"No."

"The light doesn't hurt?" McGonagall asked.

Harry noticed for the first time since he woke up, that his curtains were slightly drawn. Not much but enough for some light to brighten the room considerably.

Harry shook his head. McGonagall showed relief while Snape remained unreadable as ever.

"You joined us just in time Mr. Potter. It`s lunchtime."

Harry widened his eyes slight at that. He never slept in this late.

"Lunch will be served in fifteen minutes Potter. Wash up and join us downstairs." Snape said and with that, strode out of the room.

"Freshen up and come join us downstairs, Mr. Potter. I believe there's fish on the menu today." McGonagall said as she stood up as well but peered over her square spectacles at Harry, giving him a small smile before she too left the room.

Harry stared after her momentarily dazed before he got up and started moving. He washed and dressed in ten minutes and made his way downstairs. He entered the kitchen to find Snape and McGonagall already seated waiting for him. He willed himself not to squirm when their attention suddenly shifted to him from their conversation and took his seat.

It was very odd, he decided, having lunch with your teachers. Lunch was decidedly an awkward affair for Harry at least. While he'd gotten use to eating with Snape, he felt extremely out of sorts with McGonagall present. Therefore, he didn't speak much even though there was enough conversation between the two professors that his input wasn't needed even though he had no idea what they were speaking off. Something regarding 'budgets' and meetings with the Board of Governors. McGonagall did try to include him as surprisingly did Snape.

After the dishes were cleared, McGonagall conjured a tea service with a flick of her wand.

"Tea, Potter?" McGonagall asked flicking her wand again summoning pastries from the pantry and a few cream scones.

"Yes Professor." Harry accepted as she passed him his cup. He wrapped his hands around the warm ceramic, ideally watching as his Head of House served Snape some tea as well.

"Do have some of the pastries, Mr. Potter. There're quite good." McGonagall said as she served herself.

Harry helped himself to some. Pastries were one of his favourite sweet dishes next to treacle tart.

"Do have some yourself as well, Severus." McGonagall said directing a pointed look at the Potions Professor.

Snape threw a cool look at McGonagall before helping himself to some fruit instead. He threw another look at her, as if daring her to say something.

McGonagall simply looked back unflinchingly, though if he looked closely enough, Harry could have sworn he saw her lips twitching, as if she was trying hard not to smile.

Harry wasn't sure what to think. He'd never really seen this side of either of his professors before. At school, the only time he saw them together was at the head table in the Great Hall or if they were maybe walking down the corridors heading for the staff room. Otherwise, they always seemed to keep to their own domain. McGonagall in the towers while Snape in the dungeons. It was...different, he decided for the lack of a better word, seeing them like this. He was actually beginning to wonder if he had stepped into an alternate reality like in so many fantasy books.

"Do you need your eyes examined Potter? Or are you waiting for an epiphany to reveal itself to you, that you staring at me like a primate?" Snape said blandly, looking Harry in the eye who was startled out of his musings.

Harry realized that he was so engrossed in his ponderings that he had been staring at Snape since McGonagall offered him the pastry. He bristled at the insult and narrowed his eyes at Snape automatically in response to the condescending tone. He was very tempted to say something but remembered last minute, McGonagall was present.

He was saved the trouble as McGonagall spoke before him. "That's quite enough. No sparring. Severus, do remember what we discussed." The Transfiguration Professor said giving him a look that Harry couldn't make out. Snape, amazingly simply nodded after a minute. Harry had no idea what that was about. He absently thought to himself to figure it out later as McGonagall now turned to him.

"Though, Professor Snape does raise a good point, however unorthodoxly Mr. Potter." McGonagall said, turning to him. "When was the last time you had your eyes examined?" She looked at him closely, as if suddenly noticing something. "If memory serves me well, you are wearing the same pair you had on when you first arrived to Hogwarts as a first-year."

Harry was taken aback at the sudden change in conversation. Truth was that he was wearing the same pair of glasses he had since first year. When he first got them with Aunt Petunia, they were already a little big for him but it still worked well enough for him that he could see without squinting. When he came to Hogwarts, he was so used to his glasses by then that, he hardly ever remembered their poor condition.

While he was well aware that it was necessary for him to have regular eye exams, he could hardly bring the subject up to the Dursleys. They barely tolerated him and even that was a generous view of their attitude and behaviour in his opinion. Vernon and Petunia had only begrudgingly paid for the glasses when he first needed them. Getting them to take him to an eye exam and attaining another pair was out of the question.

"My eyes are fine, Professor." Harry said after a moment, seeing that both teachers were looking expectedly at him.

