Harry Potter awoke abruptly, halfway through Transfiguration with a pounding headache; although it was not that which woke him.

"Harry Potter!" screeched Professor McGonagall from above him, clearly at wits end. Harry jumped at least a foot and nearly fell out of his desk.

"Sorry Professor," Harry said sheepishly, hanging his head slightly and wondering how deep a sleep he’d been in. It looked like McGonagall had been yelling for some time.

"See me after class Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall sternly.

Harry flushed when he saw Malfoy watching him.

"Yes Professor," he replied quietly.

***

When the last of the students had handed in their finished work and departed, Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione and walked up to Professor McGonagall’s desk. He looked as though he was being sentenced to death.

"You wanted to see me Professor?" Harry inquired nervously, trying to avoid the stern woman’s gaze as he watched the snowflakes fall outside the window.

"Yes," she nodded curtly, motioning the teenager toward her desk. "First of all: ten points from Gryffindor for falling asleep in class."

Harry nodded. It was fair.

"Secondly, I would like to know Mr. Potter, are you alright?" she asked, sounding slightly concerned.

Harry was shocked into looking up at her. Professor McGonagall didn’t sound concerned often.

"Sorry?"

"Are you okay? Did you sleep alright last night? You are normally quite attentive in my class," said Professor McGonagall, looking at Harry closely, taking in the shadows beneath his eyes.

"I’m fine Professor. And I slept alright, I guess," shrugged Harry, still taken aback.

"Alright, you may go now," she sighed, taking a seat at her desk. "If you need anything, let me know."

Harry picked up his books on his way out of the room. He tried to calm his rapid breathing as he strode down the hall. For he had now begun to give his Professor’s question a thought: had he slept well? And that was the thing; he didn’t remember how he slept last night, or even what had happened in the past month. He had positively no memory of how he had gotten to Hogwarts, let alone to Transfiguration class!

***

"Come on mate, have some treacle tart at least. It’s your favourite!" Ron Weasley said, wafting a dish in Harry’s direction. "How can you possibly refuse food?"

"Are you sick Harry?" Hermione asked, with the same concerned expression McGonagall had worn. "You’re quite pale."

"I’m fine guys," Harry told them, trying to sound irritated, even though he didn’t believe that his words himself. Though his headache may have cleared up, he was still confused as to what was going on. "McGonagall gave me a few ginger newts so I’m not all that hungry right now."

"Why would she give you ginger newts if you were in trouble?" Ron said thickly through a mouthful of treacle tart.

"She thought I looked a bit peaky," Harry made up. He felt guilty lying to his friends, but after all, it was partially the truth.

"Well, if you’re going down to the kitchens later can I come? I’d like to talk with Dobby," Hermione said serenely, flipping through a book.

"Sure," Harry told her, promising himself to choke down a bit of food later for Hermione’s sake.

***

The next day dawned bright and cold, sunshine pouring into the Gryffindor dorm, where Harry lay sleeping. Though not for long, for he awoke as soon as the sunshine hit his bed, wanting so much to drift back into sleep, but finding he was unable to. So, dragging himself out of bed as quietly as possible, Harry dressed and made his way down the common room with his mind set on grabbing some toast from the kitchens and perhaps going up to the owlery to visit Hedwig.

On his way to see his owl, Harry pondered the strange dream he had had. The details were becoming increasingly hard to remember as he trotted along, and so he let it rest. That’s the thing with dreams, he thought, sometimes you remember them, and sometimes you don’t.

When Harry arrived at his destination, he stood there, up in the owlery, letting the chill winds caress his hair. He relished the cold on his ears and face, for it took away a little of the numbness he’d been feeling and made him feel so alive. Harry smiled as Hedwig flew in through one of the windows, landing on his shoulder and enthusiastically nibbling his ear as if to say I missed you.

"Hey, that tickles," Harry laughed, reaching up to scratch the feathers around her neck.

That was her favourite spot.

Hedwig hooted sleepily, shuffling off his shoulder and onto a perch.

"Hang on girl, I brought you a bit of toast," said Harry fondly, holding out a little piece of crust to the owl. She ate it gratefully before tucking her head behind her wing.

Harry watched her a little while longer, taking in the ever so familiar way her feathers rose and fell with each breath. He had the strangest feeling he hadn’t seen Hedwig in a while. But that was most likely due to the fact he didn’t really remember a lot at the moment. He sighed, taking one last glance at his feathery friend before descending from the owlery. It took him a moment to realise, but a few things had begun to trickle back to him. He now remembered visiting Hagrid not too long ago, and a few other trivial things from earlier in the year. This came with a relief to Harry, and he was even able to catch a little bit of rest in the common room before the other students got up. Besides, he thought lazily, I’ve probably just been stressed out about the extra homework we’ve had to do in preparation for NEWTs next year.

***

"Good to see you’re hungry today Harry," Hermione commented from across the table during lunch that day. Harry nodded, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Arg, I just remembered, Defence Against the Dark Arts after lunch …" Ron grimaced heartily as he served himself yet another bowl of soup.

"What’s wrong with Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Harry asked, clueless as he dipped a roll into his soup.

Hermione and Ron stared.

"Hello, don’t you remember who teaches it?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Er …" Harry said, wracking his brains for the answer, which mercifully came. "Oh right … Snape!"

"You need to get more sleep mate," Ron said, looking worried.

"Harry, is something wrong?" Hermione asked with concern.

"I’m perfectly fine, like Ron said, I didn’t get enough sleep last night," Harry said, covering up his mistake before excusing himself early to go to the bathroom.

"What is wrong with you Harry?" he whispered to himself a few minutes later, washing his face with some water from the bathroom sink. His insides felt as though his soup had decided to claw about his stomach.

He looked at himself in the mirror, shocked at how the shadows under his eyes stood out even more than yesterday and how his skin looked almost sickly. It was no wonder his friends were worried. His hands shook slightly as he struggled again to remember what had went on in the early months of the year, and before that.

"Um okay, Snape’s teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, so who teaches Potions?" he interrogated his reflection. "Think Harry think!"

"Right. And how did you get those scars on the back of your hand?" he tried himself.

Harry started to calm down. It was all there; he was just stressed. That was all there was to it.

With that last thought he made his way to class, and when he arrived, was startled to see almost the entire class in their seats. Had he been that long? Harry quickly scanned the room for his friends, and spied them almost immediately. Ron caught his eye and shoved a few books off of the seat next to him, which he had saved for Harry.

"Thanks," mouthed Harry as the bell rang, signalling the beginning of the lesson.

***

"Is it just me, or was Snape staring at me for almost the entire class?" Harry asked his friends as they left the classroom. He shot an uneasy glance back at the doorway, and sure enough, Snape was looking straight at him.

"He did seem to be observing you from a distance, that’s for sure," Hermione said thoughtfully. "You haven’t been out of bed after curfew lately have you?"

"I don’t think so," Harry said, combing his thoughts. "No I haven’t."

"Maybe he’s just being a creep, I mean, he does do that well after all," Ron reasoned.

"Oh well, best forget about it," Hermione re-assured Harry with a smile.

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry smiled back.

He was a still bit confused however, for the way Snape had stared at him wasn’t the look of utmost loathing he was used to. Though Harry wasn’t certain, he thought had caught a bit of pity, and maybe even regret within those dark eyes. And that, Harry knew, was not like Snape at all.

By the end of the day Snape’s peculiar behaviour had been driven out of Harry’s mind. This was due to the fact that he had begun to remember things at a faster rate, even if they were a bit fuzzy. Harry was so relieved in fact, that after doing some homework, he was able to relax and play a couple of games of wizard chess with Ron.

Hermione watched with interest as the two boys battled it out, occasionally nagging at Harry to do something about his chronic nightmares. It had been a very bad idea to tell Hermione that he was just sleep deprived as of late; she taken it to heart and was now bothering him to consult Madam Pomfrey. Of course, it didn’t help she had wheedled the little bit of information from Ron that Harry had been talking in his sleep and thrashing about. He didn’t really recall any nightmares, but fuzzy memories of waking up in a cold sweat had surfaced from his foggy brain.

"Harry, you should really see if Madam Pomfrey will give you some Dreamless Sleep Potion, you look terribly tired," she said for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"Hermione, I’ll be fine. I’ve always slept badly," he groaned. "Nightmares have plagued me as long as I can remember; it’s no big deal."

"Yes it is!" Hermione fought back. "You haven’t always looked this fatigued Harry, they must be getting worse. Not to mention that you nearly fell asleep while brewing your potion today!"

Harry didn’t respond, but he knew she was right.

"Look mate, maybe you should go to Pomfrey, you do look rough," Ron said nervously.

"You too then?" Harry asked Ron grouchily, and sure enough his friend’s ears turned red as his hair. "Oh all right then, if it makes you two feel better: I’ll go see Pomfrey!"

"Thank you so much Harry," Hermione said. "We can still make it before curfew, if we hurry."

"I take it I don’t have much choice?" sighed Harry.

"Not really mate," Ron said, getting up.

They were about to leave when Pigwidgeon, Ron’s owl, swooped through the window and started screeching excitedly while zooming about the common room.

"Blasted bird, has to show off," Ron muttered as the occupants of the room pointed at the feathery rocket. "You guys go ahead; I’ll be busy with Pig."

"Okay, see you," Harry said gloomily.

They walked quickly, and arrived at the hospital wing in good time. With a sigh Harry knocked on the door, and waited for it to be opened.

"You didn’t need to come you know," Harry told Hermione, but not impolitely.

"Harry, don’t be daft. We all know you would have gone off to do something else," Hermione said.

Harry grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah, well. I’ve spent enough time here already."

"Yes?" drawled a voice as the door creaked open.

"Erm, hello Professor Snape. Where’s Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked, craning his neck to see around Snape.

"She is away on business tonight Potter," Snape replied tonelessly. "I am in charge of the Hospital wing right now."

"What do you know about healing?" Harry blurted out, accidentally coming across as rather rude. Hermione frantically pretended to be interested in a painting nearby.

"Potion making and healing go hand in hand you imbecile," said Snape icily.

"Oh, right."

"What is it that you need Potter?" Snape inquired. "A headache draft to counter the effects of all those screaming fans?"

Harry clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. The latter of course made it hard to talk, so thankfully Hermione came to his rescue.

"He was hoping for a bit of Dreamless Sleep Potion sir."

"Is this true?" Snape asked Harry, who nodded in confirmation. "Come in then."

Harry and Hermione followed Professor Snape into the hospital wing, which was empty at the moment. They were told to stay by the door while Snape retreated into a store-room, returning within a few moments holding a small crystal phial of blue liquid.

"Take the entire dose before bed Potter. Don’t mix it with anything and don’t you dare drug anyone," Snape told him dryly, handing the phial to Harry, who slipped it in his pocket.

"Yes sir. Thank you," Harry said quietly, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at his Professor’s lack of confidence in him.

"And Mr. Potter," Snape called after Harry as he made to follow Hermione, who had just slipped out the door and was now out of earshot.

"I don’t think it’s going to help in your case," the Professor said, almost too softly to hear.

"Wait, what do you mea-" Harry began, but was cut off by a bit of a commotion.

A shaky first year limped through the doorway with the help of a prefect. The girl was as white as a ghost and looked as if she would faint.

"Sir, she tripped down the marble staircase, I think it’s broken," the Prefect said, gesturing to the girl’s ankle.

Snape rushed to the scene and hoisted the first year into his arms, carrying her to a bed. Harry took a moment to marvel at his Professor’s reaction time, it was almost as if he’d done this all his life. Shaking his head, Harry turned his back on the situation behind him and walked out the door, where Hermione was waiting for him.

"That poor girl, I hope she gets better soon …" Hermione muttered. Harry did not respond. "Are you alright Harry?"

"Oh, fine I guess. It’s just that Snape mentioned something odd. He said that he didn’t think the potion would help in 'my case'."

"Strange, you didn’t talk about your dreams at all …" she answered as they swiftly navigated the corridors.

"Strange is right-" Harry agreed, letting his real concerns remain silent. –mainly since I can’t even remember what I’ve been dreaming about.

When Harry woke up he found that Professor Snape had been completely right. Not only did the potion not stop him from dreaming, it appeared to have helped his dreams to stick in his mind better than the previous night. Though still, he could only remember one thing about the dream that had robbed his sleep: the feeling of being paralyzed, unable to move as people did around him. Harry was almost certain that the dream had been the same one as before, and oddly enough it seemed to be the only dream Harry had had at all.

Harry had intended to go see Professor Snape right away about his advice on the potion, but was distracted by a rather interesting sight in the corridors; half the student population’s hair had turned neon pink. Pranks these days were a regular occurance, seeing as people were still trying to establish themselves as lead pranksters of Hogwarts, now that Fred and George were gone. When Harry asked Ron about it, wondering who did it, Ron replied that everyone who had drank orange juice that morning was the victim of a mass prank orchestrated by a couple of seventh year Ravenclaws. Though it was well known to many students who the culprits were, the teachers hadn’t a clue who did it.

While Harry found that Draco Malfoy looked the funniest, Ron thought that pink hair looked the most amusing on Hermione, mainly because of the scowl she wore with it. However, after Defence Against the Dark Arts, both Ron and Harry agreed Professor Snape took the cake; he had looked extremely bitter about his inability to find an antidote, making Harry wonder why he even bothered to come to class rather than lurk in the dungeons until it wore off. Fortunately Harry had refrained from telling the Professor that not only had the prank done wonders for his hair colour, but for the grease as well. After all, he still needed to ask that question.

"Er, Professor?" Harry inquired rather nervously once the classroom was empty, hoping Snape wouldn’t snap at him.

"Yes Potter?" he growled, clearly miffed about his change of hair color.

"I was just wondering, why did you say that the Dreamless Sleep Potion probably wouldn’t work for me?"

"Because the dreams you have been having aren’t the usual kind," he replied simply. "Now, I do believe you have a class to go to."

"Yeah I do, but sir, how do you know that about my dreams? And if they aren’t the normal kind what are they?"

"For the love of Merlin …" Snape muttered, rolling his eyes. "If you’re so keen to know why, come down to my office at six-o-clock!"

"Ok, I’ll be there sir," Harry said gratefully before dashing off to Potions class. "And thank you!"

Severus Snape rolled his eyes once more. Though he was glad someone thought to thank him; even if it was Potter.

***

At five to six Harry arrived, waiting anxiously to hear what Snape had to say. Harry had to know, was he going crazy? Was he really just hallucinating and hadn’t had those dreams at all? Idea after idea swirled about his head, each making less sense than the last. Harry only stopped going over the possibilities when Snape opened the door.

"Come in Mr. Potter," Snape said, hair black once more and motioning for Harry to enter and sit down. There Harry patiently sat, mind ready for the explanation. Snape remained silent.

"Sir, are you going to tell me what’s going on or should I just go," Harry sighed.

"Oh yes, in due time. But I was wondering if you would like to tell me what you think is going on," Snape said evasively, narrowing his eyes at the boy who sat across from him.

