Harry didn't know how he'd ended up back here, and he couldn't seem to shake the overwhelming panic coursing through him. 

The room seemed smaller, the walls closing in on him as Harry sat on the worn down bed in his room on Privet Drive. A few streaks of moonlight shining in through the barred windows were the only source of light in the otherwise pitch blackness that surrounded him. It was quiet until the sound of heavy footsteps from beyond his door caught his attention, stomping up the stairs and coming to a halt right outside the door.

Without warning, the door swung open, slamming the wall with a resounding bang and causing Harry to jump. He could make out the silhouette of a large round figure taking up most of the space in the doorway before the man entered, heading straight for Harry with the most malicious look on his face, accentuated by the dimness of the room.

Harry attempted to back away as far as he could, but his back quickly hit the wall behind him. 

There was nowhere else to go.

"Nothing but a freak! Always a danger to my family! I'm going to give what a freak like you deserves!" Uncle Vernon shouted, and before Harry could even try to get away, he was grabbed roughly by the arm and pinned tightly to the wall. Harry started squirming, even tried kicking and scratching, but nothing was deterring Uncle Vernon's grip on him.

Then, an all too familiar belt appeared in Uncle Vernon's hand. Harry flinched when Uncle Vernon swung it, causing a loud snap to echo around the room when it hit the wall beside him. 

"Nothing but a burden. Ungrateful brat. Worthless freak. Who would want you?"

Another figure cloaked in black appeared behind Uncle Vernon. Harry's breath caught in his throat, his heart dropping when he recognized who the man was.

"Yes, who would want you as a son? Always causing trouble to everyone around you," said Snape, his face twisted in loathing as he regarded Harry with cold black eyes.

"No... I'm sorry, I-I'll be good. P-please," Harry rasped out, his attention solely on his father before the wind was knocked out of him by Uncle Vernon's large fist colliding into his ribcage.

"Shut up freak!" Uncle Vernon's lips curled into a nasty smile. "You really think he cares about you?"

Harry fell to the floor next to Snape's boots as the belt began raining relentlessly down on him. He glanced up and saw Snape looking down his nose at him, watching with a cool mask of indifference on his face...

"Potter," a voice said suddenly, but it didn't seem to come from Uncle Vernon or Snape, and Harry figured he must be hearing things. But then he heard it again. "Potter!"

Harry felt himself being shaken, the voice becoming louder, sounding more urgent as it continued to call his name.

"Harry!"

Severus made his way through the manor, pausing briefly to peer into Kieran's room as he passed before continuing onto Potter's room. Once he arrived, Severus flicked the lights on with a swish of his wand, and the scene that he was met with was alarming to say the least.

Potter was obviously having a nightmare. His limbs were flailing about, getting tangled in the bedclothes, as if he was trying to defend himself from an invisible attacker that only he could see.

"No... I'm sorry, I-I'll be good. P-please," Potter mumbled, but Severus heard every word.

Fully intent on waking the boy now, Severus swept over to his bedside, leaned over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Potter," he called, but immediately drew back when the boy flinched violently, jerking away from him.

Trying again, Severus cautiously reached out and shook him, hoping to wake him from whatever terrifying nightmare he was suffering from.

"Potter!" Severus continued calling the boy's name several times, but all to no avail. It seemed to only cause Potter to become more agitated. He began shaking the boy harder, and in his increasing desperation, Severus shouted, "Harry!"

Potter gave a loud gasp then, his chest heaving, eyes opened wide and darting all around the room for a few moments. Severus straightened and took a few steps back, releasing a small breath of relief.

With trembling hands, Potter reached for his glasses on the nightstand and shoved them roughly onto his face.

"Sir?" Potter whispered, his voice slightly hoarse, when his eyes connected with Severus' for a split second before he averted them. It was enough time for Severus to catch a glimpse of the anguish in those vivid emerald eyes.

The same eyes that Severus had been so familiar with.

Lily's eyes.

He remembered all those times he'd looked into those green eyes that had held so much light and innocence, none of which were present in the pair of green eyes he was currently looking at. These eyes were dulled and haunted, misery practically radiating in waves off of the boy.

Severus felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest at seeing Potter in such a distressed state.

What could the boy have dreamt about to elicit this sort of reaction?

Severus studied the boy before him, noting how Potter had shakily sat up and curled into himself, hugging his knees tightly to his chest as if attempting to provide himself comfort. His shirt was soaked, his hair damp and plastered against the thin sheet of sweat on his forehead. He released a trembling breath, a few tears slipping down his cheeks before he rested his forehead against the tops of his knees and hid his face from Severus' view. The boy suddenly looked much too small and vulnerable.

"It's all right. It was just a nightmare. You're safe here," Severus said in a soothing voice he didn't even know he was capable of. He wasn't sure what compelled him to respond in such a way, but hoped that he was being somewhat reassuring to the boy. He'd never felt more out of his element. Providing comfort was never one of his fortes, and it had been many years since he had willingly done so. He'd always passed on the job of comforting the homesick first years to his Prefects.

"I-I'm sorry for waking you sir," Harry said softly, raising his head a bit and glancing apprehensively in Severus' direction.

