Disclaimer: JK Rowling's characters.

Snape's Quarters, Hogwarts, April 1997 (30)

"Harry Potter." Harry muttered, then stepped into Snape's entrance hall, closing the door behind him. "Professor?"

No answer. He cocked his head, listening for a rustle of life, but the quiet continued-which meant Draco and Fang weren't there. Snape might be in his bedroom, napping (a luxury he occasionally afforded himself after leaving the hospital wing) but from where he stood, Harry could see the door to the man's room was open. He shrugged off his book bag and set it down by the cloak rack then ambled into the kitchen to get a butterbeer. After crossing the small hallway into the sitting room, he found Snape.

The man lay asleep on the sofa, on his back, left hand over his heart; his right hand dangled off the edge of the cushion. He had removed his teaching robes, but he still had on his boots. His fingers twitched intermittently and his lips moved.

Harry walked to the coffee table, set down his butterbeer, then stepped over to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. He tugged the huge green and silver throw Hermione had knitted Snape for Christmas off the chair's arm. Careful not to wake the man, Harry slowly removed his boots then covered him with the throw. Just as he was tucking it around his shoulder, Snape spoke, making Harry jump.

"Harry -"

"Yes, sir?"

"Harry?"

"I'm right here."

"Harry!" Snape became more agitated.

Harry nearly responded again, then he realized Snape's eyes were still closed; the man was still asleep. Harry frowned and eased back on to the coffee table, wondering if Snape's sleep was always so restless. At Soth-ince he had never heard Snape stirring within his own bedroom, which made him sure the man had rigged things so he couldn't.

"Harry!" Snape was shouting now, his hands strangling the throw. Harry leaned forward, hand poised to grasp Snape's shoulder, to wake him up.

"No." Harry jerked around at the sound of Draco's voice. "Let him wake on his own. Trust me."

"Why?"

Draco pursed his lips. "Remember that sore arm I had a few weeks ago?"

"So, you knew about this?" Harry gestured angrily at Snape.

Draco sighed. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Draco appeared mildly surprised. "You moved out, Potter. There's a lot that goes on here that you don't know about. And do recall that you weren't overly approachable for weeks, especially if it was anything concerning him."

"You still could have said something about this!"

"Oh, yes, because you would have listened. Be honest, Potter, you were too pissed to care." Draco rolled his eyes at Harry's wounded expression. "At any rate, he never wanted you to know."

"What? Why?"

Draco settled into one of the chairs before the fireplace. "He doesn't want it to be the reason you come back home."

Harry looked at Snape. With all the fidgety back and forth movement a heavy lock of hair had fallen over his face to cover his cheek. As Harry gently shifted it back, tucking it behind his ear, Snape came awake with a start. His black eyes shone with a chilling alertness and wariness; it faded once he met Harry's eyes. Frowning, he angled his elbow to sit up. Harry laid a hand on his chest, urging him to stay put.

"What the devil are you doing hovering over me?"

Harry shook his head. "I was just covering you up."

Snape looked down his body at the throw. "Oh," he said and dragged the backs of his hands over his eyes as he yawned. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Harry clasped his hands between his knees. He wanted to ask Snape if he was all right, ask him what he had been dreaming about, but he didn't want to antagonize the man. Not just then. He cleared his throat. "Sir, I'm - I'd like to move back in - if that's all right."

Snape met Harry's gaze, held it. "If you wish," he said softly.

"I do, but...what about you?"

Snape turned to settle onto his right side so he was facing Harry. He slid his right hand between his cheek and the pillow, leaving his left hand to dangle off the edge of the sofa.

"Harry, I never wanted you to leave."

Harry lowered his eyes to look at Snape's hand. He took it between his own and began to rub gently, warming it because it felt cool to the touch. Snape lightly squeezed Harry's hand and closed his eyes.

*WO