The scream had come out of nowhere. One minute Severus was amusing himself by watching the Griffyndor’s clumsy attempts to protect him from Umbridge, the next, Potter was screaming. Severus had seen the boy lose all of the bones in his right arm, fight a dragon and face down an assumed murderer. He had never seen Potter scream. Severus, along with the rest of the class, froze in horror. Then Potter’s legs buckled and Weasley instinctively caught him by the waist. This action seemed to waken Hermione who pushed the pair of boys towards a chair while uttering a string of soothing words to Harry who did not seem to hear her. Then the screaming stopped. Harry looked up at Hermione, breathless. For a moment it seemed like it was over. Hermione was just about to speak when Harry suddenly screamed again.

Severus had heard nothing like it since the Dark Lord was in power. It was ripped from the throat and almost panicked in its pain. It was that scream that broke Severus out of his state of frozen shock. He whipped his wand out and strode purposefully towards the boy. He pushed Granger away with a stern ‘move’. The girl did not even think to argue. He took her place in front of Harry as Weasley struggled to keep the boy upright from behind the stool.

“Potter” Severus said urgently, placing his hand’s on Harry’s shoulders and almost kneeling in an attempt to catch the boy’s eye. Potter’s robes were slightly damp under Severus’ hand and he could feel the boy’s muscles shaking involuntarily.  The pain was palpable. Severus raised the boy’s head trying to look in his eye’s to perform legilimency and push the intruder out of Potter’s mind.  His eyes were clenched shut.

“Open your eyes Potter.” Severus ordered, thanking Merlin his voice wasn’t shaking.

“What are you doing to him?” Ron demanded, pulling Harry back towards him protectively. Severus didn’t answer. At that moment, a single tear squeezed off of Harry’s eyelid and landed on the thumb Severus had holding Harry’s cheek up. Something very unpleasant happened to the inside of Severus’ stomach at the feel of that tear. It was like it was turning over and dropping out of him all at once.

“Restura” Severus whispered. Instantly, Harry went slack and slumped forward, nearly taking Ron with him. Severus, who was prepared for the weight, caught Harry easily. It was reckless to knock Harry out, doing so left his mind almost completely open but the boy was in pain now. They could deal with the Dark Lord later. With a deft flick of his wand, he levitated Harry up silently.

He turned to the rest of the class and Umbridge, all of who were watching in silent fascination.

“I need to tend to Mr. Potter here. Dolores, given your qualifications I assume you have the ability to take over the class.” Severus said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Dolores opened her mouth to protest but ended up giving a stiff nod of assent. She looked at the wealth of smelly, smiley, bubbling cauldrons with clear distaste. “Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger have the ability to assist you if you need it.”

Severus was the only professor who had not complemented Hermione and he knew this small nod of approval would have usually made her beet red with pleasure. Now though, she didn’t respond. She just continued to look at Harry’s unconscious body, pale-faced and tearful.

“No I’m coming with you.” Hermione squeaked as Severus turned to levitate Harry out of the room.

“Me too!” Ron added hastily. It was all Snape could do not to bare his teeth at the children.

“Hurry up then.” Severus snapped. Wordlessly levitating Potter took concentration, he didn’t want to argue with the other two musketeers and risk dropping the boy on the stone floor.

Severus levitated Potter out of the classroom, careful to avoid the doorframe. He could hear whispers break out the moment the dungeon door closed. Umbridge’s demand for order came moments later but the buzz of student voices continued to filter down the hallway.

“Professor?” Hermione asked in a voice that suggested she had been debating saying what she was going to say. Severus sighed. Did this girl ever make the choice not to speak?

“Professor, this isn’t the way to the hospital wing.” Hermione said, gaining more confidence as she spoke.

“No.” Severus agreed.

“Well, where are you taking him?’ Ron asked with the same protective outrage he had when Snape tried to perform legilimency on Potter.