"Well, if my dreams aren’t normal dreams … then only sensible thing I can think of is that they are some sort of vision. From Voldemort maybe?" Harry replied slowly.

"Not quite Mr. Potter. Tell me, have you been having trouble remembering anything as of late?" Snape said.

"I don’t see why that has anything to do with this Prof-"

"It has everything to do with it," Snape interrupted sharply, getting up to pace behind his desk.

"Sir?" Harry inquired, wondering what on earth Snape meant.

"Have you been having trouble remembering things lately? And if so, what sorts of things?" Snape repeated, this time elaborating a bit.

Harry hesitated a moment, but after receiving a frightening look from Snape, began. "I woke up in Transfiguration class the day before yesterday and I didn’t remember how I got there or anything that had happened this year."

"Anything else?" inquired the Professor calmly. It appeared that he had been expecting Harry’s answer. Which only further confused Harry. What did Snape know?

"At first I forgot that you taught Defence Against the Dark Arts; though I did remember eventually. Actually a lot of things have started to come back, even if they’re fuzzy."

"And why, Mr. Potter, do you think you are having this trouble with your memory?"

"Er, head injury?"

"That would not surprise me."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Harry said sarcastically, thinking that his professor was making fun of him. Snape didn’t hear him.

"Potter, I would like you, over the next couple days, to observe your surroundings. You will be looking for anything out of the ordinary, anything at all," Snape told him, looking thoughtful. "And notify me immediately of your findings."

"Yes sir," Harry said slowly, rather confused.

"You may go now, I have work to do."

"But sir, you haven’t answered my original question! What’s going on?" Harry asked Snape angrily as he was shooed out the door.

"I’m afraid this is one of those things you have to find out for yourself, Mr. Potter," Snape sighed.

There it was again, that look again. That same mixture of pity and regret that had Snape had bestowed on Harry earlier. And this time, Harry was sure of what he had seen.

He turned his back on Snape and strode out into the corridor. With a glance to recently closed door Harry leaned against the cold dungeon wall, letting himself slide to the floor, wondering. Not knowing that on the other side of the stone, Severus Snape did the same.

"How can I do this Lily?" questioned the Professor quietly, unaware of the fact that Harry could hear him through the crack beneath the door. "How can I save him this time?"

Over the next few days Harry did just what Snape suggested he do: Look for things that were out of the ordinary. He found it more and more difficult to pay attention however, as he was still having trouble sleeping. The dreams had continued unchanged, though Harry tried nothing to prevent them now. So every night he awoke at odd intervals, now hearing that last phrase that Snape had uttered from behind the doorway.

“How can I save him this time?”

This sentence haunted Harry. For the thing that bothered him the most was just what Snape was trying to save him from. And there was no way of asking without admitting what he had overheard.

So Harry watched, and waited, knowing that something would come along to help him see. And sure enough, three days after his meeting with Snape, he noticed it. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were nowhere to be seen, and he couldn’t remember them being at Hogwarts at all so far. He walked in a stupor past the empty armchairs by the fire over to a table where Ron sat.

"Hey Ron, where are Dean and Seamus?" he voiced his concern to his friend.

"Who?" asked Ron as he hastily scribbled the conclusion of his essay.

"Dean and Seamus. You know, they share our dormitory."

"Oh yeah. Dunno what you’re going on about, they’ve been here all along mate," Ron said calmly.

"No they haven’t!" Harry retorted, alarmed.

"Don’t be daft, they’re right over there," replied Ron, waving his quill lazily in the direction of the fireplace.

"I just came that way, they’re no-" he fell silent. The chairs were occupied now … with Dean, and Seamus.

"Wait, where are you going?" Ron called after Harry as he rushed to the portrait hole.

"I forgot my essay in the library," Harry lied, stepping out into the corridor and making his way to the office of Severus Snape.

***

"Professor Snape!" Harry said frantically, hammering on the door.

"What is it Potter," Snape said a little irritably as he poked his long nose out of the doorway.

"Well, I was doing what you said to do, and I noticed something. Something big," the teenager gasped back. Snape raised his eyebrows and ushered him in.

"Well, what is it?" inquired the professor once they were seated.

Harry began, telling Snape of his realization and of Ron’s reaction. The more he said the stranger it seemed. Snape listened well, nodding his head occasionally and asking Harry further questions. When Harry finished, Snape sat there, thinking. It was a long time before Harry broke the silence.

"Am I hallucinating sir?" he asked uncertainly.

"No. But things are not what they seem Potter. You’d better get back to your dormitory," he said. "Let me know of any other revelations."

"Yes sir," Harry said, trying to ignore the fact that Snape was still keeping quiet.

As soon as he was out of sight he took his anger out on a stone wall, which resulted in his foot feeling quite painful. For a moment Harry actually thought he saw the stone wall flicker slightly where his foot hit, almost as though it were a telly with bad reception. But he shook his head, and muttered angrily about seeing things.

And he says I’m not hallucinating … Harry thought, trudging down the corridors.

***

The days went by and turned to weeks, sometimes bringing another revelation within them. And as time progressed Harry realised that Ginny too was missing, but just as with Seamus and Dean she conveniently appeared out of nowhere, others denying the fact that she had ever been missing. Harry was still having those dreams, every time waking up in a cold sweat in a dormitory that seemed so dark compared to the place with the bright light he’d been in. The only thing besides the missing people and dreams to catch Harry’s attention was the fact that sometimes corridors appeared to go on forever or even end in mist, but the end of the corridor was always within sight when he took a second glance. Harry attributed this to his bad vision, but one day, in passing, mentioned it to Snape. Who had informed him to look closer the next time, and perhaps he might see more. Harry hadn’t much clue as to what his professor meant, but did not complain. He did not want to ruin the almost friendly relationship he and Snape now had. He had not been insulted by Snape in a very long time, and had begun to trust him even. To a point. However, there came a day, not long before the Christmas holidays that brought about the start of a new perspective for each of them.

"Ouch …" Harry murmured groggily, massaging his left side, which had suddenly become painful.

He blinked sleepily, trying to figure out where he was. His eyes fell upon the moon, rising above the forbidden forest in the dead of night. The lake shimmered before him, a path of moonlight dancing across it. This was not his dormitory.

Harry backed away, unsure of how he got down by the lake. He shivered in the December air, for he was in his pyjamas and wearing no shoes. Behind him, tracks in the frost indicated his steps. But Harry didn’t know how he had gotten there. He did not give it too much thought though, for the pain in his side was terrible.

Harry stumbled up to the castle, taking one more glance at the lake. A light mist danced about the waters, but it was gone with the blink of an eye. Just like in the corridors. Still, the only thing that occupied Harry was the growing fuzz in his head and the sharp throb in his left side; added to it was the ache of his right ankle and arm. He let his feet drag him down a familiar route, barely aware that it was not the way to the hospital wing as he had intended to travel. With ragged breath he descended down staircases, not paying attention to what he was doing as the sound of his bare feet slapping against the dungeon floor rang through his ears. Harry’s eyes were watering and he was fighting back sobs by the time he reached Snape’s office. He knocked, praying that Snape was in there, or that he could hear him somehow. He slumped up against the door clutching his side, having trouble keeping his aching ankle on the floor. Luckily for him, his prayer was answered.

"Who on earth-" Snape growled grouchily, looking rather deranged with his mussed up hair and worn dressing gown. His eyes widened in surprise when Harry slid toward him as he opened the door. "Potter!"

He caught Harry quickly, who had gone quite grey and was looking like he was going to pass out.

"Are you hurt, are you sick?" Snape questioned Harry, all traces of anger and annoyance gone as he supported the boy’s weight.

"My s-side, ankle … head fuzzy," Harry mumbled weakly, dazed and wondering what was happening to him.

"Come with me Harry," said Professor Snape softly, helping the hurt boy through a secret door in his office, which revealed a cozy sitting room. He got Harry to lie down on a worn sofa that sat before the fire.

"’M I gonna be ok sir?" Harry asked as he was covered with a soft blanket.

"Yes, but the pain might take a while to go away," Snape said, sounding tired.

The pain consumed Harry. Eventually however, his ankle throbbed less, and the hurt in his arm went away. And Snape sat next to him until he fell asleep.

***

Harry awoke the next day, a little bit confused to find himself back in his dormitory. He wondered how he got there, and if the previous night had been a dream. But the way Snape watched over him in class that day he knew it had to have been real.

For majority of the day, besides a little stiffness, all trace of the pain was gone. However, during lunch break, Harry was talking with Ron by the beech tree when the pain suddenly returned. And though it was not near as severe as the previous night, Harry had a feeling that it should not be ignored, so he went to see Madam Pomfrey.

"Hello Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?" Madam Pomfrey said, beckoning Harry into the nearly empty hospital wing.

"Well, last night I was having this really sharp pain in my left side. It went away for a while, but it came back just a few minutes ago," he winced slightly, rubbing his side. "I was wondering if you could tell me why."

"Is it just your side, or are other areas affected?"

"My arm and my ankle. And my head felt all fuzzy last night, it’s sort of feeling that way now too."

"Hmm, have you had any mishaps as of late?" she questioned.

"Not that I can think of," Harry told her, wracking his brains.

"Well then, let me do a few charms. We’ll most certainly find the problem," Madam Pomfrey said, getting Harry to lay down on a bed while she waved her wand about in complicated patterns; it took quite some time, and the completion of each charm left a deeper frown on Madam Pomfrey’s face.

"Is it bad?" Harry asked cautiously when she finished.

"No, on the contrary Mr. Potter, you are a perfectly healthy sixteen year old boy," she replied, sounding rather confused.

"What?"

"That would be my opinion as well."

"But then how come it feels like I broke something?"

Madam Pomfrey fingered her wand thoughtfully before speaking: "Well … I have a theory. But it’s really just a vague idea. As I recall, you have broken a rib before, have you not?"

"Yeah, bludger … hurt really bad. Why?"

She fell silent for a few minutes.

"The only thing I can think of, which isn’t likely, is that you are experiencing something similar to phantom pain. That is when a person has a limb amputated, and they still feel the missing limb. Maybe your brain is somehow recalling the pain from previous wounds. Though that would be very unlikely, if not impossible..." Madam Pomfrey pondered. "I did every diagnosis charm I know. I could get a specialist from St. Mungos …"

"But how could the phantom pain thing explain my ankle and arm?" Harry blurted.

Madam Pomfrey stared at him.

"Oh, right," he blushed, suddenly remembering how he had hurt his leg during the Triwizard Tournament and his arm from a bludger back in second year.

"Well Mr. Potter, how about I write you a note so you go back to your dormitory and rest? I’ll let you know if I figure something out." Madam Pomfrey said.

"Thank you," Harry said, thinking that the last thing he needed was more time for nightmares. "But I think I’d rather go to class."

"If that is your wish," she said. "However, if it gets worse let me know."

Harry nodded and left, pondering this new information.

***

"Your condition isn’t something that can be detected by a medi-witch," Snape replied shortly when Harry told him of Madam Pomfrey’s confusion during an evening visit to his office.

"But what is my condition?" Harry said rather angrily.

"I cannot say, you must find that out for yourself," Snape told Harry for what seemed the thousandth time.

"But sir!"

"You will understand eventually."

Harry left soon after, growling and cursing his professor. He couldn’t quite bring himself to hate Snape now however. It was hard to forget the previous night, when Snape had looked after him and talked him through the pain. He was almost at the end of the corridor when he heard her calling out his name.

"Ginny?" Harry asked uncertainly, looking around for the owner of the voice. There was no response.

He stood there, looking around the desolate corridor, silent but for her voice calling his name. It echoed through the dungeons, and somehow in Harry’s head at the same time. How hauntingly it rang through his ears, stirring up a strange sort of longing that he could not explain. It was sort of a combination of feelings; he so badly wanted to leave the place he was and find the source of the voice, but at the same time he wished to stay. It confused him beyond belief, and so, forgetting his previous anger, Harry turned on his heel and ran to Snape’s door, hoping for an answer.

"Sir, can you hear her?" Harry asked breathlessly as his professor stuck his nose out the door, one eyebrow raised, as was his custom.

"No, hear who?" Snape drawled.

"Ginny, she keeps … calling my name," Harry asked, realising just how odd his statement was. "But she doesn’t sound, well, a whole lot like Ginny. She sounds, sad and … lost almost. Why?"

"Because that isn’t the Ginny Weasley you know right now Harry," sighed Snape. "You’re hearing her from very far away. It would be best for you to go to sleep."

"Far away sir? What do you mean," Harry inquired softly. Snape just shook his head, that look of pity on his face again.

And that was when Harry became afraid.

During the night Harry tossed and turned in his bed, trying figure things out . He made the transition to sleep very slowly, but when he did, things were almost exactly the same. The dream, the bright light. This time however, he heard Ginny calling his name again, but it seemed clearer. He tried to go to her, but was paralyzed like the many nights before. It drove him mad nearly, trying to get to her, feeling that his life depended on turning his head to look at her. This went on for what seemed like forever, until suddenly, the room began to get dimmer and the voices more distant.

Harry was awake again. Standing out by the lake like the night before, so very aware of the December chill seeping through his bones and the aching pains that had taken over him once again. But this time, Snape was waiting for him not far from the misty lakeshore, a blanket in hand. He wrapped it around Harry and guided him back to his quarters. When they reached them, it was like the previous night; Harry was settled on the sofa while Snape talked softly to him, waiting for the boy to relax, and for his pain to end. Harry was very grateful for this, and wondered how late it was, and how tired his Professor was. The pain went away eventually, and he was almost asleep.

"Come on Harry, you need to get back to your bed," Snape announced softly as Harry was beginning to nod off.

"But it's so warm," Harry mumbled. "Don't wanna move ..."

"I know. You got off easy last night, seeing as you fell asleep before the pain went away and I was afraid it might return if I woke you. I ended up levitating you to your bed," said Snape, sounding slightly amused."You looked quite rediculous, floating through the corridors ..."

"You did?" Harry asked, mind feeling extremely fuzzy.

"Yes."

"Sorry," Harry whispered.

"What for?" asked Snape, confused.

"For being a burden."

"You're not a burden Harry," Snape said quietly, helping Harry up and draping the blanket over his shoulders before leading him out the door.

He and Harry walked through the still corridors, moonlight pouring through the windows as Snape led the boy up into his dormitory, making sure he got there safely. The pain had not returned, and for this Harry was grateful. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow and did not notice when Snape tucked the covers around him.

***

He awoke in the morning, vaguely recalling the events of the night, which seemed fuzzy from pain and fatigue. He wondered if he had imagined that Snape called him Harry, for he wasn't quite sure. Pondering this, he pushed the covers off and looked to his nightstand, where a note lay. It was from Snape.

It appears you have been sleepwalking Mr. Potter. I'd be positively delighted to glue you to your bed if I did not believe something good can come of this, which is why I must ask you to pay attention to where you are sleepwalking to. You may have noticed that you travelled a little further down the side of the lake than you did the first time you went on a little adventure. If you haven't, you know now. It is my belief that your subconscious is trying to tell you something. Therefore I suggest you apply the art of listening in the hopes that you will discover just what your subconscious is trying to point out to you. If you need instruction on how to listen, ask Granger.

