Previously: What had this child gone through all his life? All kinds of abuse, so much hatred and pain and suffering. And his last moments were torture, his last memory of angry red eyes, delighting in his pain. Severus sobbed and wept for the young boy in his arms, who had had to give his life without meaning and only to satisfy the thirst of a mad monster. He felt Albus lay a hand on his arm but didn't react to it. He eased his arms a little to look down on the innocent face, the closed green eyes.

He brushed the hair from his forehead and kissed it. It was still so warm, the child still felt so alive. His lips were caressing soft skin, he could almost imagine blood rushing through the boy.

He started horribly, when a weak little voice asked hopefully 'Daddy?'

It took Snape a good half hour to register all that had happened. He still sat stunned at the boy's bed, fascinated by the rhythm of his breathing. His chest raising and falling without missing one beat. He was there, a few feet from him, alive and relatively well.

Whenever the slight form in front of him gave a sigh, Severus jumped up and checked all his vitals. The boy had been dead, truly gone, but had come back. It was mad, it was impossible, it was… wonderful. Snape sat back in his chair, still bound by the gentle raise and fall. He would stay here until the boy woke up.

Daddy. Severus felt proud at that one word, because it meant Harry had been occluding. Still, in the clutches of a mad man, being tortured and humiliated, he had managed to keep his mind closed and inaccessible.

Harry on the other side had had an exciting encounter he was reliving in his dreams. When Voldemorts curse shot at them, Harry had deliberately turned to catch it, to safe Snape. It had not been a conscious decision, more of an instinct. And as the light hit him, he was propelled into a house he had never seen before. He sat in a nursery, the baby bed empty and he realized why, as his mother entered the room. She was smiling softly down at him.

'Am I dead?' he had asked, sounding hopeful, Lily had shaken her head

'No, you are in the in-between world. You were one of Voldemort's Horcuxes and as he shot that killing curse at you and you sacrificed yourself for Severus, my protection brought you here. The Horcrux in you is now destroyed, but you have the choice.'

'The choice?' Harry asked

'Do you want to return or go on?'

She sat down in the rocking chair and looked up at him, smiling softly. Harry didn't know what to do. He wanted to stay here with his beautiful, loving mother. But something in the world he had left behind was beckoning him.

'What should I do?' he whispered to her, going down to his knees. She leaned forward and smoothed his hair away. Harry leaned his head into her lap and enjoyed her loving caress.

'There are people here, who love you very much, Harry. And there are people back there, who love you very much. But we will be here in years to come. There is no hurry for us.'

'But mum, I want to be with you and dad!'

She stroked his cheek lovingly and whispered 'Shall I tell you a secret, Harry? You have a dad back there as well. Can you hear his voice? He is crying for you.'

And Harry heard it. He heard the crying and the sobbing. And suddenly he could feel those strong arms around himself and saw his mother getting foggier and foggier. He almost wanted to grab her, but knew it would not work. A kiss on his forehead was the sensation that jerked him back to the living world. He couldn't say if it had been his mother or the mysterious father she was talking about.

It was a strange thing, waking up to someone fussing over you. Especially if that person turned out to be Snape and you had developed a severe aversion to touch. A high-pitched scream rattled Spinners End and Harry banged his head against Snape's, as he tried to sit up, while Snape was checking his temperature with a hand on his forehead. Snape scowled at him and Harry blushed.

'Err… what happened, professor?' he asked, rubbing his head. Snape left his side to return to a chair a few feet away. That was better.

'What is the last thing you remember?'

Harry's hand on his forehead stilled 'Someone kissing me here.'

Twin blotches of red appeared on Snape's shallow cheeks and he cleared his throat 'Well, yes… As you may remember I found you and apparated us away into my living room. For a few moments you were…'

'Dead', Harry breathed, his eyes looking into distance 'I saw my mum. She told me I had the choice to return… That there was someone… Who was crying all over me?'

The red marks that had begun receding, took on a darker shade at the question 'I… Me, it was me.'

Harry stared at him disbelievingly and Snape's tone was quite defensive, when he explained 'You were dead! I was… mourning.'

'Mourning me?' Harry asked confused 'Why would you care?'

'I had just blown my cover to rescue you and I get here with your dead body – it was a bit disconcerting and I had every right to be upset, don't you think?' Snape said angrily and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

'It's just… My mum said something… I…' Harry trailed away

'You said 'daddy', when you came back.' Snape prompted and curiously noted Harry blushing this time 'Were you occluding? When we were in the Dark Lord's presence?'