Harry saw both Professors narrow their eyes slightly at him. It was slightly eerie how similar their actions were. Harry saw that, McGonagall at least was not satisfied with his answer. Snape kept giving him an odd look he couldn't make out otherwise; he had no other sign to his thoughts.

"That does not answer my question, Mr. Potter." McGonagall said looking at him over her own square spectacles. "When did you last have an eye exam?"

"I had one done a while ago Professor." Harry said, as nonchalantly as possible. It wasn't technically a lie. He did have an eye exam done a while ago. If you consider having an eye exam back in primary school a while ago. Harry simply neglected to mention he hadn't had one since because the Dursleys would rather splurge on themselves than let him have an eye exam.

"And there has been no change in your prescription?" McGonagall asked with the same pointed look. "No blurring of vision? No headaches? You have no difficulty reading material or doing tasks? Because you seem to be squinting a great deal Mr. Potter. And that to me Mr. Potter is one of the many signs of requiring new spectacles." She said giving him a stern look, silently demanding an explanation. Harry forced himself not to squirm in his chair at the look while trying to hide the slowly growing ball of dread that was making itself known in his stomach.

He was unused to anyone really asking him about things like this. In fact, he couldn't really remember when anyone had asked him about the small things like this.

"Indeed, you do seem to be doing that a great deal." Snape said quietly, almost as if he was musing to himself. Harry saw he was looking at him with the same unreadable look as before but his onyx eyes were as sharp as blades as even he seemed to now be waiting for an answer from Harry.

'Great, now Snape is on my case? Is the apocalypse coming?' Harry growled internally. At that moment, he blinked rapidly to clear his vision. Now that he thought about it, he had been having some trouble lately. He had been peering at his sketchbook closely a lot when he woke up the first day after his migraine. Even after. And some time before that. But surely, that didn't mean he needed new glasses, did it? He had been having a few headaches on and off even when he was at Privet Drive, but that was because of the heat. Wasn't it? Whatever, he was fine. But maybe he should look into seeing if he could get an eye exam done discreetly. He couldn't deny he more than likely needed new glasses though he really didn't want to have the Dursleys, Dudley especially wreck it like he did with his current glasses. But his resources were limited at the moment, so he'll have to make the most of what was available to him.

He felt very reluctant bringing this subject up with his Professors though. McGonagall wanted to help, he could see that but he still was hesitant in asking for help. Previous experience from the Dursleys taught him to not ask for anything. Snape, though he had no clue about him. He definitely wasn't all Harry thought him to be and he couldn't deny he had seen another side to the stoic Professor which before he would have said didn't exist. But Snape was bloody difficult to read. Harry found it impossible to tell what the man was thinking and even now, the fact he was acting as cool as a cucumber while at the same time producing a calm demeanour that also silently radiated authority and make it clear that he wanted answers as well like McGonagall was if possible, more unnerving.

"I did have an eye exam done." Harry said calmly as possible, praying that the Professors couldn't hear the loud pounding that Harry was pretty sure was his heart. "I just haven't had a chance to go about ordering the new prescription. I'm going to do that soon." He said, hoping to get them to drop the subject.

"Why did you not inform me Potter?" Snape asked in a calm voice that underneath Harry was certain he heard a hint of steel in the silky tone.

"Huh?" Harry said flabbergasted. Inform Snape?

"Potter," Snape began, pinning him with an irascible look. "Astounding as this may be for you, I am your Guardian for the duration of our stay in this hovel." Snape sneered giving an acid glare at the surroundings of the Black kitchen before turning back to glare at Harry. "Had you informed me Potter, I would have ensured you were able to settle the matter. Without leaving it to the last minute." Snape glared as he finished.

Harry looked at Snape blearily while internally kicking himself. 'Damn it.' He thought mentally smacking himself. He tried to diffuse and dismiss the situation and instead it backfired on him.

"Well?" Snape snapped at him bringing Harry out of his internal scolding.

"Well what?" Harry snapped back before he could think.

"Manners, Mr. Potter. There is no need to lose your temper. And you as well Severus." McGonagall scolded to both occupants turning a stern look at Harry and then directing the same to the Potions Professor.

"Why didn't you see fit to inform me you needed new glasses Potter?" Snape asked, barely controlling the vitriol he felt at the dunderheaded brat for neglecting to mention something of that importance.

Harry swallowed before scowling at Snape to hide his unease at the turn of the situation.

"It slipped my mind." It was the best excuse Harry could come up with. Slipped his mind? Of course, it slipped his mind. He'd be hard pressed to bring it up if it didn't even occur to him himself that he needed an eye exam, let alone new glasses. Unfortunately, Harry had a feeling he made things worse for himself.