- Severus Snape

P.S. Try wearing shoes to bed. I doubt this will stop soon.

"Who's the note from?" Ron asked sleepily, as he rolled out of bed.

"Snape," Harry told Ron.

"What, did you get detention?"

"Er no, he's just telling me to listen more and ... wear shoes to bed," Harry said, choking back laughter.

"You really need new glasses Harry," Ron said breaking into peals of laughter as he pulled on his socks.

"Maybe," said Harry, joining in with Ron's laughter. It felt good to laugh

***

Harry continued to sleepwalk each night, and things proceeded in the same fashion. He took Snape's advice about wearing shoes to bed, though he wore slippers instead; Neville was really kind and gave him an old pair that no longer fit. And so, every night Harry journeyed a little further down the lakeshore, slowly edging closer to the forbidden forest. And each time Snape followed him and made sure he didn't get hurt, bringing him back to his quarters when the pain started. The aches got a little worse every night, and they seemed to crop up on Harry when he was near the lake or the forbidden forest even during the daytime. Snape said it had something to do with what was in the forest and the place his subconscious was taking him to. One night Harry asked why Snape couldn't just make sure he stayed in his bed, and if that would stop the pain. But Snape said this was important for Harry to recover from what was causing all of the strange things happening to him. So he didn't ask again.

  As more time passed, Snape and Harry's relationship had improved, and they were now on a first name basis outside of class. Professor Snape had said it was getting on his nerves when Harry had begun to refer to him as just "Snape", and that "Professor Snape" was getting annoyingly lengthy. Harry thought Snape was just got sick of calling him Potter all the time, and would feel less stupid if Harry called him by his first name too. After all, Harry visited quite often. Quite frankly Harry still was not sure why Snape didn't hate him anymore. Perhaps it had something to do with what was going on with him.

During these visits Harry had begun to think that it was sort of amazing how much he and Severus had in common. It almost eerie really; they both hated blueberries, had unsatisfactory families, were quite fond of hippogriffs and treacle tart, despised giggly girls and found Dumbledore positively aggravating. But the biggest thing that they had in common, Harry learned one day, was that Severus had known his mother. Harry was delighted when Snape unearthed an old photo album to show him.

"Oh look, my mother took this one shortly before we started Hogwarts. I had broken my arm and Lily brought her new owl Talon for a visit," said Severus, pointing to a faded photograph of two kids. The young Severus was laying in bed with his arm all bandaged up, watching as Lily fed her owl a treat.

"I thought your Mum was a witch, couldn't she heal your arm?" Harry asked.

"No, she was terrible with healing charms, great with potions though. Had to wait a little while to go to St. Mungo's," answered Severus.

"How did you break your arm anyway?" Harry inquired, curious.

Snape froze.

"Severus? Are you ok?"

"Fine."

"You don't have to tell me how you broke it," Harry said, alarm bells going off.

"No, it's alright I guess, you've told me of your family, it's time I shared a little about mine," Severus began slowly, twisting his hands in his lap. "Remember when I said I didn't really get along with my father?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he was a bit of a drunk, and an angry one at that, and one day... he ..." Snape faltered.

"He didn't ...?" Harry asked, horrified.

"He did," Severus said bitterly, fire in his eyes. "Was fired up about something, knocked me down the stairs. I don't think he really meant to, but he still did it."

"Gee, and I thought I had it bad with the Dursleys, getting stuffed in a cupboard and all," Harry whispered. "Kind of makes the freak comments seem a little less harsh too."

"It wasn't all bad Harry, my father was only violent when he drank. It was strange how much a change he went through with a bottle in his hand," Snape sighed, "What I went through hurts about the same as what's going on at your aunt and uncle's. Verbal abuse is just as bad. Sometimes worse. I'm really sorry Albus is so stubborn on the matter."

"Yeah, but at least I do get to stay with the Weasleys most of the summer," Harry said, trying to sound cheerful.

"That is true. Oh, look at the time, I suppose you should run along now, somebody informed me that you have a test tomorrow in a certain greasy haired dungeon bat's class," Severus told Harry with amusement.

"Oh ... right," Harry muttered, cursing himself for forgetting. "See you Severus."

"Goodbye Harry," he said, pulling a few papers towards him and beginning to mark them.

***

The day before Christmas holidays found Harry walking along the corridors of Hogwarts in a rather grouchy mood. He had wanted to go to the Burrow for Christmas with Ron but Dumbledore had sent him a note saying he had to stay because the enchantments weren't quite strong enough there. He would have been fairly okay with this if it weren't for the fact that Hermione was going home too and he would be the only one in Gryffindor Tower. Not that Harry minded the quiet, he just felt a little left out.

Hermione, Ginny and Ron were all busy packing, and Harry was too miffed to stick around while they were. So he trudged down the corridors, trying to determine what he should do in the meantime. Normally Harry might have taken a walk down by the lake, but seeing as every time he got near there these days it felt like he had been trampled by a dragon, he wasn't too keen on doing that. Therefore, after much wandering, huffing and puffing he ended up taking a seat on the base of a statue somewhere on the fourth floor.

He'd been there at least fifteen minutes, thinking about nothing in particular when he heard a noise to his right. Harry glanced down the corridor, and saw that all too familiar mist gathering at the end of it. He looked deeper into the fog, and from within it came the soft sound of distant footsteps that had alerted him. A girl materialised from the mist. Harry took his glasses off and rubbed them to determine whether or not he was seeing things. He wasn't.

"Harry, please ..." called the girl from the mist. Harry stood up, staring at her, frozen in wonder.

It was Ginny again, but she looked different. And she was crying. Harry had never seen Ginny cry like that before.

"Please come back ..." she sobbed with her arm outstretched toward him, her image in the mist fading with the echo of her voice.

"Wait, what's wrong Ginny? Ginny come back!" Harry shouted frantically, starting to run to her, wondering what Ginny was doing here when she should be packing.

Harry reached out his arm toward hers, and was about to gasp her hand when she vanished, leaving him standing there. Corridor empty once more, and nothing left but the heart shattering echo of her voice.

It was then that he realised the difference. Ginny had looked older, and there had been a faded scar across her arm that had not there when he'd last seen her in Gryffindor Tower. Suddenly, a blinding pain shot through his body and he saw briefly a picture of Hogwarts. The castle was swarming with people, fighting. Bodies littered the grounds. Ginny kneeled by a girl, who was asking for her mother. Though the image receded as soon after it came, it stayed, imprinted in Harry's mind. Silent, he stood there, shaking. Wondering. Wishing all he had seen was not real. But his heart told him it was.

"Quit moping about Harry, perhaps it is better this way. For all we know you could have decided to sleepwalk to the lake all the way from the Weasley's," Severus tried in vain to make Harry feel better the next day.

"I s'pose," he muttered gloomily, staring at his cold tea.

Severus scowled, clearly thinking hard.

"Maybe you are right. After all, I'd be pretty depressed if I had to spend a few weeks with no one but Snape for company ... Oh, wait ..." Severus said dryly. Harry snorted into his tea.

"Finally," Snape said rather smugly. "About time you cheered up, you're gloomy demeanour was overshadowing even mine."

"Thanks," Harry said. "You're probably right anyways; It would be just my luck to try to sleepwalk all the way to Hogwarts."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Can we go work on potions now?" Harry asked hopefully. He'd been bothering Severus to help him out with brewing for ages.

"Alright; I still can't decide if you're persistent or pestilent Potter. Perhaps you are both."

"I'd say both," grinned Harry, following his professor into his potions lab. Snape let out a low laugh.

"Less cheek or you'll find your tongue glued to the side of your mouth."

"Yes Sir."

***

"And stir er ...twice?" inqured Harry a while later, squinting at a page in his textbook.

"Three times," corrected Severus.

"Then put the bat spleen in?'

"No, after you put in the bat spleen," he said sharply.

"But the instructions say before you put it in."

"How bad is your vision Potter ..." Severus wondered, double checking the book to make sure there wasn't a printing error. "Aren't you wearing your glasses?'

"Well, let's see, they're on my face Severus. What do you think?" Harry said rather grumpily.

"Watch it, just because I've been less strict as of late doesn't mean I won't take house points," warned Severus, gesturing for Harry to give him his glasses.

Severus took the glasses from Harry and held them at arms length. He stared at them a moment before setting them on the workbench and tapping them with his wand. The glasses began to glow blue. Severus handed the still glowing spectacles to Harry, telling him to put them on. He did so, and within seconds the glasses had returned to their normal appearance. Harry's mouth opened in amazement as he blinked stupidly.

"Better?" Severus asked with the air of someone who had merely polished the lenses.

"Better?" Harry said incredulously. "I didn't even know people could see this good! What on earth did you do?'

"I adjusted them to your eyes. It's a simple charm," Severus said. "So your aunt or uncle never took you to a muggle eye specialist then?"

"No, Aunt Petunia just gave me these old things one day. Dunno where she got them," Harry replied, taken aback by the expression of fury on Severus' face.

"That horrid bit ... Er, toad!" Snape said passionately, catching himself just in time. Harry stared in amusement at his professor, who looked rather sheepish. "Well, what are you staring at? Get back to work!"

***

The light nearly blinded Harry as it shone down to where he lay. Once again he could not move, and people bustled about nearby, though many took no notice of him. But there was someone sitting beside him, saying comforting words. Suddenly, Harry was moving. Whatever he lay on was travelling out of the bright room and into a long hallway.

Harry was in motion for a long time, and he sensed that he was rising somehow, and then he stopped. The person who had been sitting next to him held his limp hand. Harry's vision cleared briefly; it was just long enough for him make out a name among the other words written across the door. It opened, and he caught a glimpse of wood pannelling and dim lights, but the name stayed, imprinted before his eyes ... Atta Leytromier.

Harry bolted upright in his bed, moving his right hand to make sure it had all been a dream. Only moments before he had been sure someone was holding it. Harry shook it off however, although his hand still felt oddly warm. His dream was quite different from the pattern he'd grown used to, he briefly pondered on the name he'd seen, but was soon distracted. For he had forgotten completely that it was Christmas day, and was quite surprised for a moment when he caught sight of the small stack of presents at the end of his four-poster. Harry also noted that it was almost eleven a.m, though he did not find this surprising having, once again, taken a jaunt through the grounds during the night. It had been very late when Snape had finally escorted him back to his dormitory, so naturally, he had slept in.

Harry enthusiastically unwrapped his presents, almost managing to forget the strange dream. As he munched enthusiastically on a piece of homemade fudge (courtesy of Mrs. Weasley) he couldn't help but cheer up. Hedwig hooted from atop Harry's trunk, ruffling her feathers and shuffling her feet. Judging by the cramped, slanted writing it was from Severus.

Harry,

Thank you for the card, hopefully you've been able to sleep in and your owl hasn't pestered you constantly, trying to get you to untie this note. Meet me in my quarters at eleven thirty, I've found something you might like.

-Severus

Harry scratched the back of Hedwig's neck briefly before going off to have a shower. When he was dressed, he wandered leisurely through the castle, which was quite empty. The Christmas decorations brought his spirits up a bit, and the prospect of a visit with Severus made him feel a bit less lonely. The dungeons were cold as ever, but Harry was warm in the new jumper Mrs. Weasley had made for him.

"Happy Christmas Severus," Harry said as he was ushered into Snape's quarters.

"Happy Christmas to you too Harry. I see Molly's made you a new jumper," Severus commented. "Glad she didn't bother sending me one again."

"Mrs. Weasley knitted you a jumper?" Harry laughed incredulously as he took a seat at the table.

"She did," Severus said, sounding extremely annoyed as he poured Harry tea, "Last year she felt sorry for me, after hearing Albus talk about how he's the only one that sends me a gift on Christmas."

"What colour was it?" Harry snorted.

"Navy blue," he grimaced.

"Did she put a letter on it too?'

"Thank Merlin no, I'd look like a real pratt with a big S on the front of my jumper."

"You know, they're lovely and warm, you should wear yours!" Harry laughed, pulling at the knitted fabric of his own jumper, which was green.

"Not at Hogwarts, that's for sure." Severus answered before changing the subject "Speaking of gifts, I've got something that you might like ..."

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it was your mother's," he said, retrieving a little package from a shelf near the window. "I gave it to her for her fourteenth birthday, just stumbled upon it one day at a little shop in Hogsmeade. It's not much ..."

Harry unwrapped the gift, and found a necklace. The pendant was a small lily made from metal. It was slightly tarnished, but Harry liked it anyway.

"This was Mum's?"

"Yes," Severus sighed heavily. "She used to wear it all the time. The night she died I went to Godric's Hollow ... found it lying in the rubble."

"What sort of metal is this anyway?" Harry asked, fingering it curiously, for the metal seemed warm to the touch, which was odd considering it had been sitting near the cold window.

"No idea, the shopkeeper didn't know. It was a second hand shop." Severus said rather warily before muttering something about not being able to afford something nicer.

"It's great. Really," Harry said, smiling.

"I'm glad you like it."

"Come on Severus, Weasley jumpers aren't that bad! Besides, it's such a cold day ..." Harry teased once more.

"That's it, ten points from Gryffindor!" snapped Severus. Harry cringed.

***

That night was terrible for Harry, once again he had wandered out into the grounds in his sleep and he awoke just as Severus was draping a blanket around his shoulders. The aches and pain had reached an all time high, and consumed him. Harry just barely registered that he was somewhere in the forbidden forest, in front of wide and deep stream that probably led to the lake.

"I don't understand, it should have been open," muttered Severus cryptically as he held Harry up, who was wavering back and forth in a haze of intense pain.

Snape stood there, stock still and watching the stream, as if he expected something to appear on the other side. It wasn't until Harry accidentally let a small sob escape that he was brought back to reality.

"Right, come on Harry, let's get you back to the castle," said Severus, practically carrying Harry over the root covered ground of the forest.

Through the still, dark corridors they went. Eventually they reached Severus' quarters, and Severus, like many nights before, helped Harry onto the sofa and tucked the blanket around him. He sighed and sat in a chair next to Harry. The shadows under both their eyes stood out starkly; many nights like this one had taken their toll.

Harry let out a shuddering gasp as the aches flared up again. He was seeing things before his eyes as well, Ginny talking with someone in strange wood panneled room.

"Why does it hurt so much?" Harry inquired when his vision had cleared, trying in vain to keep his breathing regular.

"I cannot say Harry, it will hurt you more if I do," Severus told him wearily.

, "'m tired of not knowing." he whispered weakly, tears running down his face. "I'm tired of being scared of what's happening to me."

"I know you are Harry," Severus told him gently. "But you must be brave, be the true Gryffindor I know you are."

"No. Don't wanna be brave," Harry whispered, shaking his head.

He gasped in pain as another image overtook his mind, eating away at his insides like a poison. It was of Ron and Hermione, standing nearby, they were blinking back tears. Like the Ginny from his visions, they looked older.