Harry stared at him and then nodded 'Yes, I always occluded, when he was there.'

'Well done.' Snape said heavily and sighed. Harry relaxed, knowing that Snape hadn't read anything else into the small word that had slipped outside, while he was coming back to world of the living.

'So what's the status?' Harry said, raising his arms lamely to indicate his physical well-being.

'The Dark Lord did not harm you in any permanent way, even though you were his prisoner.' Snape frowned at that 'You have healed completely.'

Harry looked surprised, but when he peered at his arm, he saw that even his self-inflicted cut marks were gone. Funny, how he didn't feel any compulsion to do that any more. Maybe that's what prolonged torture does to a person… Or at last, to him…

'So… I am staying here… with you?'

Snape nodded 'Until the end of summer. Now that you are awake, I am sure you want to get up, shower and dress. I'll be waiting downstairs in the kitchen with something light to eat.'

With that Snape left him to his own devices, which was enough proof for Harry that he was indeed healed completely. He left the bed and stretched, then did as he had been told. A shower had never felt this good. It wasn't that he was dirty, he had been cleaned up and dressed in fresh pajamas. But the warm water on his skin, the smell of soap – there was a sense of cleanliness in those sensations as well.

After a light dinner, Snape showed him the house, to Harry's extreme surprise there was no laboratory. The room which could've been made into one harbored – paintings. Harry gaped for a moment.

'Did you buy them?' He asked, walking in uninvited and checking them out. The ones in the front showed landscapes, mostly with only one person or animal in it. In the back he could see pictures in dark tones that depicted several people inside dark rooms.

'No' Snape said, his voice very cautious 'I drew them.'

Harry froze, then turned around and said 'Really? They're very good!'

Snape looked surprised at the praise but didn't comment.

'I draw too… Well, I doodle…' Harry admitted, scratching his arm a bit. Snape gently curled his fingers around Harry's hand and pulled it away, the movement casual, for all the meaning it conveyed. Harry felt like he had to reassure him. 'I won't do that any more, sir.'

'I know.' Snape said and the conviction in his voice heartened Harry 'But habits die hard.'

He let go of Harry's hand that had started throbbing uneasily at the touch and said 'If you want to try something out, you could draw here whenever you like.'

Harry looked up from one of the sketches 'That would be great, I'd really like to…'

And just like this, Harry found himself emerged in Art every day, for hours on a stretch. He wasn't particularly good, but he put effort in and that seemed to impress Severus more than any inherent talent could. Lacking ideas, Harry started to sketch out Severus' pictures and make them his own in some way.

Harry, like Snape, seemed to prefer darker tones and settings, like caves and forests at midnight. Harry liked to draw the full moon casting a ghostly light onto things and one day decided to sketch the Womping Willow at moonlight with Hogwarts in the background. While he was sketching he changed his mind and turned Hogwarts into the Shrieking Shack, as he thought the haunted house fit better into the dark scenery than the cheerful castle.

While he was colouring his picture he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him and turned around. Snape was standing over him, staring intently at his picture. He reached out and took it in his hands, looking at it with keen and tumultuous eyes.

'This is… very close to the real thing.' He finally said and Harry smiled up at him

'Do you think so? It took me a long time, I really like it.'

'The shadows and the light…' Snape said with reverence 'They signify something'

Harry leaned closer to look at the picture as well. He had unconsciously drawn what felt like a good addition to the picture, but as he looked at the cold white moonlight and dark blue shadows, he felt like there was a lot of darkness and emptiness in that picture. It felt a bit like an emotional black hole. He shuddered slightly. Snape put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

'You are expressing your emotions with your pen. This is a good thing.' Snape met his eyes and said 'We have avoided to talk about what happened to you' Harry stiffened under his fingers 'If you don't feel up to it, I'd recommend writing about it. I could give you a journal.'

'I have one' Harry remembered 'I got it, when I bought school supplies.'

'Please use it to set your thoughts to paper every night. I do want you to talk about it all at some point, but not until you are somewhat comfortable with it.'

The throbbing at his shoulder, where he was being held, lessened at those words and Harry gave a trembling smile. He appreciated the time, patience and space Snape was giving him.

As Harry wrote into his journal that night, he had a lot of thoughts about his art to put down. Strangely his dreams centered around the same subject, making Harry fall into them one after the other. Even though they all followed a rather sinister mood, in his dreams they had a calming feeling take hold if him. He felt safe and slept deeply.