A second set of new emotions also plagued him. Previously he had dreamed of parents coming to his rescue, but instead it had been Snape. Snape was the one who had taken him in, kept his secrets, and taken care of him... healed his wounds. Snape was the one who held him tight as he cried, and told him sweet things: of how he was not worthless; how he deserved kindness and love. Harry didn't know what to think about his dream coming true in this way. Snape hated him... or at least he used to. And Harry hated Snape. That was just the way it was supposed to be, wasn't it? He wasn't so sure anymore.

Out of all of the other adults in the castle, it was Snape that had helped him. How many times had he told Dumbledore about his home situation, and the man hadn't believed him? How many times had he hinted to Professor McGonagall, and even Professor Sprout, and they hadn't looked into it any further. Even Hagrid had to know, since he had addressed the letter to the cupboard under the stairs, and eventually had to come find Harry on a rock in the middle of the sea. And yet Snape learned of the abuse and took action right away. Even when Harry had been a prat, Snape hadn't chucked him out on his arse as Harry was sure so many others would have.

Harry sighed, one arm behind his head as he lay in the darkened living room. His watch read 7:30 am, and he was sure it would be light out by now, but there were no windows in Snape's Dungeon Suite to let the light in. Hm, Harry mused. Maybe that's why he was so snarky all the time. I would be too if I couldn't see outside.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hallway, followed by the dim hall light flickering on drew Harry to tilt his head backwards further and look upside down at the groggy man in day old robes shuffling into the kitchen. He didn't seem to notice Harry. Maybe he had already forgotten about the night before.

As Harry listened to what sounded like coffee percolating in the kitchen, along with Snape banging around in cupboards looking for something to eat, Harry wasn't sure if he wanted the man to forget about the previous night or not. On the one hand, it was fairly embarrassing being so childish and pushing him away, especially getting caught, and on the other, it was nice to have someone to calm his nerves and bring him back down to reality. That was something previously reserved for himself, and sometimes Ron... and Ginny on occasion. For the most part he didn't let them into his personal feelings however, and was left feeling completely isolated for his troubles.

Harry pushed himself up off the couch, feeling very well rested for the first time in so long, and quietly made his way into the kitchen, where Snape was cursing because he'd burned the fried eggs and on top of that, they had broken when he'd tried to flip them.

"Maybe they'd be better vanished," Harry observed, wondering whether to feel anxious or awkward, but unable to summon those feelings at all.

Severus turned to eye the boy next to him who was peering into the pan. He wasn't used to having other people in his home, and up until this point this person, Harry, had not been allowed anywhere but the spare room and the bathroom. He had not forgotten about the night before however, and felt more awkward than the boy looked calm.

"And I suppose you could do better Mr. Potter?"

Harry pulled his wand from his jean pocket and vanished the eggs to a stern look from Snape, but ignored him as he set to work cracking four eggs into the pan, and mixing them up as if he were going to scramble them.

"If I wanted scrambled eggs, I would have done it myself," Snape observed, unaccustomed to feeling awkward and deciding to combat it with sarcasm.

"Why don't you just eat upstairs anyhow?" Harry asked, spotting some salt and pepper and sprinkling some into the pan.

"Sometimes I prefer to eat in solitude, away from little nuisances such as- Potter what on earth are you doing to my eggs?"

"Frying them," Harry said with a frown, wondering if he'd done something wrong.

"You have already broken and mixed them for a scramble."

Harry shook his head and used the metal spatula to cut the eggs in the pan in half and flip each half over. "No I haven't. They'll turn out fried but this way the taste is even and they won't break when I flip them over."

"Hm." Snape observed, and Harry was happy to see curiosity replace the look of disdain as the man moved to pour himself some coffee from the Muggle coffee pot that had no cord.

When Harry was done he served Snape's half of the eggs onto one plate, and used his wand to summon two slices of bread and a slice of cheese for himself, and made his eggs into a sandwich.

Standing at the kitchen counter because there was no dining table or chairs, Harry bit into his sandwich and savored the flavor. It would have been better with a spread like Mayo, but he wasn't going to complain.

"Well?" He asked, as Snape stood at the counter on the other side of the sink and ate his eggs in silence.

"Well what Potter?"

"Are they terrible?"

"They are better than the others would have been burned."

Harry gave a small smile and shook his head. It was as close to a compliment as he was going to get, and more than the Dursleys had ever said in favor of his cooking. The one exception was the time Dudley had come down the stairs, not realizing that Harry had cooked that morning, told his mother that it was the best breakfast she'd ever cooked, and watched in surprise as she grabbed Harry by the back of his shirt and threw him out into the snow, to spend Christmas outside.

"So much thought over one comment Potter?"

Harry's head snapped up, and he took a bite of his almost cold sandwich just to fill his mouth so he wouldn't have to answer.