He wasn't disappointed.

"Slipped your mind?" Snape said in a frighteningly calm voice. His black eyes staring piercingly at Harry. The look in Snape's eyes told Harry that he was in for it. He had a strong hunch that Snape knew he was lying.

"Well, we'll just have to ensure it is properly sorted out tomorrow, now won't we?" Snape said in a deliberately light tone.

"Huh?" Harry said. What's happening tomorrow?

"Eloquent, aren't you Potter?" Snape said sardonically.

"Severus," McGonagall said in a warning tone. Harry had honestly forgotten that she was still there. Receiving only a lifting of a brow from the Potions master, she turned to Harry answering his unspoken question. "Professor Snape and I were finalizing arrangements earlier for your outing to Diagon Alley tomorrow."

Harry stared for a minute in disbelief before he broke out in a wide smile. He could go out. Finally! "I can go to Diagon Alley?" he asked excitedly.

McGonagall gave a small, almost unnoticeable smile at Harry. "Yes, Mr Potter. You will be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow. However, you will be accompanied by Professor Snape." Harry felt his excitement dim a little. Snape was going with him to Diagon Alley? Why couldn't he just go by himself?

"While I am certain you would prefer to go by yourself or your friends Mr Potter," McGonagall started to say, as if she knew what he was thinking, "It would be safer if you were in a more discrete group where you would not stand out."

Harry still must have a look of confusion of his face because McGonagall continued.

"It is well known among many people that you are great friends with Mr Weasley and Miss Granger. Especially among You-Know-Who's followers. They will expect you to be with them wherever you go. And vice versa. The Headmaster thought it would be safer if you went incognito and with an adult guard. It will prevent you from being an open target."

"But if Ron and Hermione or the others go to Diagon Alley, won't they then be a target if Voldemort-" both Professors flinched at the name "-decides to go after them?" Harry asked, seeing a flaw in this plan.

"Molly and Arthur already got everything for them and their children earlier when they went with a guard. Discreetly, of course. Molly was going to get your supplies as well but the Headmaster said to leave it as you would be getting your own later with a guard. Is the arrangement agreeable to you Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded reluctantly. He would have liked to go with Ron and Hermione but as that wasn't likely now, he'd take what he could get. Even if it meant going to Diagon Alley with Snape. He grimaced internally at the thought.

"I understand you would have liked to go with your friends. However, you may be pleased to know that the Weasley twins have decided to join you and Professor Snape."

Harry's eyes widened at that. "Fred and George are coming?" he asked excitedly.

"Unfortunately," Snape said with an irritated look letting Harry know that he wasn't pleased with this but apparently had no choice.

"Yes," McGonagall continued giving a pointed look in Snape's direction. "They said, well, in their words that it would be 'interesting' and they wished to 'have a day out'. As they are of age, Professor Dumbledore didn't see anything wrong with it."

'Meddlesome old fool would find it delightful.' Snape groused internally, miffed at having to guard Potter and the devils split in two.

Snape gave a piercing look to McGonagall. While this was apparently necessary to tell Potter, he allowed her indulgence. But she had stalled enough and he let her know that.

Minerva no doubt knew what he meant because she cleared her throat and turned back to Potter who caught the look Snape gave her. Had Potter always been this observant? He had no recollection of Potter having such skill in previous years. Certainly, not to this extent.

Snape found himself more intrigued by this new Potter and some of his old perceptions chip further away.

"There is another reason I called here today Mr Potter." Minerva began delicately. Which wasn't surprising, as it was a topic that could never be addressed easily.

Harry looked questioningly at his Head of House.

Professor McGonagall clasped her hands together, resting them on top of the table, looking over her spectacles at him.

"Quite frankly Mr Potter, one of my main reasons for coming here today was to ask you if there was anything that I could do for you."

Harry just looked more confused. He wasn't sure what McGonagall meant. Seeing that, she continued.

"You underwent a tragic ordeal recently Mr. Potter." she said. "Such events can have a great impact on a person and leaves its mark and it helps to talk about it."

Harry saw with sudden clarity where this was going and froze. This was unexpected on his part to say the least. He did not want to talk about this, especially in front of Snape. They may be getting along 'A miracle in itself; must be God's work somewhere' he thought, he didn't want Snape to see him vulnerable. Something bound to happen especially if he had to talk about Cedric.

'He's already seen you vulnerable,' his conscience decided to make itself known.

'He has not,' Harry growled back internally.