Severus gave a slight shake of his head. "There's no need to apologize, I had not retired to bed yet," he said, still using that same calm voice as he slowly sat down on the side of the bed, leaving as much room as possible between himself and the boy. He didn't want to cause more distress by hovering over him.

They sat in silence for a few long moments as Potter attempted to calm his heavy breathing. Then the boy turned away and rubbed his eyes, wiping away the last few tears.

"What was the dream about?" Severus ventured once he saw that Potter had somewhat composed himself.

Harry froze, and he appeared slightly shocked at first, as if that was one of the last things he'd expected to come out of Severus' mouth. But then his small form started to tremble again and he seemed to wrap his arms tighter around himself.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, vehemently shaking his head.

"I believe it would help to get it off your chest," said Severus.

Harry sniffed, releasing a shaky sigh. "Please sir, I... I don't want to talk about it," he whispered, a pleading look in his eyes.

Severus frowned, feeling a long forgotten emotion rising up within him, and he found himself giving in to the boy's request.

"As you wish," Severus said, deciding to let it go for now, but promising himself to look more into it later.

He didn't know how to deal with emotional teenagers and needed more time to think of a better approach to discovering what was the matter with the boy, because there was certainly something wrong. Everything that Severus had assumed about this boy these past five years was being contradicted. It was simply too much to process at the moment.

"Mimkey," Severus called, rising to his feet.

The house elf appeared with a pop next to the bed a moment later.

"Master Snape called for Mimkey?" she asked, before giving a concerned glance in Harry's direction.

"Bring me a vial of Dreamless Sleep, please."

"Of course, Mimkey will bring it straight away, sir."

Mimkey returned a few seconds later and handed Severus a vial of purple potion.

"Thank you, Mimkey."

"Does Master Snape be needing anything else?" asked Mimkey.

"No, that is all," Severus replied, dismissing her.

Mimkey gave a low bow, then popped out of the room.

Harry sighed, burying his face against his arms. A part of him wanted nothing more than to have told Snape everything. He wanted to just blurt it out because he was so damn tired of always pretending that he was fine.

Maybe, Snape would understand... Just maybe, Harry would finally get an adult he could confide in—

Or, most likely, Harry would receive a look of disgust from his father when Snape learned of how much of a freak Harry truly was. The fact that Harry could to get beaten down by a Muggle...

It was a good thing his glamour didn't slip. He didn't want to know what Snape would think if he saw all the bruises. The nightmare kept replaying, and Harry couldn't shake the image of Snape's look of utter revulsion out of his mind, the man's words ringing loud and true.

Who would want you as a son?

Of course, Snape wouldn't care. It's not like anyone bothered to care before.

If he doesn't care, then why did he ask about the dream? A small voice reasoned in his head. And why is he still here?

Harry couldn't even begin to wonder about that.

He'd been so lost in his own thoughts that he missed the entire exchange between Snape and Mimkey. He had only been drawn out of his thoughts when he heard Mimkey pop out of the room and saw his father holding a purple potion in his hand. Harry recognized it as Dreamless Sleep, remembering the only time he had used it was in his fourth year after the grueling third task.

Is he actually giving me a potion that would help me sleep?

"To help you sleep without nightmares," Snape said, setting the vial down on the nightstand. "It is up to you whether you wish to take it or not."

"Thank you sir," Harry murmured, forcing himself to make eye contact. He caught an unknown emotion in Snape's eyes, but it was gone a split second later, and Harry thought he might have just imagined it.

Snape gave a stiff nod, then turned and swept out of the room.

Harry watched him leave, and continued staring at the doorway long after his father had disappeared from sight. He couldn't quite comprehend what had happened and was still trying to process it all.

Why didn't he get yelled at for being a disturbance? Why didn't Snape just tell him to be quiet and then leave?

And Snape had been strangely calm, even a bit soothing, when speaking to Harry after waking him up from the nightmare. There had been none of the customary coldness or venom that Harry could detect in Snape's voice.

He sighed wearily and reached for the Dreamless Sleep, deciding to give up trying to make sense of all this.

Looking forward to a reprieve from the constant nightmares, Harry uncorked the potion and downed the whole thing in one gulp, only grimacing slightly at the bitter taste. As soon as he set the empty vial back on his nightstand, a wave of drowsiness washed over him, his eyes beginning to feel much too heavy. Harry didn't even bother to take his glass off or pull the sheets back over himself before he drifted to unconsciousness, finally sleeping without the risk of unpleasant dreams.

Unbeknownst to him, Severus had remained standing just outside of his bedroom door. He had watched Potter down the potion, then waited a few moments until he could hear the boy's breathing even out, before silently stepping back into the room. Severus slipped the empty potion vial into a robe pocket, and noticing Potter's glasses still on, he gently slid them off and placed them back on the nightstand. With a flick of his wand, Potter's sweat soaked shirt and sheets were dried, his hair no longer stuck to his forehead. Then, having done this for Kieran before, Severus carefully pulled the sheets up to Harry's chin and tucked them loosely to his side.