“I hear Potter has a way of communicating with Black.” Severus said whipping around to confront the two children tailing him. Both exchanged looks with one another, clearly unwilling to confirm or deny this statement. “Go to the common room. Tell Black I need to speak to Dumbledore.” Ron looked like he was about to protest but Hermione, calmed at being given an order, nodded sharply and pulled Ron towards the dungeon’s exit. Severus felt a twinge of relief. At least he wouldn’t have Thing 1 peppering him with questions and Thing 2 acting like he was going to attempt to murder Harry.

Severus whispered his new password (colonoscopy) to the portrait of the stern-faced Chinese soldier and stepped in to his apartment, carefully levitating Potter in front of him to the couch.  Severus lowered the boy with as much control as he could, wincing slightly when Potter’s head hit the arm-rest.  For a moment, Severus felt a little overcome with the awkwardness of having a student, Potter no less, stretched out on his couch. The list of people who were invited into his quarters was short. The list of students was almost non-existent. Severus pushed the feeling of discomfort away. It was not helpful. Protecting Harry Potter was his job and if that meant putting the boy on his couch than the boy would be on his couch. Severus would find a way to deal with it.

Severus took in the state of the boy. His face was pale, lined with pain. Even in sleep it seemed that all of his muscles were clenched.  Severus desperately wanted to give him a pain-relieving potion but he wasn’t sure if he should until he figured out the reason for his pain.  With a complicated swish of his wand, Severus ran a diagnostic spell over the lifeless body on the couch.

Blood vessels were burst in the brain and it was already starting to swell. Similar injuries had rendered better wizards than Potter paralyzed, brain-damaged or dead. Icy dread filled Severus’ chest. Severus took a deep breath and forced himself to be more impassive. Potter’s injuries weren’t nearly as critical as the cases he was thinking of and Potter’s own magic was already starting heal his body. Severus placed two fingers on the inside of Potter’s throat. The muggle-half of him never trusted magic to monitor a heartbeat. He needed to feel the steady pulse of the vein himself. The heartbeat was rapid but strong. Tension began to melt away and the task before Severus became more manageable. After years of serving the Dark Lord, Severus knew how to heal.

He was able to close the blood vessels with almost no problem.  He didn’t want to do more for the swelling then give the boy an anti-inflammatory potion until the boy woke in case the damage was more extensive than he thought. He easily spelled the potion into the boy’s stomach. Harry would undoubtedly have a headache and feel shaken and sickly from the prolonged pain. There was nothing to be done for that.  Severus looked at the boy again. Even in sleep Harry’s face was pinched and pale. He tossed fretfully. If Severus could get the boy awake and check his cognitive functioning he could give him some relief from the pain.

“Harry.” Severus said shaking the boy softly. Harry’s eyes blearily slid open. The green eyes focused on Snape’s then started to slide shut again. “No stay awake.” Severus ordered shaking the boy again. Harry opened his eyes just long enough to give Severus a decidedly pissy scowl.

“Who am I?” Severus asked before Harry could sleep again. Harry took a few moments longer than he should have to focus on Severus. A nagging worried feeling started to rise up Severus. “Harry?”

“Sn-Snape?” Harry said, more of a question than an answer. Harry blinked heavily, bothered by the lights. His distress growing. “What’s – where –“. Severus noticed that the boy’s breathing was starting to teeter on the edge of panic. Despite Harry’s agitation, Severus was calmed. Though Harry’s eyes were glazed with pain and fear they were also filled with comprehension. He would be fine.

“Drink.” Snape said, less solicitous. If the boy was going to be fine there was no need to fuss. Harry downed the pain-relieving potion Severus brought to his lips without question. Harry struggled to blink his heavy eyelids open as he stared at Severus, confusion on his pale face. He couldn’t keep it up. After a moment, his eyes slid shut and his breathing deepened. His forehead was creased in a slight frown, knowing, even in sleep, something was amiss.