'No? What with you being sick and having that migraine? You don't think that was you in a vulnerable state? He was decent about it, if you ask me. More than decent.' His conscience shot back.

McGonagall must have seen some of his thoughts before he began his internal battle because she started speaking again before he could come up with an answer to himself.

"I am not forcing you to do or say anything at this moment Mr Potter," McGonagall said. "But I strongly encourage you to speak about the Tournament with someone."

"What's there to talk about? I'm fine." Harry shot out before he could clamp his mouth shut.

"You will forgive me if I don't believe that," McGonagall said looking at him piercingly. "You saw Cedric Diggory die before your very eyes, Mr Potter. Given the tragedy of his death and then the ridiculous rubbish from the Prophet that-"

"I'm not crazy!" Harry cut his Professor off rather forcefully before she could finish her sentence. He could feel his temper starting to rise at that.

"Potter," Snape snapped out startling Harry. He forgot Snape was still there. "Control yourself and sit down." His eyes flashing flinty.

Harry's temper had risen so quickly that he was unaware he had risen from his seat and that it had fallen over. Harry thought about mouthing off but a hard look from Snape stilled his tongue and he begrudgingly sat down.

McGonagall also gave him a stern look but there was something in her eyes that Harry was still too angry to decipher or pay any attention to at the moment. He turned his attention to the table top, refusing to meet McGonagall's eyes.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall began again. Harry still refused to raise his eyes.

"Eyes up, Potter, and show your Professor some respect." Snape snapped out, his black eyes glinting fiercely. Harry's head snapped up and he opened his mouth to retort when Snape beat him to it.

"Utter whatever vile thought you have in your head Potter and I will not hesitate to put you in detention and take points on the first day when we return to Hogwarts and find something loathsome for you to do here." Snape said with frost. Seeing that Harry closed his mouth, Snape continued. "Now, however impossible it may be to you, try to control that rash impulsiveness of yours and let Professor McGonagall finish speaking before you interrupt her with your objections. Now, apologize." He said.

Harry slowly turned to Professor McGonagall feeling ashamed of his temper and rudeness, now that he had calmed down. And to think, Snape of all people chastised him for his behaviour. That was almost...parental.

Harry froze at that thought. Snape and parental in the same sentence, on top of his conscience pointing out Snape taking care of him when he was sick in bed, this was too much. He shook his head clearing it of such odd thoughts.

"Sorry, Professor." Harry apologized, looking Professor McGonagall in the eye to ensure her of his sincerity.

McGonagall was silent for what seemed like an eternity. "Apology accepted, Mr Potter." She said finally though the stern look on her face and the disappointment in her eyes made Harry feel worse than before. "However, if you do show such disrespect and poor behaviour again, not only will I allow Professor Snape to follow through with his punishment but you will be facing a detention with me as well, along with a probation from the Quidditch team until after the first match, am I understood?"

"Yes, Professor." Harry said, wishing he could be swallowed into the centre of the earth. He couldn't even muster the energy to be outraged at the potential ban as he had already pushed both his Professors in a short amount of time.

"May I continue now?" McGonagall asked coolly. Harry simply nodded.

"I know that you are not crazy Mr Potter." McGonagall continued from her previous train of thought. This made Harry feel even worse hearing his Professor saying she didn't think he was crazy and he had accused her of such. "No one in this room believes for an instant that you are in any way going around the bend."

Harry gave her an incredulous look, finding that difficult to believe given present company, excluding McGonagall. He couldn't help but turn to see Snape. Who was watching him and didn't even twitch and raised a brow at him as if to say "Yes, you have something to say?" If Snape thought McGonagall was being ludicrous, he gave no sign of it. He simply helped himself to more refreshments.

"Yes, even Professor Snape, Mr Potter." McGonagall said seeing the direction of his gaze. "He would not have defended you to the Minister if he didn't believe you."

Harry started at that. Snape defended him to the Minister? When? Then he remembered the meeting in the Hospital Wing when McGonagall and Snape had come into the wing after Barty Crouch Jr. had been kissed and the Minister refused to believe Voldemort had returned. Snape had even showed Fudge his Dark Mark as proof of his return and Fudge turned a blind eye to it.

He had forgotten that Snape had done that. And that McGonagall had been present as well. Harry felt his respect rise for the man even more than before. Not that he would admit it.

"No matter the fact you are now fifteen years of age Mr Potter, you are still a child. And no child should ever have to go through what you have." McGonagall said, breaking Harry out of his train of thought. "I thought it would be helpful to you if you knew you could speak about last year to us. Be it myself or even Professor Snape. Or any other adult you wish for that matter. Even Sirius Black."