"I don't wanna be brave." he whispered once more, quickly becoming delirious in his anguish. "I want Mum. Can't she be here?'

"Harry, you know where she is," Severus replied. "She's watching from afar ... along with your father."

"But I wish ..."

"I know, I wish they could have been there for you too," he replied, encasing Harry's hand in his own. "But I am here."

Harry closed his eyes, hot tears falling from his cheeks as flashes of images passed across his vision. Waiting for the pain to leave. Much as Severus had done for all those years.

After a long holiday of solitude, Harry was feeling quite claustrophobic within the crowded common room. He enjoyed Ron and Hermione's company again, but wanted to be alone. He had been hungry however, so he hastily gulped down some food at dinner and  then left the stuffy room to wander the corridors, going nowhere.

Harry had been more confused than ever the past few days, for not only had he quit sleepwalking altogether since Christmas night, but his memories seemed to overlap. Sometimes he would think about something that had happened over the year, and find that he had two memories. An example was of Christmas. He could have sworn he could remember going to The Burrow this year, but he had been at school. It was strange, and he had an odd feeling that his mind had not fabricated the memory, as it was so real. He even recalled Fleur making crude remarks about Celestina Warbeck, Mrs. Weasley's favourite singer. All of his confusion merely added to his feeling of isolation, for he didn't dare confide in Ron or Hermione. He feared they would make him go to Pomfrey who hadn't been overly helpful as of late.

He dodged a group of students walking past by ducking behind a suit of armour. He only came out to continue on his way once they were gone. Harry had absolutely no intention of talking with anyone, which was why he decided to sit in one of the secret passageways. In this case, the one located behind a painting close by the entrance hall. The passage was wide, and ended in a spiral staircase that came out behind a large portrait in a classroom near the dungeons. It was always quiet, and Harry was almost sure he was one that knew about it.

It was a relief when he reached it, and he sighed as he entered the dim tunnel, taking a seat against the wall near the entrance. Smiling at the quiet, he let his mind go blank and just relax. But he didn't bargain on someone else being there.

"Potter?" Draco Malfoy said, having come up the staircase to investigate the footsteps he'd heard.

"Piss off Malfoy," Harry hissed, furious that his hiding spot had been given away.

"Well what if I like it here Potter?" Malfoy spat. "You should get out."

"I'm not going anywhere. Don't make me hex you."

"Go ahead, if you've got the guts!" belted out Malfoy, clearly angry about something.

"Fine!" Harry's yell rang through the passageway as he whipped out his wand.

A loud crunching noise echoed through the tunnel. Tiny pieces of rock rained down on the two teenagers.

"Shit! Be quiet Potter," Malfoy whispered, "Rock's unstable."

Their fight forgotten, Harry motioned for Malfoy to follow him. Softly they tiptoed through the passage and toward the way Harry came in, very aware of the snapping and cracking noises coming from the ceiling. It was going to cave in, like many of the old passageways of the school had before it. 

"Psst!" Malfoy hissed, grabbing onto Harry's shoulder and pointing up at a huge crack that had formed right above their way out.

The arch of stone seemed to wobble slightly. The wood that made up the back of the painting covering the entrance splintered as the jagged pieces of rock shifted once more; a small piece of stone fell from the ceiling and rattled across the floor. Malfoy dragged Harry to the spiral staircase, away from the painting. They were moving as fast as they dared, for cracks had begun to spread like a spider's web across the ceiling and walls, following them. An ominous snap sounded and the long passage began to shudder, walls shaking and floor creaking.

Harry pushed Malfoy from behind to make him go faster, their pale faces shining in the torchlight. And then suddenly, for a moment, everything was silent. Harry hesitated and Malfoy whipped around. He yanked Harry's arm and pulled him on the staircase as the ceiling started to crumble and fall, shaking their very bones as rock smashed to the ground. The two tumbled to the bottom of the staircase, dust and debris following them. Harry tripped, and he couldn't get up for he was unable to figure out where up or down was. Amidst the dust and crashing Harry felt Malfoy grab hold of him and drag him to his feet, pushing him up against a wall. He shouted something, but Harry didn't hear. He put his arms over his head, holding his breath, knowing death was near. But the rumble slowly receded, and the dust cleared. He was alive.

Above him Harry could see a glowing shield had spread out, which had kept debris from hitting them. Malfoy sat next to him, panting with one arm around his head, the other arm outstretched, his wand pointing outward.

"You saved me," Harry said in awe.

"Trust me, I owe you," Malfoy muttered heavily, lowering his wand as the shield flickered and died.

It grew dark now that the shield was gone. Harry conjured up a candle and lit it for light. He pondered Malfoy's statement, which he had not clarified. Harry hadn't the heart to ask what he meant; the look in Malfoy's eyes was dead depressing.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. It was Malfoy who finally spoke.

"Let's get out of here."

"I'm not sure we'll be able to," Harry replied, "Look at the the way the rock's piled up."

Malfoy moaned at the sight before him. The staircase had collapsed, the passageway above totally obliterated. But the worst part was, the exit that should have led out into the dungeons was blocked by a towering pile of rock, a huge slab of ceiling was being held up by it. If they moved it, the rest of the ceiling would come crashing down on them. A common shield charm would do little to protect them from such force.

"I guess we'll be stuck here a while then," groaned the Slytherin, sitting down, back up against the wall. "Does anyone know you wandered off Potter?'

"No. You?'

"Didn't tell a soul. I guess we'll have to rely on your friends to notice your absence then, Crabbe and Goyle are total idiots."

"Glad I'm not the only one that thinks that," Harry said, surprised. "Hang on, do you think someone would have heard the collapse?'

"Potter, everyone's at dinner," sighed Malfoy.

With that Harry sunk down beside him, cursing himself for wandering off, cursing himself for having the Marauder's Map in his pocket and not in his dorm where Ron could access it, and knowing that there was nothing to be done but wait.

***

"Well Potter, we might as well get to know each other a bit better if we're going to be trapped for a while," suggested Malfoy dully after about ten minutes of silence. "Er ...what's your favourite food?"

"Alright, treacle tart, yours?" replied Harry, glad for something the distraction.

"Shepherd's pie. Next question, it's your pick."

"How about ... favourite subject?"

"Do you want me to answer that honestly?" Malfoy said rather uneasily.

"Duh," Harry laughed. Malfoy almost cracked smile.

"Herbology actually," he said eventually.

"Really?"

"No joke. I've always liked plants really, back home I've got a garden. I s'pose people don't associate the name Malfoy and plants a lot. Well, maybe a venomous tantacula."

"I never knew that ... Your turn to ask."

"How about the craziest thing you've eaten for breakfast," Malfoy said.

"Let's see ... I practically ate cake for breakfast the entire summer before fourth year. My cousin was on a diet and my aunt thought it would be easier for him if we all survived off celery and grapefruit too," Harry told Malfoy. "My friends sent me cakes on my birthday, so that was pretty much the only thing I had to eat."

"Your aunt sounds a bit round the bend ..."

"My uncle makes her look sane," Harry rolled his eyes. "So what's the craziest thing you've eaten for breakfast?"

"Well, this one time when I was five I ate a snail because what my father tried to make for breakfast for Mother's day was really gross and I was so hungry," Malfoy laughed. "I ate just about anything when I was little, except what my father cooked."

"A snail!" Harry exclaimed, pulling a face.

"Yes, it was pretty slimy. But it sure beat my father's cooking. Mother considered it a gift after that if Father didn't try to cook for her!"

They proceeded in this fashion for a long time, each learning new things about each other. These things got more detailed, and by the time four hours had passed, the subject of fears came along.

"Deep water," grimaced Malfoy. "I can't stand it, scares the hell out of me."

"I tend to agree," Harry said.

"See, I might not mind it, other than the fact that I can't swim," said Malfoy. "Mother tried to teach me, but I nearly drowned and she didn't let me near the water again."

"My aunt and uncle never bothered to give me swimming lessons," Harry shared. "Probably hoped I'd drown one day."

"Your relatives sound quite charming," said Malfoy sarcastically.

"Even more so in person," Harry laughed bitterly.

"Go ahead, your turn to share."

"Dementors, they're what scare me most..." Harry shuddered.

"Why?" Malfoy asked. "I mean sure, they're right depressing ... but of all things, why Dementors?"

"Do you know what I hear every time one gets near me?" whispered Harry, taking a chance.

"Hermione Granger singing in the shower?" joked Malfoy.

"No ... Mum screaming as she tries to protect me from Voldemort. Sometimes I hear Dad too, telling her to take me and run."

"That's horrible ..." muttered Malfoy, looking quite guilty for joking earlier.

Harry nodded. Silence fell. It was a long time before anyone spoke.

"I'm sorry I made fun of you so much Harry," Malfoy blurted out suddenly. "I'm sorry for everything. I was a git."

"I think it's time we buried the hatchet, you know?" Harry replied slowly, reaching his hand out to Draco. "Equals?'

"Equals." Draco said, grasping Harry's hand and giving it a firm shake.

Minutes went by, sometimes sluggishly and sometimes fast, depending on the conversation. Those minutes turned to hours until seven of them had gone by and day had turned to night. Though it was warm where Harry and Draco were (thanks to a heating charm Harry had placed on a few stone fragments) they could not sleep. They sat still, having talked themselves into silence, fearing still that that any moment the ceiling would come crashing down on them.

"This is stupid, want something to read?" Draco asked Harry eventually, breaking the silence.

"Sure, what have you got?" Harry inquired curiously.

"Just a couple career pamphlets, but they're better than nothing aren't they?" drawled Draco, pulling the pamphlets out of his pocket. "Let's see ... I've got one on Healing, the Ministry, and Muggle relations. Can't imagine you want the last one though ... considering what you've said of your relatives."

"Yeah ... Any others?" Harry said. "None of those really interest me."

"Well, one on careers in Herbology, but that one is mine," Draco told Harry. "How 'bout healing?"

"Alright," Harry shrugged, taking the heavy pamphlet and opened to the first page.

As Harry read, he found that the pamphlet was mostly about the types of healing that were applied at St. Mungo's, the wizarding hospital. It was difficult to pay attention however, for all he could think about was whether or not he would get out of the place he was in. He hadn't realised he'd fallen asleep halfway through the booklet. Draco had drifted off as well.

***

"Draco, Harry, are you in there?" a familiar voice rang through the rock. It was Severus, and his voice shook Harry out of his slumber, though he was slow to move. 

"Yeah, we're ok!" Draco replied gleefully, having been awake for a while already. "Harry, wake up, they've found us!"

"Help is on the way!" Severus yelled through the cracks. "It may take some time to get you two out. I have to go alert Albus, I'll be right back, okay boys?"

Harry opened his eyes, he was sure he was imagining it. So he looked at Draco, who grinned at him. Harry grinned back, it was real.

"See you soon!" Harry shouted as loud as he dared. Footsteps could be heard racing away from them, through the corridor.

"Now we wait," Draco said heavily.

Unable to stand the anticipation and tension, Harry picked up the pamphlet on St. Mungo's he'd been reading before he fell asleep. He thumbed through it and found his place: the section describing the wards and which areas one could specialize in if one chose healing as a career. It wasn't overly interesting. Though a few wards caught his eye. For example, he recognized the name of the one Mr. Weasley had been in. But that wasn't the only one he recognized. There was a name, which he was sure he'd heard before. The pamphlet said it specialized in long term care, specifically comatose patients and those who needed extensive therapy. Harry put down the pamphlet and glanced at thier dying light source.

The small candle Draco had found in the rubble finally went out, and outside he could hear that Severus had brought back the rest of the teachers to help. In the darkness he could hear Draco beside him shouting out their predicament, and describing where the rocks had fallen. Voices filtered through the stone, alerting the boys to the teachers' plan: they were going to reinforce the area holding up the ceiling and make a small tunnel through beside the tower of rock. But Harry paid little attention to this, for he was suddenly pre-occupied with where he had heard of that name before, and sat quietly as the rescue effort progressed. It bothered him, Atta Letromier ... that was the name of the ward. Where had he heard it? Like a lightning bolt it hit him. The dream he'd had. Something clicked within him.

Scraping and clattering noises could be heard as the teachers worked.

Darkness clouded Harry's eyes. The room in he'd entered in his dream, it had had wood panneling. The older St. Mungo's wards had wood paneling. Harry recalled the wording in the pamphlet: The Atta Letromier Ward: for rehabilitation, long term care ...

A crack of light appeared as the rocks shifted.

And comatose patients.

Harry and Draco blinked in the sudden light as Severus pushed the final rock out of the tunnel.

The answer had come.

He was in a coma, and Snape was helping him wake up.

Harry blinked stupidly in the teachers' wandlight, which was shining through the tunnel they had made. He vaguely became aware of Severus pulling both Draco and himself to their feet and brushing the dust off them, on his face an expression that spoke of worry, relief, and anger at the same time. Severus was saying something, but Harry could barely hear through the mist that had gathered within his mind.

"Harry, are you alright?" echoed Severus' voice strangely as Draco was helped out the small tunnel by Professor McGonagall.

Velvety blackness was gathering at the edges of Harry's mind and the world swam before him. He felt the ground waver beneath his feet, and the St. Mungo's pamphlet fall the the floor. And then he fainted.

Severus caught Harry as he fell, picking him up and carrying out the small tunnel and into the torch lit corridor, knowing that Harry had gotten the message at last.

"Harry, wake up," came a gentle voice. "That's it, easy now."

Harry started to sit up, but a hand made him lie back down again.

"You've had quite a shock, best take it slow," said the shimmering form beside Harry.

Harry blinked, wondering how he got in bed in the hospital wing. He looked to the man sitting by his bed, and was relieved to see it was Severus.

"You were out for some time," he commented, looking rather relieved himself.

"What happened?" Harry asked, a bit confused.

"You fainted while we were rescuing you and Draco from the collapse," supplied Snape.

"Oh, yeah."

"You figured it out didn't you," Severus said heavily, looking upon Harry solomnly.

"I'm in a coma aren't I?" Harry whispered, tears in his eyes. Severus nodded slowly. "Why?'

"I don't know why," Severus said, hesitantly taking Harry's hand and giving it a quick squeeze. "But I know that you must find a way to wake up."

"Why couldn't you tell me?'

"The news would have been a bit too much to take all at once, and you might have fallen deeper into your coma. It wasn't worth the risk."

Harry nodded, it was some time before he spoke again.

"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"If I'm in a coma, everything that's happened isn't real is it?"

"Your mind has fabricated much of what has happened, if that is what you mean."

"And Ron and Hermione, and the Ginny here, they aren't real either."

"They are not. Once again, your subconscious has created them from what you recall."

"Does that mean you're not really here? That you're just a figment of my imagination too?" Harry said after a moment, sounding almost fearful.

Severus paused a moment, looking thoughtful before he replied: "What does your heart tell you Harry?"

"Well ... That you're real, but that wouldn't make sense."

"Often what is thought out and reasoned with the mind is not entirely correct. But follow your heart Harry, and it will never lead you astray," Severus told him wisely.

"You sound like Dumbledore," Harry said, astonished.