Snape didn't ask again, and instead disappeared out of the kitchen, back down the hallway and into the bathroom, where he re-emerged fifteen minutes later showered and dressed in fresh robes, read for the day.

"You'd better get to class," he observed, and Harry nodded, suddenly not wanting to leave the quarters. Snape's suite wasn't like Gryffindor common room, where everything was patched and frayed, faded and old, just like most of Harry's possessions. And despite having no windows, Harry still felt comfortable there.

Finally picking up his book bag off the living room floor, where it had been dropped the night before, Harry headed for the front door.

"Potter."

Harry stopped and turned back.

"Did you dream last night?"

Harry shook his head, and Severus felt his suspicions were confirmed. It was probably more emotional issues than it was Voldemort trying to breach the boy's mind.

"I do not believe you need the potion any longer. You did not have it last night, and slept well. You would do well to return to Gryffindor tower this evening instead of coming here. People may be getting suspicious."

Suddenly unsettled again, Harry bit his lip, but nodded anyway, before walking out.

Harry couldn't concentrate through Charms that morning, or through Transfiguration. It must be my fault, he thought. I broke down and now he doesn't want to deal with me anymore. I knew he'd chuck me out, I just didn't think it would be for this.

He was quite sure he wouldn't be able to sleep that night without the potion, but was surprised when he slept soundly through until morning, and did the same the next night, and the next. Puzzled, Harry wondered if perhaps the potion when taken night after night would stay in his system for a while. Despite being able to sleep normally again however, he still felt unsettled about being told not to come back.

* * *

"Ugh." Harry hit the frozen grass hard as he completed his unceremonious tumble down the front steps leading out of the castle. Dazed in the crisp morning air, he looked up to see Goyle standing at the top of the steps with a big grin on his face. Well that would explain it then, Harry thought, because he didn't think he'd fallen of his own accord.

Elbow and side sore from where he landed, he stood up and ignored Goyle as he brushed himself off and continued on down to Care of Magical creatures by himself. He was late and most of the rest of the class was already down there. This was the second sleepless night in a row he'd had now, and hoped desperately that this wouldn't continue again. He'd gotten almost a week and a half of good sleep without nasty dreams chasing him through the night, and was disappointed that they had come back in full force.

Hermione gave him a reproachful look as he showed up fifteen minutes late, but he tried to ignore it as he busied himself instead with pulling out his book and homework, and flipped through to the page Hagrid was talking about.

On the way back to the castle from class, Pansy shoved into him just enough for Harry's foot to catch on a rock in the dirt and send him flying, to much laughter from Draco and the other Slytherins gathered. Pansy just gave him a smug look as she walked on, not even bothering to stop and laugh.

"Pratt," Ron shouted while Harry picked himself up for the second time that morning and glared in Pansy's direction.

"Did I do something to piss them off lately?" Harry asked, and Ron shrugged.

"Don't know, why?"

"Goyle shoved me down the stairs on the way here."

"They're just jerks," Ron said. "We'll get them back. Fred and George sent me their new line of dung bombs. I have three super skunks, guaranteed not to come off for days, and two puke patties, bad enough to make anyone throw up."

"Oh Ronald," Hermione said with a stern look. "That's not the way to deal with it."

"Show's what you know," he said. "If I just find a way to get one to their table at dinner then we'll have the entire house losing their meal all over the place."

Hermione gave him a disgusted look and then hurried up to walk with Lavender and Parvati, determined not to be involved in such a prank.

Harry had to agree with Ron though, when two seventh year Slytherins teamed up to smash Harry into a corridor wall so hard he thought for sure he'd dislocated his shoulder, followed by Theodore Nott tying his shoelaces together by wand in Charms class and sending him to the floor when he got up to fetch the book that had fallen from his desk.

By Friday, Harry was so bruised from being shoved, slammed, pushed, and pranked that he thought he'd had a trip home to Privet Drive. On top of that, he was going on five days of sleeplessness again, and was quite ready to snap at any moment.

It was very unfortunate for Harry that Professor McGonagall happened upon him at that moment Saturday evening just after Goyle had tripped him in the corridor and Harry had gone sprawling again. McGonagall didn't see the part where Harry had been provoked, only the part where he had abandoned his wand to give a stunned Goyle a piece of his own medicine. So tired and upset was Harry that when Professor McGonagall came around the corner, she found him pinning the larger Goyle down and hitting his bloody face repeatedly while he cried for Harry to stop.

"Harry James Potter! Get off of him this very instant!"

Breathless, hurting and tired, Harry just wanted to crawl into a corner someplace and go to sleep for months, but knew he was in for a long lecture and possibly a night full of detention.