Severus turned to go to his own room to wait for Dumbledore then stopped himself and turned back to Harry. Severus stepped closer to the boy and waited for moment, assessing the deepness of his sleep. Both the physical injury and the potion should keep the boy sleeping deeply for the next few hours. Wordlessly, Severus conjured a pillow under the boy’s head. He paused, waiting for a reaction. None came. Breathing a little easier, Severus walked to the end of the couch and, like a reluctant child taking of a band-aid, he slowly removed Potter’s left shoe, then his right one. Potter sighed and shuffled in his sleep. Severus whipped his head around to look at the boy’s face and froze like a rabbit being hunted.  Potter smacked his lips and started to snore. Severus relaxed and summoned the blanket from the back of his easy chair. He draped it over Potter as efficiently as possible to avoid any impressions of tucking the child in. For a long moment Severus watched the boy. He didn’t seem to be suffering or ill. His hand had wound itself around the blanket and his chapped lips were slightly agar as he snored softly. After a moment of slight hesitation, Severus reached forward and removed Harry’s askew glasses with the same care one might expect from a surgeon removing an organ. He placed the glasses soundlessly on the coffee table and, without another look back, swept into his bedroom.

Hours later, Severus’s peace was broken by a groan from the next room. He stiffened.  He has spent the last few hours grading abysmal essays on his bed so he wouldn’t have to think of Potter until the potions wore off, which, given the boy’s head trauma, was not supposed to be until morning. Despite his acknowledgement of the noise coming from the living room, Severus did not look up from Mackenzie Sheppard’s analysis of the difference between forgetfulness potions and memory-erasing potions. A simple forgetfulness potion should use only the juice of only three… Another moan, louder this time. Severus tightened his jaw and read.  A simple forgetfulness – Potter called out. Severus’ head jerked up from the essay to the door.

He knew the boy was alive and healing, that was his far as his interest in Potter always extended. Every time the boy had fallen from his broomstick or faced down a dragon, Severus had always checked. If he couldn’t find a reason to be present when Potter’s injury was being assessed he would wait until Potter’s crowd of adorers left the hospital wing and go sit by the small bed to watch Potter’s chest rise and fall. He did not do so to make sure Potter was comfortable or healing emotionally. He just cared that the chest kept rising. He would always leave after a few minutes.

For the first time, Severus felt an urge to make sure that the boy was not in pain and not in fear. He didn’t like this new feeling. Another moan, louder this time, reverberated from the next room. Perhaps he should call Minerva. And say what? A voice inside his head retorted. You are too scared to look in on the boy? He could just let Potter suffer. It’s not like he cared before.

 ‘No…no…no” Potter’s voice whimpered from the next room. The voice sounded too young and tremulous to be Potter’s. “He’s going to kill me Mom.” It felt as though all the blood in Severus’ body had been turned to ice. It was too much, even for Severus, to hear the boy beg for his mother…beg for Lily.

Severus slid into the living room and over to the couch where the boy lay. A thin layer of sweat covered the pained, fearful face. The blanket was tangled around him and he fought against it as though it was a restraint.

“Potter” Severus whispered sharply, unsure of how to act. He had never been in this situation before.  The boy didn’t respond and continued to toss fretfully. His face looked slightly feverish, not an uncommon response to the magic Severus had performed earlier. Even healing spells had side-effects. Undoubtedly the pain and confusion from earlier were also taking their toll on him. Severus could only give him small amounts of pain-reliever until he woke up properly.

“Potter you’re dreaming.” Severus said, trying again, his voice softer this time. No luck. This was completely beyond him. It would be easier, not to mention less awkward to shift the boy’s dreamscape. Severus took his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at Potter’s forehead.