"You can't possibly believe I made that up myself Harry?" smirked Severus. "Albus told me that once."

"Why did he tell you that?" Harry asked curiously, energy returning to him.

"Because I was being a moron," Severus said a little shortly.

Harry wished very much to ask what Severus had been being a moron about but was smart enough not to.

"Are you feeling better now?" asked Severus.

"Yeah," Harry told him, sensing a change of subject. "But how will I, well, wake up?"

"I have theories, and some knowledge on the matter," Severus began. "It will take a long time to explain ..."

"I'm listening," Harry assured him.

"I know, but I would prefer if Poppy couldn't overhear," clarified Snape, glancing over at the matron, who had recently bustled in and bestowed a rather stormy look upon Severus all the while muttering about rude behaviour; it was clear he hadn't asked to come in to visit Harry. "Why don't you get some rest and come by my quarters this evening so we can discuss it?"

"Alright," Harry sighed. "Do I have to stay here, or can I go back to my dorm?"

"Why don't you ask Poppy?"

"No, absolutely not Mr. Potter, you are staying here!" said the Madam Pomfrey sharply as she walked over to them. "You've been through a terrible ordeal."

"But Madam Pomfrey-" began Harry, distraught.

"See you this evening Harry, and do try to listen to Poppy," Snape said, rolling his eyes at Harry's grouchy expression and ignoring the scathing comment shot at him by the matron concerning his own listening skills.

***

When Harry had finally been released from beneath the watchful gaze of Madam Pomfrey and finished supper, he made his way down to Snape's quarters. It had taken some time to convince Ron and Hermione that he had to go finish an essay in the library so that they would return to the common room rather than follow him. Thankfully however, Hermione had believed his homework story and they let him be.

"Well that's good, some color's returned," Severus said, scrutinizing Harry's appearance as he made him sit down.

"I'm ready for that explanation you were talking about," said Harry impatiently, clearly wanting to get to the bottom of things. "Can you finally tell me why I was sleepwalking all the way to the forest?"

"Yes," Severus said. And he began.

It took a long time for Severus to list of the numerous theories and facts that he had gathered from sources he wouldn't say. According to him, people who fell in to a coma generally had an area in their dream-world called a "waking point' which allowed them to return to reality and wake up, the problem was finding it. Severus believed that this was why Harry had been sleepwalking, and that his waking point was somewhere near that stream in the Forbidden Forest. The thing Severus didn't understand, was why the waking point wasn't open for Harry the other day, and why he had stopped sleepwalking to it since that night at the stream.

"Well, could the ... Portal thing have been closed because I didn't know I was in a coma?" inquired Harry once Severus had talked himself into silence.

"Interesting theory," muttered Severus. "While I don't think that is quite the case" -he rubbed his nose thoughtfully- "I think it merits another trip down there, this time with you awake. Perhaps you were merely sleepwalking down there in to find your waking point so you know where it is when it opens."

"I'm okay with going back, but you don't think the aches will keep getting worse, do you?"

"I do not know. I had thought that the pain was increasing as you were getting closer to your destination, your reality that is, seeing as the pain most likely comes from the injuries you have sustained in the real world. But now that you have stopped sleepwalking, and you have not experienced any aches, even near the grounds,  I have begun to wonder whether or not ... You are slipping deeper."

"Maybe I'm just healing, in ... the real world I guess." Harry suggested hopefully.

"It shouldn't have been so sudden though ... the pain to leave in a day like that," Severus frowned, eyebrows knitted. "Are you sure you have not felt any pain since the night you reached the stream?"

"Yeah, positive." Harry said.

"Peculiar," said Severus. "Now, I suppose you have a few questions?"

"Loads."

"Fire away then."

"First off, you know how I said I have been remembering two things at once lately, of the same day or event. Like how I can remember going to the Burrow this Christmas and staying at Hogwarts?" began Harry.

"Yes."

"Those memories are real right? The ones that seem older I mean, like the Burrow."

"Yes, it is the recent memories that have been fabricated Harry," responded Severus.

"Why am I remembering them now, why not before?'

"Well, there has now been more time for things to trigger your memory. That is probably why it didn't start right away. Now, if I remember correctly, you told me earlier in the year that you have had similar episodes like this, but of memories that do not overlap with others?"

"Yeah, like the one where Hogwarts was all wrecked," Harry informed him.

"I think you are slowly gaining back some of the stronger memories you have temporarily buried, good and bad."

"I'm fine with the good ones ... But that day when Ginny appeared again and I saw in my head how Hogwarts was all ruined and the grounds were covered i-in ..." Harry rambled, eyes widening and voice growing fainter as he tried to express the horror he had recalled. "Severus, there were dead bodies ... Everywere. Please, that can't be a memory, can it?" he pleaded.

Severus' look gave the answer. "What all did you see?"

"Ginny ... She was kneeling next to a girl, and people were carrying away the dead in the distance," he whispered heavily. "I don't remember why it was happening, but everything just felt hopeless. I wish I could forget it."

"There are many who feel the same way Harry, you are not alone."

They were silent for a few minutes.

"Do you have any more questions?" Severus asked eventually, glancing at the clock.

"Yeah actually," he began, pushing his thoughts aside. "If I'm creating this place in my mind, how come I can't control things better? Why couldn't I have just wished for the secret passage not to cave in on Draco and I?"

"I am afraid it isn't that easy Harry," chuckled Severus. "Besides, everything happens for a reason. Any more questions?"

"No, I don't think so." Harry said, pondering Severus' reply.

"Alright but if you have any others don't hesitate to ask," Severus said before making as suggestion. "Before you go to bed, what do you think of going down to the stream tomorrow night? Seeing as you look awfully tired and today has been eventful enough. Besides, you have school tomorrow."

"Okay," Harry said, stifling a yawn. "As for school, at this point there doesn't seem to be much point in going to class ..."

"You will go regardless of what is happening to you." Severus said sharply. "You never know what you might miss if you don't go."

"You sounded just like Mrs. Weasley for a second," Harry grinned "Better watch it or you'll end up wearing flowery aprons and bothering me to eat more."

"Very funny. Now get to bed before I drag you there myself," Severus threatened, pointing to the door, which Harry reluctantly dragged his feet toward.

"Thanks for answering my questions," Harry called toward the Potions Master, who nodded in reply and sunk down into his favorite armchair. Harry proceeded to open the door and step outside.

"You know, I'm almost getting to like having that brat around," muttered Severus, sounding slightly disgusted with himself.

"I heard that!"

And with the slam of the door shutting Severus burst into peals of laughter.

"Severus, the portal thing is obviously not open. Again. Can I go to bed now?" Harry moaned, shivering in the cool air and pulling his cloak tighter around him.

"Give me one more minute," Severus muttered, still staring at the forest stream the way he had been for the past ten minutes.

"Alright," Harry sighed, digging the end of his trainer into the partially frozen ground.

Much of the snow had melted already, there hadn't been any for ages. Severus said it was a dry year, which in Harry's opinion was just as well considering he had to trek out to the forest so often. Harry would have been perfectly happy just to go down to the stream once after he had realised he was in a coma, but no, Severus was convinced it would open soon. So, this was their fourth trip out and still Harry did not feel anything remotely painful like when he had been sleepwalking. He began to dig the toe of his other trainer into the ground, only to find his leg had gone suddenly stiff.

"Severus, my legs are getting stiff, can we please go?"

"Alright ..." Severus frowned, pulling his eyes away from the stream.

"Do you really think the waking point will just open up one night?" Harry asked.

"I am really not sure, but I would hate for you to miss your chance," Severus told Harry, sounding slightly impatient as they made their way across the moonlit grounds and into the castle.

"Ahh, caught a pesky student wandering about, did you Severus?" came the rough voice of Argus Filch, the caretaker as he moved out of the shadows and began to follow the pair through the entrance hall. "What was the foolish brat up to this time?'

"That is none of your business Argus, unless you care to be hexed," hissed Severus, looking menacing in the dim light of the entrance hall.

"I was merely wondering if you required my assistance in ... punishment," Argus said coolly, displayed a row of crooked teeth. "As you know, I have a few things in my office that could keep the brat in line, Dumbledore need not know ...." Argus glanced over at Harry. "I'd wager you wouldn't object to Potter being out of your hair."

"Actually Argus, what I most desire is for you to be out of my hair," he growled back.

"Fine," snapped Filch, stalking away muttering that Severus was missing out.

"Sadistic creep," grimaced Severus.

"Yeah, can't say I like him much either ..." Harry said. "Has he always been this creepy?"

"Oh yes, he was here while I was at school and was just as much a bastard as he his now. Used to threaten us all with the usual 'you'll find yourself bound in chains from the ankles to your neck and hanging from the ceiling' bit. Of course, he hasn't used that one since I asked him if he chained students up because he couldn't find a woman to agree to instead," snickered Severus. "Shut him up quite nicely, course I got detention for a week ..."

"You actually said that?" Harry laughed incredulously. Severus nodded. "How old were you?"

"Seventeen," replied Severus. "Unfortunately I was both foolish and horrible at holding my tongue back then, probably would have saved me many nights of polishing floors and scrubbing cauldrons."

"He made you scrub cauldrons?" Harry snickered. "Is that why you leave so many of them for students to wash during detentions?"

"Yes actually, I certainly did more than my fair share while I was at school," Severus muttered unhappily, massaging his knuckles gingerly as though recalling the number of times they had been worked raw. "Filch thought it was especially funny considering I enjoyed potions so much, thought he'd try to take the joy out of my favourite subject."

"And you complain when I can't hold my tongue," Harry muttered rather bitterly after a moment or two.

"I suppose I forget sometimes what it is like to be young," he said thoughtfully. "Up until tonight it appears that I had forgotten what a, well, hellion I was when I was your age ... You have more sense than I had though, in some ways."

"What do I have more sense in?"

"Well, you have your priorities straight. You haven't let the past eat you up,"

"And you did?"

"I learned a few things too late, we'll just put it that way," Severus replied, sounding tired suddenly. "Here's your common room, better get some rest."

"Yeah, I guess so. G'night Severus."

"Goodnight Harry."

Harry entered the common room, which was empty. Considering it was eleven-o-clock on a Thursday night, Harry wasn't all that surprised. He was however surprised to find a note tied to the leg of large eagle owl, which was shuffling its feet upon his trunk. Harry was sure the sound of its talons clicking on the wood would wake the dead, and so me made quick work of untying the piece of parchment. It was from Draco.

Harry,

Care to go flying with me tonight around eleven-thirty or so? I know you're probably thinking it would be crazy to go down to the Quidditch pitch on a night with the moon so bright; that's what I was thinking too, which is why I have a better idea. Bring your broom and meet me in the big storage cupboard on the seventh floor, the one with the scorch marks on it. Send my owl back with your answer. And yes, I know we have school tomorrow but this way it's more likely that fewer teachers will be patrolling. Hope to see you soon.

- Draco

A part of Harry really wanted to go, but another part told him that it was not only really stupid to be wandering off in the middle of the night, but that he shouldn't be so trusting of Draco. Then again, if Draco had really wanted him gone he would have just let him get crushed. Not to mention he had the invisibility cloak, and the Marauder's Map. But it was still risky. He glanced over to Ron, who was sound asleep in his bed, the rest of his dorm mates were as well. Harry fidgeted a moment, staring at Draco's owl. At last, making up his mind, he grabbed a quill and scribbled his repy.

See you at eleven thirty.

***

Harry ducked behind a suit of armour to avoid getting caught by Filch, who had come around the corner and proceeded to wheeze and grumble about Peeves all the way down the narrow corridor. Once he had disappeared from sight, Harry shuffled his broom in his hand and checked the Marauder's Map to make sure he had gone for sure. But he became distracted, and instead of finding Filch, he caught sight of a little dot labelled Severus Snape, pacing away in the dungeons. Harry felt a surge of guilt. This was stupid. If he got caught or hurt ... Severus would be terribly disappointed. Somehow the threat of scrubbing cauldrons and disembowelling toads had never really managed to make him feel remorse for what he had done. But now, Harry didn't think he could bear the look of disappointment from Severus, it was far worse than a scowl or an angry remark. He was quite tempted to go back, forgetting how near he was to his goal until he saw Draco up ahead. Harry watched as he slipped out of the shadows, broom over his shoulder as he crept into the supply cupboard to wait.

Excitement overtook guilt, forgetting both Filch and Snape Harry folded the map and put it in his pocket. This would be a lot of fun.

"Psst, Draco, it's me!" Harry whispered, opening the cupboard door and slipping in.

"Are you wearing your invisibility cloak or something?" Draco said, looking in the wrong direction.

"Yeah, where are we going?"

"Follow me," Draco whispered back.

"Get under the cloak first," Harry told him, lifting up the edge for Draco to get under. "We'll have to duck a bit to keep our ankles from showing."

The two snuck down the corridor, Draco stopped near a tapestry, grinning like an idiot. Harry recognised the tapestry immediately: this was where the Room of Requirement was. Throwing caution to the winds, Draco stepped out from under the cloak and walked back and forth in front of the stone wall three times, yanking the door handle open as soon as it appeared and slipping inside.

"Wow," whispered Harry, pulling the cloak off and stuffing it in his pocket. "Brilliant."

Before Harry's eyes lay an enormous room with an extremely high ceiling which, like the Great Hall, was charmed to look like the sky. Unlike the Great Hall however, it was not night. It was daytime here. The light from the charmed sun illuminated the Quidditch pitch spread out before them. The ground was made of some sort of artificial grass. Harry supposed that the room could not create real grass due to magical restrictions. Nevertheless, the Quidditch pitch was quite complete, the three golden hoops on both ends included. A crate of balls was set to one side as well, along with a rack of broomsticks, though none as impressive as Harry or Draco's.

"Wicked, isn't it?" Draco said to Harry. "I found it the other day when I wandering about, must have been thinking of Quidditch, because when I opened the door, this is what I found."

"Well, come on!" Harry said, leaping onto his broomstick and taking off like a rocket.

For a long time the two just enjoyed being able to fly at such an hour and in such a grand room, but after a while Draco pulled out a Snitch from the crate of balls.

"Let's see who gets it first," Draco told Harry, throwing the little golden ball into the air and watching as it spread it's feathery wings and sped away.

They gave the Snitch some time to get away, but soon began the search. Time progressed, bringing along two marvellous catches by Harry, and one by Draco. It was growing later, but the boys were too busy having fun to notice the time, each looking forward to the moment when they would once more see a flash of gold flutter before their eyes.

"Come on ... almost!" Harry said, pulling out of a dive and getting ready to swipe the Snitch out of the air, beside him Draco attempting the same. "Oh no."

Harry stopped accelerating, and sat on his broom as still as a statue, hovering twenty feet in the air and staring in the direction of the doorway. Ahead Draco had captured the Snitch, but his cry of triumph died in his throat as he caught sight of what Harry saw.

Severus Snape was standing in front of the door, arms crossed and looking murderous.

"Oh shit ..." gulped Draco.