Harry sat in shock at all that was said. He wasn't certain he could take any more shocks today. He hadn't recovered from the previous shock of Snape being, well nice in taking care of him and even starting conversations. Then with all his thoughts fluctuating with everything that he learned today and heard and reflected, this was getting too much for Harry.

He mulled over what McGonagall said. He couldn't find it in himself to wonder at Snape listening to him about the Tournament and Cedric. But with everything that's happened since the end of last year and what he learned about Snape since living under the same roof as him, Harry wasn't ready to simply think it impossible anymore. There were many sides to Snape as he was learning, this entire conversation being an example that there were a lot of sides to him. He decided to put all thoughts about Snape to the back of his mind. But the idea of talking to Snape about last year, it strangely didn't seem absurd. Not like it would have before.

As for talking to Sirius, Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted to do that. Throughout the majority of his third year, he thought Sirius was the murderer of thirteen people and the betrayer of his parents. It was only towards the end of the year he learned the truth about Pettigrew and what really happened that night. Looking back, he was alarmed at the how quickly he accepted Sirius' offer to live with him. While seeing Pettigrew alive did help to believe Sirius' innocence and he helped him escape from the Ministry, he still spent the majority of the year believing him to be a cold-blooded killer and a supporter of Voldemort.

In a way, Harry was somewhat glad things turned out the way they did as it took a good part of the summer for him to fully accept and get used to the truth. The gift for Ron in the form of his owl Pig helped. Though Sirius was able to send two letters following Harry's third year, it was mostly telling Harry he was alright and not to worry and that Harry could call on him if he needed to.

That did mean a lot to Harry and he was grateful for it. But even then when Harry needed advice, Sirius had been a last resort after a process of elimination. When he did contact Sirius, it had always been Voldemort related. Even in fourth year with the Triwizard Tournament, Harry was still reluctant to turn to Sirius as he was still on the run and he was fearful on endangering him through any means. And even when Sirius was hiding in the mountains nearby Hogsmeade, their letters were still brief and contact minimal.

He was grateful for Sirius being there for him when he could but the truth of the matter was; he hadn't really had a chance to really get to know Sirius on a more personal level. And he wasn't certain that with their past interactions, however limited, he was comfortable talking to Sirius about last year. It didn't help that with this summer, with the brief, unhelpful letters it didn't make him want to talk to Sirius about his thoughts and feelings regarding everything. His first night came back to mind as well with Sirius' behaviour at the forefront of his mind. While there was plenty of blame to go around, that night didn't help with making Harry want to confide into Sirius, given how quickly his temper flared.

McGonagall seeing Harry deep in thought spoke softly. "You do not have to make a decision right this instant Mr Potter."

Harry looked at both his Professors. McGonagall had a compassionate look on her whereas Snape, looking closely, seemed to be watching him intently.

"Can I think about it?" Harry asked softly.

McGonagall nodded and with a final look at both Professors, Harry got up and left. He had a lot to think about.

He didn't figure anything out that night. Though Snape dropped by his room to give him letters that had arrived for him sometime before, he didn't see Snape the rest of the night. The letters were from Ron and Hermione and the twins. He was disappointed that there was nothing from Sirius but didn't get to dwell on it too long once he started reading the rest of his letters. Ron was going on about how he tried to get his parents to come with Harry to Diagon Alley but they weren't budging. The rest of Ron's letter consisted of 'survival tactics' in surviving shopping with Snape. Harry had a good laugh at some of the suggestions. Hermione wrote expressing her concern over him and her own attempts to try to come with Harry to Diagon Alley but had no luck. She instead to compensate for her absence, wrote three pages on safety measures and spells that she researched in the off chance Harry ran into trouble. Then she included a page of advising Harry to keep calm and try to get along with Snape. Harry's eyes bugged out at the length of her missive.

The twins also included their own funny anecdotes about what was going on with them and how they were looking forward to shopping with Harry and Snape. Harry wasn't quite sure he believed them about all of that. They did mention that they had some business they would see to when they went to Diagon Alley but asked Harry not to mention it. Harry wondered at that. Fred and George had also included in a post script that they would be arriving at Grimmauld Place in the morning and leave together with Harry and Snape from there.

Harry wasn't any closer to figuring out all of his thoughts out from the conversation with both Head of Houses but at the moment, it was the furthest thing from his mind.

"Potter!" Snape snapped out from below.

Harry gritted his teeth and slammed the bathroom door on his way.

'This is gonna be hell.' Harry thought as he made his way downstairs.