“Legilimens” Severus said silkily, controlling his intrusion to limit his effect on Potter’s already-taxed brain. As Severus expected, Harry’s dreamscape was less rational and organized than his memories were. Images whipped in and out before Severus could fully see them, as though he was standing in front of a flip-book someone was thumbing through too fast. Though he couldn’t focus on the images, he himself could feel the deep dread pouring out from each of them. There was an almost overwhelming sense of terror in Potter’s mind that threatened to engulf Severus as well if he allowed it. It was not advisable to dream-walk alone. Unlike pure memories, the subject was not able to offer an anchor in reality to the legilimens. Consequently, the legilimens had the potential to get engulfed by the memories they were watching, remaining stuck until subject awoke and pushed them out of their mind. Taking a steadying breath Severus focused hard on the next image that went sailing by. 

Harry, hardly 8, stood in a worn elementary-school bathroom stall. The clothes he was wearing were too big for a much older child; on Potter they looked like a bad attempt at a Halloween costume. Four larger boys, older and better dressed, blocked Harry’s exit from the bathroom. They were laughing. Harry’s face was pale but set. Severus could feel the fear and defiance cursing through him and was distracted from the task of finding a new image for the boy. Like Harry, he was frozen.

“Get in” The largest one, Harry’s cousin, ordered. Harry shook his head defiantly. The others laughed. The cousin gave Harry a firm shove, causing the boy to stumble back and sit on the toilet. Fear was greater now. With a sudden swell of defiance, Harry ran at the boys. The cousin pushed him back so hard that he left his feet and crashed to the ground. The over-large glasses flew off of his face. Everything was blurry now. His bottom hurt from where it had crashed on the floor and he was almost winded from where his back has smacked the toilet. There was no way he’d cry. Harry leant forward for his glasses. One of the boy’s small and rat-like, stepped on them, taking care to crush Harry’s fingers. Harry’s lips quivered as the glasses broke. He was going to be in trouble for that. The boys started to laugh.

“Look who’s gonna cry.” The rat-like boy said, howling. Harry bit his lip so hard he could feel the bumps in the muscle. He didn’t dare look up.

“What a baby.” A rough-grab pulled Harry up by his hair towards the toilet. His attempts to scramble away were met with a swift kick in the ribs that winded him. He cried out. Then he was choking on stale toilet water and he couldn’t breathe, the water was swirling around taking his breath with it. Panic and fear shot up into Harry. Severus fought to unwind himself from the emotions, desperately trying to think of a soothing image to place in the boy’s mind.

A child’s pale face with soft features and brilliant green eyes was contorted in laughter. It sounded melodious, more beautiful than it could have been in reality. The curtain of red hair shook with the force of the giggles. Severus’ breath stopped. He hadn’t meant to put this image in Potter’s mind. This image was only his. Before Severus could yank it away jealously, the image began to shift. The smiling, green-eyed face was the same, changed only to be older. There was no childish laughter just a loving smile. This was Harry’s image of Lily, Severus realized with a start. The image was blurred and slightly distorted. With a pang that had nothing to do with seeing Lily, Severus realized Harry was not certain enough about the details of Lily’s face to have a clear image of her face. Still, Severus could feel calm and comfort start to replace the boy’s fear and sadness. Severus studied the loving smile etched on Lily’s face for one more moment. He wasn’t sure if the painful longing he felt belonged to Potter or himself. Not daring to look again, Severus extracted himself from Potter’s mind.

Severus looked down at the boy who was now snoring peacefully. He could see traces of the scared 8-year old in the thin-layer of baby fat that still covered what would become handsome, high-set cheekbones. The hand wound around the blanket seemed to underscore the boy’s age. He was still so young. Severus could see the faint outline of the scar on Harry’s hand: I must not tell lies. The boy’s brow creased for a moment and he groaned softly, as though about to wake. Another scar, the famous one, came into view. The boy moaned again. Without thinking about it, Severus reached out and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“It’s alright.” Severus whispered. His voice had taken on a gentle tone that he never knew he possessed. He was not entirely sure what he was trying to accomplish with the gesture and regretted it almost immediately. Harry calmed and nestled deeper into the couch.