Harry was unable to speak; he felt like he was falling, though he hadn't moved an inch. Draco had gone as white as the fluffy clouds that still drifted across the enchanted sky. He glanced over at Harry with the expression of someone who was about to meet their death.

Severus stiffly pointed to the ground, stony expression not shifting a bit. Meekly, the boys complied, both without the heart to even wish they had stayed in bed.

They landed, all the excitement of the escapade long gone, having been replaced with what felt like a cold, heavy lead weight pressing in on their chests. Harry couldn't bear to look at Severus, and see his disappointed face. He wished Severus would say something, but he remained painfully silent. Harry could feel tears prickling his eyes as he examined the artificial grass beneath his feet.

"Come," Severus said, voice cold as ice.

Harry and Draco followed blindly, not knowing where they were being taken, hardly caring. After a few minutes of walking, Harry heard Draco sniffle quietly beside him. With a jolt he remembered hearing that Severus was Draco's godfather, surely this was worse for him.

Why, why didn't I turn back when he still could? Harry asked himself this question over and over as numbness and guilt washed over him in great waves. Why couldn't it have been Filch to catch them, or McGonagall even?

Severus halted suddenly, they were at his office. He opened the door expectantly. Harry glanced up at him momentarily, but looked away when he saw the look on Severus' face; a look that suggested that Harry had caused him all the disappointment in the world.

Severus moved behind his desk, but remained standing. Before him, stood Harry and Draco, brooms still in hand.

"I am not going to lecture you on what you have done, which was very foolish. You know what you did wrong, you know that you should not have done it," Severus said in a voice that was barely above a whisper, but could be heard in the deathly silence of the room. "Right now, I would like the both of you to hand over you broomsticks to me, and Potter,'-Harry flinched- "your invisibility cloak and map."

They didn't hesitate.

"Because I would like to get some sleep tonight, and I do not feel that you deserve any more of my time right now anyway, we will discuss your punishment tomorrow," drawled Severus, letting the sentence hang in the air a moment before proceeding. "You will come to my office immediately after classes; do not bother dropping off your books. Am I clear?"

The two nodded, finding it hard to speak.

"Am I clear?" repeated Severus, voice dangerously quiet.

"Yes sir," they choked.

"Potter, you will stay here while I escort Mr. Malfoy to his dormitory, I will be back for you shortly," and with that he swept out of the room, Draco behind him, still clutching the Snitch.

Harry wished he would have yelled at them, for this had been far worse: the quiet voice, the disappointment in his eyes. And calling him Potter. That was the worst. Severus saying they didn't deserve his time ... he was right too. Or at least Harry though so, his mind racing in the silence of the office.

It was agony, waiting for Severus to return, standing stock still in the middle of his office, the place where he had come so often this year to seek comfort or reassurance. But this place held no comfort for him now, painfully recalling the time he'd spent here with Severus, who had been like a friend. Well, more than a friend, someone who looked out for him actually gave a damn about him. But that's all gone now, Harry lamented, all because of one stupid act. He hated himself to the very core of his being for making one of the few people who actually cared about him so disappointed. Harry couldn't blame Severus if he hated him from now on. He deserved it didn't he?

The door creaked open, Severus stood there. Harry walked over to him, and the two set off down the silent corridors and up stairs.

It was a long walk to Gryffindor tower, and all they way they were silent. Harry tried to apologise a few times, but every time he opened his mouth he couldn't make a sound. After a while he felt it was no use anyway, and apology was not going to stop Severus from hating his guts if he wanted to. He immerged from his thoughts when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Harry didn't move, he stood, looking down at the cracks in the stone floor, Severus facing him.

"So this is how you repay me."

Harry looked up into Severus' eyes, the tone in his voice hurt terribly. He still could not speak to say he was sorry. Tears stung at his eyes once more, and he looked away.

Severus muttered the password, and the portrait swung open with a dull moan.

"Get to bed," he told Harry, who numbly stepped through the portrait hole, glancing back just as the painting shut behind him.

Harry didn't sleep that night.

"Whassamatter 'Arry?" Ron said thickly through a mouthful of eggs and toast the next morning, getsturing to Harry's untouched breakfast.

"Nothing Ron, I er ... think I'm coming down with something," he lied, looking at his oatmeal with a rather green face.

"Perhaps you should go see Pomfrey," Hermione suggested mildly overtop a book.

"Nah, I'm sure it will pass," Harry told her, though he highly doubted that he'd feel much better throughout the day.

Harry glanced over to the Slytherin table briefly, and was not surprised to see that Draco was stirring his breakfast around nervously as well. He glanced up and looked at Harry, shooting him an apologetic look. Harry shrugged and turned back to Ron and Hermione, who were discussing Ron's eating habits once again.

The morning passed by very slowly, each minute Harry getting more nervous and worried about what Severus would do to punish him. But the main cause to his anxiety however, was wondering if Severus wouldn't just go back to treating him how he used to. The prospect of going back to how things were made him feel positively sick to his stomach. He'd really grown to trust and respect Severus, and even enjoy his company. Not to mention, without Severus' help he wondered if he could even escape the coma he was in, and the thought was terrifying. Where would he go if he didn't wake up? Would he be stuck here forever? Not that it was too bad, but his friends were too predictable for his liking, seeing as they were a projection of his memories and not entirely real.

"Mr. Potter pay attention!" barked Professor McGonagall, effectively wrenching Harry out of his thoughts and back to the turtle he was supposed to be transfiguring.

This was not one of his better days.

When the morning had finally passed and lunch rolled around, Harry's stomach had begun to do flip-flops. The more time went by, the more convinced Harry was that Severus would go back to hating his, rather queasy, guts. It was worrying him so much that he had just about thrown up during charms, it was lucky that Seamus had accidentally lit his textbook on fire, which sufficiently distracted Harry from the thoughts that were causing his anxiety. But now as he stood near the entrance of the Great Hall, the smell of the food was about enough to start his stomach churning again. Not to mention he wasn't too keen on joining his friends, who would surely force him to eat. He was thankful he at least had the choice to go into the Great Hall on his own (Ron and Hermione had gone ahead while he helped Seamus get rid of some of the scorch marks on his desk). If he'd been with them, Hermione would surely have dragged him in and forced some lunch into him. But, after much contemplation, Harry decided that he'd go in for a while, perhaps have a glass of juice or something, for being along with his thoughts was not something he wished to experience either. So Harry poked his head around the corner of the door, catching sight of the staff table as he did so. Severus was sitting up there, and he was looking right at Harry. All thoughts of joining his friends left his brain, leaving nothing but a pit of squirming worries in his belly.

"Oh God ..." gulped Harry as his stomach did another large flop, ultimately resulting in him making a mad dash for the bathroom.

Harry doubled over, gripping the sink tightly with shaking hands as he felt stomach acid clawing at his stomach lining. Nausea swept over him as he remembered the look on Severus' face last night, when he called him Potter. What if he hates me forever, what if I die in this coma? he thought, panic rising within him. All of the anxiety was too much for his stomach to take, and he began to retch. But there was precious little in his stomach, almost nothing. He let a small sob escape, glad that the bathroom was empty. Or so he thought.

"There you are ..." came a voice from the door.

Harry retched again, trying not to give in to tears as Severus approached him.

"Leave me alone," whispered Harry, giving another heave.

"Harry," Severus said softly, reaching an arm up to rest his hand on the sick boy's shoulder. He flinched.

"I'm so s-sorry ..." Harry choked, a tear trickling down his cheek.

"I know you are," Severus told him gruffly. "I didn't realise making you wait to receive your punishment would be this hard on you ..."

"Can't you j-just tell me now?" asked Harry weakly, still not looking him in the eye.

"This was your punishment Harry, having to wait and wonder what it was," Severus told him, his hand still resting gently on his shoulder; it seemed to calm him slightly. "I was planning on telling you and Draco when you came to my office. I use this technique sometimes to get students to think about what they've done. I suppose I should have taken into account the stress you've gone through lately ..."

Harry nodded slowly, trying to get his legs to quit shaking.

"D-do you hate me now?" he whispered after a while of battling his queasy stomach, wondering why Severus was being so nice.

"Is that what's bothering you most?" he asked heavily.

Harry nodded once more.

"No, I do not. I am merely disappointed at your lack of thinking," he said rather bluntly. Harry retched again, causing Severus to proceed a bit more carefully. "I felt betrayed. Here I had been working so hard to help you and you went and disobeyed me and put yourself in danger. What would have happened if another teacher caught you, and you ended up in detention the night you were given a chance to wake up from your coma? Or if you had injured yourself flying unsupervised and driven your mind deeper in?"-Severus shuddered slightly- "Do you see now why I was so upset at what you and Draco did?"

"Yeah ... I do," Harry muttered, for the first time looking up at Severus, who looked concerned. "So, you don't hate me again right? You're still going to help me"

"I don't hate you Harry, and I will," Severus replied, "How are you feeling?"

"Bit better ..." Harry said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Tired."

"I don't imagine you got a lot of sleep last night."

"No," Harry said truthfully, takinga deep breath. "I'm sorry I disappointed you so badly, I really screwed up didn't I?"

"Yes, you did, but I've done just as much screwing up, if not more," Severus replied, conjuring a glass and filling it for Harry to rinse his mouth.

"Thanks," Harry told him, not just for the glass of water though. Severus seemed to know this.

"Do you think you'll be well enough by this afternoon?" inquired Severus, "After all, wouldn't want you throwing up all over my spotless classroom now, would we?"

"Yeah, I think so," Harry said, corners of his mouth twitching. "Do I still have to come down to your office after classes then?"

"No, you can go back to Gryffindor tower."

"Okay."

"I must return to the Great Hall, Harry," Severus informed him apologetically. "Minerva still hasn't finished interrogating me on why you look out of sorts. She suspects it's entirely my fault, and they say I like to stick my nose in everyone's business ... For a projection of your subconscious she can be a right pain."

Harry grinned as Snape swept out of the room, robes billowing behind him.

He gave his face a quick wash and left as well, feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. Compared to earlier, he felt light as a feather. Harry's stomach grumbled loudly, and he thought for a moment that it might be hunger contributing to such a feathery feeling. Suddenly ravenous, the prospect of joining his friends for lunch seemed far more inviting than before. And so he left to do just that, thinking that his day was going to turn out pretty good after all. Little did he know that something that very afternoon would make him reconsider his last thought, but for the moment, he hadn't a care in the world.

Defense Against the Dark Arts had turned out to be a lot of fun with Snape as a teacher (thought few students would admit it), mainly because the majority of class time was practical. That afternoon found the sixth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws once again practicing non-verbal spells, which they had been working on every Friday since the beginning of the year. This Harry enjoyed a lot, considering he had improved at non-verbal spells significantly in the past few weeks. Compared to how Harry had been feeling earlier in the day, he felt spectacular, and, after a big lunch he was quite glad to throw himself headfirst into the course material.

"Gryffindors line up across the wall behind me, Ravenclaws the wall opposite," ordered Severus, moving the desks aside with a sweep of his wand.

Noise erupted immediately as the students made their way to the appropriate wall. Silence quickly resumed however, as the students returned their attention to Professor Snape.

"Today you will be duelling," he drawled, pacing across the empty floor at the center of the classroom. "Your objective is to disarm your opponent, nothing more. You are required to use non-verbal spells. Say a spell aloud and you will be disqualified. Any questions?"

The class shuffled and looked about the room, nobody raised their hand.

"Good," Severus said, "Longbottom and Patil, you are up."

Harry watched as his classmates went up, two by two. Some duels were longer than others, and some were abysmally short. Not one student tried to do more than disarm their opponent, something Harry was grateful of, remembering the duel that had taken place between he and Draco back in second year. He was extremely glad that Draco was no longer shooting snakes at him, and couldn't help but wonder what had caused him to change. Returning his thoughts to the duel, he recalled just how much he had hated Severus back them. It was sort of hard to believe. Harry turned his gaze toward Severus, who was watching the students carefully as they duelled. He had the strangest feeling that he'd forgotten something all of a sudden. The thought of the snake had brought it on, he supposed.

In an instant the classroom left Harry's eyes, as snippet of a memory overtook his sight. He was standing in the dark tunnel to Shrieking Shack, peering through a crack at a black boot, twitching upon the floor. Something dark was lying in a pool on the floor as well. In his mind he moved away the object that was obscuring his view. With a lurch in his stomach Harry realised that the liquid on the floor was blood. And the boot belonged to Severus. Flashes of what happened took over Harry, filling him with horror as he remembered what happened.

"Potter!" a voice barked, sounding far away.

Suddenly the images left his mind, and Harry was once again aware that he was standing in the classroom and that everyone was staring at him.

"It's your turn," Severus said, jerking his head toward the centre of the classroom, where another student was waiting for Harry to take his place.

Numbly, without feeling his feet move across the floor, Harry walked over and faced the Ravenclaw, his wand at the ready. But his mind was not. They bowed. Across from him the Ravenclaw swung his wand into position, and a jet of red light shot at Harry. Harry suddenly realised what was happening, just in time for the spell to hit him. His wand flew out of his hand and he was blasted back into the stone wall.

The class let out a collective gasp and Ron and Hermione dashed to help him up. Harry was still in a daze, not from the spell however.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione said from far off, waving her hand in front of his face as the bell rang overhead.

He didn't move or say anything as students filed out of the classroom, leaving Ron and Hermione the only students left besides him.

"It's all right Miss Granger, I can handle this," said Severus smoothly, shooing Harry's friends out of the classroom and shut the door, ignoring their protests.

"Harry, what is wrong?" asked Severus once they were gone, sounding worried as he made Harry sit down on a desk.

"You're dead," Harry whispered sadly, Severus froze.

"So you've remembered," Severus said eventually, taking a seat in a desk as well.

"It was Nagini that bit you, wasn't it?"

"Yes,"

"I think I was older than I am now ..." Harry said, "I'm not really sixteen am I?"

"Correct," Severus said, "I'm not really sure why your mind took you back to this year, but it did. Made it easier for me though ..."

"Is that why you're different than the others, because you're not really alive anymore? You've come back to help me ... haven't you?" Harry blurted out suddenly.

"Yes, call it my chance at redemption," he said softly. "It was your mother who suggested I come ..."

"Huh?" Harry asked, confused.

"Well, everybody has a ... for lack of a better word ... guardian angel out there. I guess I'm yours," Severus muttered rather uncomfortably, picking at the wood surface of the desk he sat in. "Your mother and father are looking out for you too, but Lily thought it would be better for me to come, she has her reasons I guess."

"Well, if Mum or Dad were here, I don't think I'd ever want to wake up ..." Harry told Severus softly.

"That's what she thought as well."

"So, when I wake up you won't be there," Harry whispered, "I was ... sort of hoping that I'd get to talk to you when I woke up. Guess I thought wrong."

"Yes, but I will be looking out for you regardless," Severus told him quietly.

"Thanks," Harry smiled.

"You're welcome, now go tell Granger and Weasley I haven't killed you, they are probably worried."

"Okay, see you Severus," Harry said, feeling almost as though he'd known all along. He glanced back at Severus once more before leaving and closing the door, not knowing what was taking place back in the classroom as he chatted with his friends.