Harry stood quietly, not bothering to wipe the blood off his hands as he watched McGonagall cast a spell on the other sixth year boy to stop the bleeding and then sent him on his way to the Hospital Wing, still crying. Then she rounded on Harry, who was too tired to be angry.

"I don't even care at this point what the fight was about Mr. Potter. What you did was unacceptable and apprehensible and you will be serving a week's worth of detention with Mr. Filch for this, as well as losing 100 points from Gryffindor, is that understood?"

He wanted to cry at the nights of sleep he'd lose, but only sucked in a deep breath of air to stem the flow of tears, and nodded, looking down at the ground.

"Go and find him now then and give him this." She waved her wand and the tell tale pink detention slip appeared from thin air. "You are to serve from 7 pm to midnight each night, as well as write three feet of parchment on why violence is not allowed at this school."

Harry took the pink paper, and headed off down the hall with a subdued, "Yes maam."

Down two flights of stairs and after checking five supply closets, Harry had still not found Filch, and was feeling more sluggish than ever. He didn't know what he was going to do except start skipping classes again in order to get some sleep. He couldn't go back to Snape because he obviously didn't want him in his quarters anymore, or he wouldn't have kicked him out in the first place. The unfairness of the whole situation hadn't even crossed Harry's mind until he rounded another corner and bumped into Snape himself.

"Potter, what are you- why is there blood all over your hands and shirt?" His brows were knit together in concern.

"Do you know where Mr. Filch is sir," Harry asked weakly, head bowed and throat dry as he held up the pink parchment for Snape to see. Harry felt ashamed now too, that he had sunk to the level of the Slytherins who had been tormenting him all week.

"Why do you have detention Potter?"

Harry's breath hitched then and he was determined not to look up and reveal his wet eyes. He couldn't explain that the Slytherins had been damaging his body all week and he had finally gone bezerk on one of them.

"I beat up Goyle sir. I think I broke his nose and maybe his jaw and, and there was blood everywhere. Professor McGonagall..." he swallowed hard, trying to calm his breathing and failing. "She said she didn't care why, but I lost 100 points and got 7 night detentions."

Here Harry expected Snape to run off to the Hospital Wing to see how Goyle was doing, but instead he stayed put, and handed the pink parchment back to Harry, who took it and continued to look down and to the right.

"And why pray tell did you find it necessary to throttle someone nearly twice your size?"

So unsettled was Harry at this point to be asked his side of the story, that he looked up accidentally into his Professor's dark eyes and his bottom lip started to tremble. He turned slowly and lifted up the back of his shirt where he knew the man could see the damage his body had gone through that week, and then rolled up his sleeves to show his swollen, bruised arms.

"Gregory Goyle did all of that to you?"

Harry shook his head and pulled his sleeves back down again. "All of them. All of the sixth year Slytherins and some of the seventh, all week long they've been pushing me down and shoving me around. And when he tripped me and I fell I just flipped out. I didn't even know what I was doing until Professor McGonagall was shouting at me. I, I just want to go to bed, but I have all of these detentions now." He hated feeling so riled, so on the edge of breaking down again as he had the last night he'd spent in the Dungeons, but he couldn't help it.

"You have not been sleeping. For how long?"

"All week."

Snape eyed him closely, and then asked, "Do you want to sleep tonight?" Harry looked up and met his eyes again, and nodded, bottom lip still quivering. "Then do as I say and do not contradict me. Follow me."

He lead off and Harry followed, wondering where they were going, but back up two flights of stairs he was dismayed to find that they were nearing the Hospital Wing. Snape lead him inside and made him sit on a bed near the door, about seven beds away from where Goyle lay, still crying softly, and where Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall stood bent, tending to him.

When the door opened and Snape deposited Harry onto the bed, McGonagall stood straight and said sternly, "Mr. Potter, I was very clear that you were to find Mr. Filch. Why have you come here?"

"I found him collapsed on the second floor Minerva," Severus said nonchalantly, and then with a bit of a challenge, "apparently he had been beaten and could no longer stand of his own accord. I would have been remiss in my duty if I did not escort him here, would I not?"

Minerva's eyes widened and she hurried over. "What do you mean he's been beaten?"

Harry sniffled then, unable to help the indignation he felt at not even being asked for his side of the story.

"Take off your shirt Mr. Potter."

Madam Pomfrey came over now too and gasped at the bruising, scratches, and welts that covered Harry's torso and arms.

"My word, who did this to you?"

Harry ignored her and lay down on his side, back to McGonagall as his breath hitched again and he worked to calm himself.

"Am I to assume he received detention for retaliating against Mr. Goyle?" Severus inquired, and Minerva's look of certainty for her just punishment faltered. Harry didn't see it though, and he wasn't paying attention to anything that was being said, because he was fast asleep, grateful that he was not scrubbing toilets right now, and sure that Snape would sort things out.