~~

"Well done Saint Sev," laughed a young woman sitting in a desk nearby, green eyes dancing with light.

"Very funny Lily, now get out of here before someone sees you," Severus said, glancing at his friend and rolling his eyes as she faded from view once more. "What if he'd seen you? Would have ruined everything ..."

Somewhere nearby a man snorted in disagreement.

"If that was you James Potter you'd better stay invisible!" barked Severus grouchily.

"Aww take a bath Snape ..." the voice replied lightly.

Severus looked mutinous.

~~

"What was that?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione, turning to look back at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"What was what?" Hermione asked alarmed.

"Thought I heard something roar a moment earlier," Harry said as they walked down the corridor. "Whatever it was did not sound happy ..."

"Maybe Hagrid has a new pet," Ron suggested. "Another dragon?"

"Maybe," Harry shrugged, looking uncertain. "Ah, you're probably right ..."

      "Get up Harry!"

       Harry groaned, lying in his bed and trying to ignore the voice so that he might sleep a little longer. After such an eventful day he was completely drained of energy, and wished nothing more than to pull his pillow over his ears and go back to sleep. 

      "Harry!"

      "What?" he mumbled grumpily, glancing at his watch as Ron prodded him awake. "It's two in the morning ..."

      "Didn't you hear McGonagall's announcement?" Ron inquired, pulling his cloak on over his pyjamas and grabbing his wand.

      "No, what's going on?" Harry said, wide awake and wondering what was so urgent that Ron was awake at this time.

      "The Forbidden Forest caught fire somehow," Ron told him, "sixth and seventh years are supposed to come and help fight the fire."

      Harry got up and rushed to the window and gazed down upon the forest, horror engulfing him as he caught sight of black plumes of smoke swirling in the moonlit sky, flames dancing beneath them.

      "Come on!" Ron said urgently.

     "Right ..."

      Harry pulled on his cloak and grabbed his wand as well, jammed his feet into socks and shoes and ran down the stairs and into the bursting common room; it looked like just about the whole house was up. The younger years were looking out the windows with scared expressions on their face, being reassured by older siblings  and all the while students scrambled about, following McGonagall's instructions.

      "Seventh and sixth years, follow me," McGonagall said eventually. "Everyone else remain here until I return."

       "How'd the fire start?" a brave little first year asked McGonagall before she could leave.

      "We haven't figured that out yet," replied McGonagall. "We are concentrating on fighting it for the moment, now come!"

       Down staircases and through the castle they went, converging with the other houses as they made their way to the grounds. As they neared the doors the smell of smoke met their nostrils, growing thicker and thicker as Hagrid threw the great doors open to reveal the grounds. Leaking through the doors came a frightening light, a kind of flicker that inspired fear in the hearts of those facing it. Demonstrating their bravery, the Gryffindor house stepped forward first, followed by the Slytherins, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

      "Harry," Draco panted, catching up to the Gryffindors, oblivious of the people staring at him. "Do you know how it started?"

      "No, McGonagall didn't know either," Harry replied, coughing slightly in the smoke as the teachers organized their houses and gave instruction over the whistling roar of the fire, which was rapidly growing in the unusually dry air.

      As Harry looked around he saw that the grounds had crowded with people, students and residents of Hogsmead who had come, all hoping to help fight the inferno growing within the depths of the forest.  It appeared that those from Hogsmead had been fighting a while already. Somewhere down the way trees were being cleared for a firebreak and all sorts of magic was being used to subdue the flames. While this was happening the students were being brought by groups out to the firebreak, weaving around people at work. Harry was separated from Draco when the students split up into thier houses. 

      While parties of Hogsmead residents cleared underbrush and wood around them, the  teachers rapidly went from student to student, charming their clothing to repel heat. As they did this, the students were lined up and instructed to shoot water at the flames with their wands when brought further into the forest to fight the fire. They were using a variation of the charm Aguamenti, which had been designed to shoot water at a further distance. Though the charm was fairly easy to master, it was hard work bridging the distance from them to the fire and keeping the flow of water steady. Thankfully the groups were given a small rest in between, for the teachers rotated the lines back and forth so that they might renew the heat repelling charms and give students a break from the heat and smoke.  

     Harry was in the midst of falling back once more  when he heard her, calling out for him, a ways up the forested slope nearby, where the fire was quickly heading to.

      "HARRY!" screamed Ginny frantically.

      "GINNY! I'M COMING!" Harry shouted. And without giving it a second thought he turned away from the growing firebreak and darted out through rapidly catching underbrush.

       "NO!" Severus yelled as he led some Slytherins out for their turn, but it was too late, Harry was already in the forest.

      Severus flung himself forward and into the flames after Harry, who was still pursuing Ginny, and not quite aware that the fire was quickly pursuing him.

       Harry followed Ginny's voice far into the forest, until at once it stopped. And with it so did he, pausing to look around the trees and bushes for Ginny. He called out to her, wondering where she could have gone. Until, with a sickening clench of his stomach, he realised that she had been just like the one he'd heard before, the Ginny that he was hearing from far away. He thought fleetingly of her flaming red hair, which suddenly reminded him of the present. He turned around to glance at the trees behind him, afraid of what he'd see. What met his eyes was not reassuring at all, for through the layers of shimmering heat he could see the fire advancing, having gained a lot of ground since he had first broke away from his group.

      "KEEP RUNNING!" Severus shouted at Harry as he made a mad dash through the forest with the fire on his heels, ash swirling through the air like snow. 

      Harry waited for Severus to catch up and began to run as well. Just then a mad cackling sounded behind them. It was Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry's blood boiled, and he grinded to a halt on the forest floor, turning his head the direction he heard her, thinking of nobody but Sirius.

     "Harry, she was created in your mind, like the others. Run!" Severus told him, dragging the boy by the back of the cloak.

      To avoid being choked by his cloak, Harry moved his feet once more. All the while finding it hard not to turn around and curse everything in sight as Bellatrix's laughter rang through his head, sending shivers up his spine. But shivers were not only going up his spine,  but his left leg, for it had begun to tingle, and the further they ran the less he could feel of it.

     "Severus, I can barely feel my left leg!" Harry gasped, wide eyes reflecting the flames that followed them. Severus however, remained silent.

      They were gaining ground, for the wind had switched directions slightly, slowing the fire. But it was coming no matter what, and all they could do was find somewhere the fire could not get them. At least that was what Harry thought Severus was doing.

      "This way," Severus coughed, turning them to the left and going down a sharp hill.

      Harry's left foot caught a root, having become clumsy with numbness. He was sent rolling down the hill as Severus tried to avoid the same fate. The hill was steep and Harry reached the bottom in very little time. His head spun as he laid on the ground, which rocked to and fro beneath him as if the earth were perched upon a giant swing seat.

      "Get up Harry," Severus commanded sharply, having reached the bottom of the slope himself.

      "Dizzy ..." he mumbled.

      "There isn't time, get up!" Severus gasped, clutching a stitch in his side. "Look where we are!"

       Harry pulled himself to his feet, the world still spinning slightly. He gasped when he saw the stream that he had sleepwalked to, but it was very different than before. No longer just a stream, but now a spectacular sight.

       "That wasn't there before, was it?" he whispered as he stood up shakily, mesmerized by the image that met his eyes.

        "Yes, this is the way back, the waking point has opened."

       The stream was no longer a stream, for as Harry gazed upon it the opposite bank disappeared and the water became still, expanding far out into the horizon. A thick fog, quite unlike the smoke hanging in the air, drifted about the surface and blended the edges with the horizon. A small boat of weathered grey wood rested on the misty surface, tethered to the bank that Harry and Severus stood on by a short rope.      

      "Wow," Harry muttered. "It's amazing."

       "Yes, it is," Severus said, glancing behind them. "You must get in the boat, this is your chance to wake up."

       "How do I get across?" Harry wondered, noticing that there were no paddles.

       "You must concentrate on your destination," Severus told him, "and it will take you there."

      Distant laughter floated down the hill, sending shivers up Harry's spine. He turned to look up the slope. At the top of the hill orange light danced around the tree trunks, casting eerie shadows in the smoke, which had begun to pour over the rocks and slide toward them.

      "You must go Harry," Severus said urgently.

      "I-I wish I could stay with you ..." Harry muttered, thoughtfully fingering the pendant around his neck, the one that had belonged to his mother. "And Draco ... I never got to say goodbye."

       "I know, but you need to return to reality Harry, they need you back there."

       "I'll miss you," he whispered back.

       "I will miss you too," Severus said softly. "Though I will not be gone ... I may be out of sight, but that doesn't mean I am not there. Now go Harry ... Be brave, brave like your mother."

       "No," Harry murmered, "brave like you."

      Harry suddenly rushed forward, hugging Severus tightly. Severus' eyes widened in shock, but he did not pull away from the embrace, but returned it. After a while they pulled apart, Harry had tears in his eyes. Severus sighed slightly, before realizing what was behind them once more. Harry too became aware the smell of smoke was growing stronger in the air, and  of the dull roaring noise that could be heard once more.

      Severus leaped into action, pulled the end of the boat up onto shore and helped Harry into it, for his legs were giving him some trouble, his left in particular. Severus then untied the rope and handed it to him. But Harry did not push off.

       "Can't you come?" Harry asked, staring fearfully at the plume of smoke behind Severus.

       "Where you go I cannot follow," Severus told him gently. "I will be alrightt. The danger is all in your mind, it can not truly hurt me."     

"Severus," Harry began, but was cut off by more or Bellatrix's insane laughter from the trees, the sound rising above the steady roar of fire. 

       Harry fell silent for the orange glow had quite suddenly become brighter, and tongues of fire could be seen rising into the sky at the top of the hill. Burning sticks fell from the catching trees, tumbling down the hill and hissing on the cold damp ground by the stream. But still Harry did not move.

      "GO!" Severus shouted desperately, as sparks  rained down upon them.

      And so Harry rocked the boat, effectively working it loose from the bank and began his journey. He sat in the tiny vessel, facing what lay behind Severus,not knowing what lay ahead for himself. For the moment he did not care, for his heart filled with sorrow as he watched the forest burn, white ash raining down upon Severus, who stood on the bank, hand raised in farewell. It was true that every moment Harry sat, he concentrated on getting back, trusting in Severus' words, that he was needed by someone. But his heart ached at what he was leaving behind: his friendship with Draco and Severus and the ruins of the forest. With a lurch to his gut he thought of Hedwig. He was leaving her behind too, for as he drifted away from the forest, things began to return to him. Little details, here and there.

       The mist was closing in around him, but not in the suffocating way the smoke had. The fog seemed to clear his lungs, and make his heart grow stronger. As it thickened, it began to obscure the bank. And after a few more moments of silent drift, Harry was given his last glance of Severus standing by the water. With a flutter of his heart he realised that Severus did not stand alone. Two other people occupied the bank.

     His parents.

     Harry smiled sadly as the mist rolled across the water and the glow of the fire faded behind it, he carefully shifted in his seat to face the front of the boat. Whatever lay ahead was a mystery, just like the one that Severus had helped him solve.

      ***

     Harry didn't know how much time had passed as he drifted across the still water. Darkness changed to light and light to darkness so many times Harry could not count. The mist still had not parted, and as Harry went he saw shapes in the mist, reflections of his past that brought forth forgotten memories. Some were happy, some hurt. His heart clenched when he saw Fred Weasley fall, Percy shielding his body from harm. He relived his last glance at Ginny before going into the forest to die; Remus, Sirius and his parents' shadows among misty trees; the resurrection stone falling from his fingers; the flash of the Elder Wand in the hand of Voldemort. Memories came back as quickly as the boat coasted through the water, and slowly the years began to trickle back to him.

      Harry heard voices too, echoes of the people he loved, whether they were dead or alive. He heard Ginny the most, sometimes Molly Weasley or Ron and Hermione. He heard his father's voice a few times too, and though he couldn't quite make out what he said, just the sound was enough for him. It was very special when he heard his mother. He could only hear her when the water went dark and the mist shimmered in the night air, and it was then that she sang to him. Her sweet voice rose and fell, singing lullaby he had heard from her long ago, one Harry thought she must have sung when he was very young. In the darkness he would curl up in the bottom of the boat and fall asleep to the sound of her voice and the slight rocking beneath him, stars peeking in and out of the shifting fog.

      This went on for a long time, the drifting, day turning to night, shimmering stars and shifting fog and the sound of his mother's beautiful voice. Until one day, he was not in the boat, and the stars that were there before were not, and his mother's song could not be heard. But the voice of someone else could be.  

      "Harry, can you hear me?" said a voice nearby.

      Harry opened his eyes. He saw a mass of bushy hair by his bedside.

      "'Ermynee?" he said with difficulty as his eyes slid in and out of focus.

      "Get Ginny, he's responding!" she gasped excitedly to man near the doorway.

      "Ron?" Harry whispered hopefully, eyes catching sight of red hair.

     "Yeah mate, I'll be right back," Ron told him, sounding extremely relieved and rather reluctant to go.

      Harry didn't move for a minute, but began to wiggle his fingers and toes. They felt very tired, as though they had been quite still for some time. Harry reminded his sluggish brain that this was true, seeing as he must have been in bed for a while.

       "Why's my left leg so hard to move?" he asked hoarsely in sudden realization that both of his legs had varying degrees of numbness in places.

      "Oh Harry ... They fixed up most of your wounds pretty well, but they couldn't quite, couldn't ..." Hermione whispered tearfully. "Your left leg is partially p-paralyzed and your right is slightly impaired as well. The Healers said that you might be able to gain back more movement in them with therapy once you woke up from the coma ... "

      "Wha' happened?" Harry asked, horrified at the news of his legs.

      "Do you remember how you got here?"

      "No."

      "There was an attack," Hermione said, "in Diagon Alley and you were on duty, just doing a routine sweep of the area I think."

      "Duty?" Harry muttered.

      "Do you remember what your job is?"

      Harry paused a moment, thinking very hard of the things he'd seen in the mist.

       "Auror ..." he said slowly.

       "Yes, well done," Hermione congratulated him before continuing shakily. "Flourish and Blotts was attacked, some old Death Eaters wanted revenge for something. I don't really know what..."

        "And then?"

        "Well, the shop was just about blasted to pieces by the Death Eaters, you went in to help because the owner's family was in there. While you were in there the place collapsed, and you, you fell from the second floor ..."

        "Who's the owner?" Harry asked queasily, feeling he should know the answer.

        "Who was the owner actually, he died in the collapse," Hermione sniffled. "You saved his wife, and his son, barely five months."

        "Who Hermione?"

        "Draco Malfoy," she whispered, hesitating slightly.

        Harry felt as though he had the air knocked out of him. He then realized that that pamphlet Draco had given him on St. Mungos, was no mistake. Draco had come back to help him too, just like Severus had. Harry felt once more the pang of regret he had had during that final conversation with Severus; he hadn't gotten to say goodbye to Draco, nor had he thanked him for everything.

       "Hermione, he was there," Harry muttered, "Said he owed me, he helped me get back. Snape too."

       "Harry, you aren't making sense," Hermione whispered to him. "Malfoy and Snape couldn't have been with you, you were here all along. Besides, Snape is dead too."

       "Know that, figured it out the other day," Harry said, frustrated she didn't understand.

        "Harry!" said a strangled voice from the doorway.

        "Ginny," Harry said brightly, glancing at the doorway.

        "Hold on Ginny ..." Hermione said as she got up and pulled her aside.

         Harry listened as Hermione filled Ginny in on what he'd said and how his speech was and what to expect and such. While Hermione talked a Healer came over and started to ask him questions about how he felt and other silly ones like where he grew up and where he went to learn magic. The Healer then made him move his legs as much as he could and did a lot of wand waving, which Harry grew weary of. He was extremely relieved when the healer left, and Ginny came over.

   "Harry," she whispered, tears in her eyes as she drew him into a long hug. "I was so scared ..."

   "I was too ... I love you Ginny," he said. "Sorry I scared you, how long was I gone?"

   "Just about two weeks. You sort of started to wake up last week, but it was a slow process."

    "Two weeks ..." Harry muttered, it had felt like years when he was in the mist. But in a way it had been. So many years had returned to his memory while he drifted through the endless ocean of his mind.

   "Hermione was right, you are speaking well," Ginny said, sitting down in a chair by Harry's bed. "The Healers said you might end up with a speech impediment."

    "I guess not," Harry told her, sounding tired. "It's good to see you again."

    "How is your memory?" Ginny asked hesitantly.

    "I think there are parts missing, but think I remember most stuff," croaked Harry.

        "Do you remember our wedding?" Ginny whispered.

    "Er ... It was at the Burrow, Teddy was the ring bearer," Harry told her slowly, she sniffled slightly, a soft smile on her face.

    "A few people want to see you, can they come in?"

    "Sure,"

    "Great. You can come in now," Ginny called to the doorway, still smiling.

    A little black haired boy stuck his head around the corner. He looked a bit older than two. He glanced back at Ron who had been holding his hand. Ron nodded and nudged him into the room.

    "Daddy!" cried the boy, toddling around the corner and over to the bed.

    "James!" Harry said with a smile, Ginny looked relieved he remembered. "How could I forget you?"

     James climbed up onto the bed hugged his father, who hugged his little boy back as hard as he could. It was funny, for he had not seen memories of him in the mist, yet he remembered James in great detail.

     "You be okay Daddy?" James asked.

     "He will be in time," Ginny said confidently, ruffling the little boy's hair.

     "Harry!" Molly Weasley said as she walked toward the bed.

     "Hi Molly," Harry said, grinning at the little squirming bundle in her arms.

     "Hello dear, I am so glad you've woken up," she said, sitting down in the chair next to Ginny's.

      "Daddy get better!" James told Molly with excitement.

      "Albus, there you are," Harry said, remembering the little baby that poked his head out from his blanket.

      Albus smiled, two tiny teeth showing.  His big green eyes blinked up at Harry as he lifted his little arms toward him.

     "Daddy!" he squealed.

     "Oh!" Ginny gasped, "That was his first word Harry!"

     "It was?" Harry cried excitedly, "Well done Al!"

     "Yay Abus," James clapped his hands happily.

     Harry relaxed in his bed, exausted but happy. It was true that his legs might never be the same, and that walking would be harder than before. But he could still move them a bit, and he promised himself he would get better. Hermione had said it was possible, and if he could defeat Lord Voldemort he could do this too. All he needed was some determination and a little help from his friends. He would do it for Ginny, and for the two little boys that he loved so much. He suddenly realised why he had not seen memories of them in the mist: he hadn't needed to, for he had never forgotten them, they had been forever imprinted in his heart.

         "Aaa!" squealed Albus gleefully as he yanked at his father's hair.

     Harry winced, causing Ginny to burst out laughing.

     Despite the pain in his scalp, for Harry, everything felt right. It was good to be back.

       ***

     Harry's visitors had finally left him for the night. And after a long day of people coming and going, Harry was extremely glad he could rest at last. He didn't let the thought of his legs bother him, and didn't let himself regret not saying goodbye to Draco, for he would see him again some day. So, thinking nothing of the long journey he had made, he slowly rolled over onto his belly, tired and looking forward to a long sleep. After all, he could think about what had happened later. He was just about to close his eyes when he felt something hard beneath his chest. He pulled at it. A fine chain hung around his neck. Harry unclasped it and held it up in the dim light of the ward.

    His mother's necklace. 

    "Huh ..." was all he could say. 

   "Dad!" Albus moaned, standing in his father's office. "Can't I come with you and Scorpius?"

   "No, I don't think he would want you along for this," Harry told his son impatiently as he checked the floo.

    "But he's my friend Dad," Albus replied. "We're practically brothers. We've known each other since we were babies!"

     "No Albus," Harry said firmly. "You should head back to your common room now."

     Albus huffed grouchily, pulling a face so reminiscent of Ginny that Harry almost laughed.

     "Fine," Albus sighed, seeming to deflate when he saw that his father would not relent.

     "I'm sorry you cannot come Al," Harry replied softly, getting up to give his son a hug before he saw him out the door.

      Gazing at the door that had closed behind Al, Harry fingered the silver pendant around his neck, wondering where the years had gone. Unable to sit, he paced around his office. It looked slightly different than it had so many years ago, when it had belonged to Remus, and then Mad-Eye and Umbridge.  At the moment the walls were adorned with pictures. One was a graduation picture, and standing in the back row was a lanky teen. Harry marvelled at how much his godson had grown, and that the little baby who once had turquoise hair had left Hogwarts for good. He shook his head and gazed fondly over at the newest picture. In the magical photograph James stood, poking Albus in the ribs; Lily leaned against her father's arm;she'd always been Daddy's girl. But Ginny looked as beautiful as ever, Harry thought. He wondered briefly how they got through it all, those tough years after his accident. She had been so patient, and so encouraging. He doubted if he would ever have gained back as much movement in his legs as he had now if it hadn't been for her. They still were not in perfect shape, and it was true that he limped in his left leg and he was not as graceful as he once was, but he didn't mind.

     Harry smiled at another picture. It was of  him and a few of his old collegues back when he was an Auror. Harry always was a little bit sad about leaving, but he did enjoy his new job. He remembered the tearful night years ago when Ginny had made him promise to find a new job. There had been too many close calls with him working as an Auror, and the incident at Flourish and Blott's had been the last straw for her. Luckily however, when he was well enough to start work again there was an opening at Hogwarts, for the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. His appointment was met with much enthusiasm.

      In fact, it still amazed him how much the students liked his class. For it seemed that every year when the first years came out of his classroom it was nothing but Professor Potter said this and Professor Potter that. This year it had been Albus' friends who had been the excited first years, one of them Scorpius Malfoy. Harry had kept in touch with Draco's wife Astoria, who had soon struck up a wonderful friendship with Ginny. So, Scorpius had become fast friends with Albus.

      A knock on the door roused Harry from his thoughts.

     "Come in," he called.

     "'lo Professor Potter, you wanted see me?" Scorpius asked quietly.

     "Yes actually," Harry told him as the floo flared to life.

     "Hello Harry," said Astoria Malfoy, stepping out from the emerald flames.

     "Mum!" Scorpius exclaimed excitedly rushing forward to hug her. He pulled away quickly however, looking worried. "Hang, on ... am I in trouble?"

     "No, I have merely found something that will interest you both," Harry said vaguely. "We will have to go into the forest, I hope you brought something warm to wear."

     The two nodded.

    "Then let us go," Harry said, ushering them out the door.

      ***

     Through the snowy forest they walked, following a path that Harry had beaten well into the ground from years of travelling through the trees. It was a long way that they walked, but anticipation kept them from becoming weary. With each step Harry grew more and more excited, and apprehensive at the same time.

     It was a long time before Harry halted upon the edge of a clearing and  motioned for Scorpius and Astoria to stop as well. He then walked over to a tree, and reached into the hollow within it. Butterflies erupted in Harry's stomach, for this was it. After almost a decade of searching he finally had come to the moment he had dreamed of for years. His mitten emerged from the hollow, two small fragments of a stone encased in the wool.

     Harry had found the resurrection stone. He'd found it, buried under years of deadfall and leaves, right on the spot that he had dropped it so many years ago. It had taken years to find it, the spot where it all happened. But Harry had succeeded.

    "Come here," Harry told Astoria and Scorpius.

    "What is it?" Scorpius asked, staring down at the two pieces of stone in Harry's mitten, the mark of the hallows still scratched into the rock.

     "Is that ..." Astoria gasped, recognising the sign.

     Harry nodded, curious as to how she would know the sign. But Astoria answered his question before he could ask.

     "The Hallows, my Father studied them for years, tracing the path of the wand ... The cloak ... and the Stone."

     "Wand, cloak and Stone ..."  Scorpius muttered suddenly. "Not from the Tale of the Three Brothers?"

     "Yes," Harry said, "Each of you put a hand beneath mine."

    Harry hoped this would work, for he recalled the one time he had used the stone he could only see the people brought back. Perhaps this would allow them all to see.

     "Ready?" Harry asked, looking at Astoria.

     She nodded, pale face standing out from the darkened branches of the trees behind them.

     "Here goes ..." Harry muttered, turning the two pieces of the stone over three times, and concentrating on who he hoped to bring back.

     "Did it work?" Astoria asked, glancing around. Harry didn't answer, for behind Astoria stood precisely the people he wished to see.

     "Astoria ..." Draco whispered, staring at his widowed wife as though he had never seen her before.

     She whirled around, clearly seeing what Harry was.

     "Draco ..." she whispered, voice both joyful and sad at the same time.

     "Dad?" Scorpius asked, looking amazed. Draco nodded, smiling at his son.

     "Well, if nobody's going to acknowledge me I might as well leave," Severus scowled from beside Draco.

     "Severus," Harry said with a grin. "Been a while, hasn't it."

     "Not long enough ..." he rolled his eyes, but it was plain to be seen that he was happy to see Harry.

      Draco went out a ways to talk with his wife and son, leaving Harry and Severus alone. They stood in silence, while Draco talked with Scorpius, telling him how much he missed him.

     "I can't believe you named your son after me," Severus grimaced eventually, trying not to sound too flattered. "And that was before the whole coma fiasco ..."

     "Who said I named him after you?" Harry teased. "I merely liked the name, it is quite lovely you know."

     "Oh definitely," Severus scoffed, "and I'm the queen of England."

     "Now that's a picture ..." Harry snorted.

     "Indeed."  

     They paused in speaking a moment, watching as the small family not far from them interacted.

       "Severus," Harry began eventually, voicing the question he had wondered upon for so many years. "How did I end up with Mum's necklace, the one you gave me? Wasn't everything in my head?"

     "That is the question, isn't it?" Severus told Harry.

    "Quit being so cryptic, that was Dumbledore's job," Harry groaned. "Really though."

    "I'm afraid this is one of those things you just have to find out for yourself," Severus said, as spark in his eyes that Harry had never seen before.

     "Wow, thanks."

     Harry just shook his head, knowing the man would never give him a straight answer.

      Snow began to fall around them, silencing the sounds of the trees whispering and creaking in the wind. Severus glanced around the clearing, seemingly dwelling on what had happened so long ago.

     "Have I ever told you how brave you are?" Severus began, staring off into the distance.

     "No," Harry muttered.

     "You once told your son that I was the bravest man you ever knew," Severus continued.

     "How do you-"

     "I said I would be there Harry, did I not?"

     Harry blinked, astounded.

  "What I was getting to, is that you are the bravest man I ever knew."

   Harry looked at the man standing next to him, the silence of the forest thundering in his ears. Suddenly he found himself staring straight into Severus' black eyes, and discovered that they held a warmth that he had not seen before. They stood this way a few moments, not talking. Words did not seem like enough. Just then Draco and his family returned to them, both Astoria and Scorpius looking tearful.

     "Harry," Draco said gratefully, "thank you. I never got to say goodbye."

     "And neither did I," Harry told him. "Thank you for showing me that pamphlet. I dunno if I would have figured it out if you hadn't helped me."

      "It was nothing," Draco shrugged it off.

     "No, it wasn't," Harry said strongly, "you didn't have to be my friend in there, but you were anyway."

     "I never hated you," he croaked. "I just ... Maybe I was jealous, I dunno ..."

     "You've more than made up for it."

          "Harry, we should return soon," Severus interrupted, voice heavy. "It is no good for us to linger in this world for long."

     Harry nodded, watching Draco give Scorpius and his wife one last hug before moving to stand next to Severus.

     "Thank you Harry," said Draco once more to Harry, who reached out his hand to shake Draco's.

    "Equals?" Harry grinned, remembering back to the collapse.

    "Equals." Draco laughed.

     Harry became increasingly aware of the resurrection stone in his palm, knowing that this would be its last use.

     "Goodbye Draco," Harry muttered.

     "Goodbye Harry," replied Draco, before turning to his wife. "Astoria, don't be afraid to move on, I know you'll always love me. You deserve someone by your side."

     She nodded, unable to speak.

    "And Scorpius," Draco told his son, laughter in his grey eyes, "if Professor Potter gives you too much homework, I'll send down a bolt of lightning to set his desk on fire for you."

     "Okay Dad," Scorpius laughed.

     "Goodbye, I love you both," he muttered, before turning to Harry with laughter in his eyes. "Fear not Potter, I'm not going to say I love you, that's weird."

     Harry shook his head slightly, grinning.

     "It appears you have forgotten someone again Harry," Severus said dryly, arms crossed.

     "I didn't forget you," Harry contradicted. "How could I?"

     "A memory charm perhaps ..." Severus replied.

     "You know what I mean," Harry said before becoming serious once more. "Goodbye Severus, I'll miss you.'

     "As will I."

            With a look all around, and a nod from each of them. Harry turned the stone over three times, and with each turn, Draco and Severus faded.

      Just as Harry flipped the stone over a final time, Severus said one last sentence. Words that rang in Harry's ears as he stood in the forest, eyes gazing around the clearing while his two companions returned to the castle.

      There was almost no sound, the snow causing a quiet ringing that was silent to those who did not listen for it. Harry breathed deeply, the cool air rushing in and out of his lungs. He remembered the day he walked through the forest to Voldemort, knowing that his last breath would be taken on the fringe of the trees. He had grown so much since then. But so had the trees around him; only their height could show just how many years had passed, each of those years filled with sorrow and joy and new challenges. Each of them leaving but memories that mingled in the mist of Harry's heart. The mist where his mother sang to him, and where Fred and Mad-Eye still lived. Where Severus and Draco still walked beside him.

     How long Harry stood there, he did not know. In time however, he turned his back on the two pieces of stone lying in the snow and  the clearing where he had seen so much. And he left the forest, the crescent moon rising behind the trees, the clouds clearing away. As the stars began to appear in the fading light and  twinkle overhead, so far away, and yet so near, Harry heard once more the echo of Severus' voice through the trees.

     Goodbye is not forever

      He was right.