He lingered beside the bed, observing the boy's now peaceful slumber for a few more moments before he noxed the lights and slipped quietly out of the room, softly shutting the door behind him on his way out.

With so many thoughts occupying his mind, Severus retired to his own bedroom to think things over before turning in for the night.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling more rested than he'd had in a long time. He reached for his glasses on his nightstand and shoved them on, but immediately noticed that his vision didn't become clearer like it usually did. He blinked a couple of times, hoping to decrease the blurriness, but nothing changed. Taking the glasses off, Harry instantly noticed a change in clarity, and was surprised to find that he was able to see details at the other end of the room now. Never before had he been able to see this well, even with the glasses on.

It must be Mum's glamour still wearing off. 

Harry quickly slid out of bed and into the bathroom to see if anymore noticeable changes had occurred.

His physical appearance hadn't changed much since the last time he checked, beside the fact that he didn't seem to need glasses anymore, which was a relief because he never really liked those glasses anyway. Aunt Petunia had got them from a charity box and Harry had lost count of the many times he'd had to fix them with tape after Dudley decided to use him as a punching bag.

After taking a quick shower, Harry ran a comb through his hair, grateful that it didn't stick up all over the place anymore, and flattened his fringe to cover his scar. By the time he was finished, it was time for breakfast.

As he made his way down, memories from last night came to the forefront of his mind, and Harry felt embarrassed for letting Snape see him like that.

Was Snape going to say anything about what he saw last night? Was he going to use it against him?

It would be more ammunition for Snape to use against Harry in class... As if he didn't have enough already.

But oddly enough, Snape had acted completely different from what Harry had expected. The man hadn't belittled him for crying over a silly nightmare, nor had he shout at Harry for disturbing him and being such a bother. Uncle Vernon definitely would have just shaken him awake and told him to shut up or else.

It was still hard to believe that Snape had been so calm last night. Harry didn't know the man had it in him.

Even more bewildering was that Snape sounded like he maybe... cared?

No, Harry shook his head, pushing the thought away. Nobody had ever woken him up from one of his nightmares and wanted to help him. Last night had to have been just a one-off thing...

Harry sighed, not knowing what to think anymore.

Severus glanced up from the Daily Prophet when he heard the boy coming into the room. He nearly showed the surprise he inwardly felt at seeing the boy without his glasses, but managed to keep his face impassive. Those green eyes were even more striking now without those ridiculous round spectacles constantly framing them.

"Why are you not wearing your glasses?" Severus asked, and Potter seemed surprised by his question.

"Er, I guess I don't need them anymore, sir. I can see better without them now," Harry replied with a slight shrug as he slid into his usual seat at the table.

Severus raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't comment further as Potter began tucking into his breakfast and Kieran drew Severus into the beginnings of another conversation with a question about poison antidotes.

But throughout breakfast, Severus found himself occasionally glancing over at Potter, and from what he could see of the boy's body language, Harry seemed tense and subdued. He was hunched into himself, fiddling with his fork, and picking at his food, not really eating much of it.

Perhaps he is still troubled by that nightmare, Severus thought.

He had been up most of the night trying to make sense of everything he'd noticed from the boy so far. The more he'd thought about it, the more those thoughts started leading him down a path he never wanted to return to. Severus had forcefully locked those thoughts away, fervently telling himself that this was certainly not a comparable case.

"I will be down in the potions lab, and am not to be bothered," Snape told Harry and Kieran once breakfast had been cleared away. When he had received a nod from both, he continued, this time speaking only to Harry, "You do not have any chores today, however, I expect you to be working on your school assignments. No doubt, you were probably waiting until the last minute to complete them. If you are in need of resources, you have permission to use the library."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, realizing that Snape's voice sounded slightly less cold than usual today. It definitely wasn't kind, but it wasn't unkind either.

So unlike Snape.

Harry shook his head a bit to clear it and didn't think more of it. He was actually looking forward to a chore free day.

For the next few hours, Harry was in the library working on his potion's assignment, a couple books he'd found helpful on the subject spread out on the table in front of him. Having lost track of time focused on his work, Harry didn't notice that he'd missed lunch until Mimkey had popped in with a plate of sandwiches and a goblet of pumpkin juice. He couldn't believe that Snape had sent it, but Harry was grateful for it nonetheless.

After eating his lunch, he continued working until Kieran strutted in and came to stand in front of Harry's table, his arms crossed in an acceptable impression of Snape.

"Hey Potter," Kieran said, dark eyes glancing at all of Harry's work on the table. Feigning interest, he picked up one of Harry's finished essays and started looking over it.

"What do you want?" Harry snapped, snatching his essay back. He didn't trust it being in Kieran's hands.

"You know, I've been helping Dad out with his potions this summer. He says I'm far more advanced than my year level," Kieran said in a haughty sort of voice. "I'm sure I know more than you do."

"Good for you," Harry said sarcastically, focusing his full attention back on the book in front of him. "Can you leave me alone now?"

"I learned a lot from him," Kieran smirked, continuing as if Harry hadn't spoken. "It's too bad that you won't get to cause, you know, he hates you."

"Yeah, like I need you to tell me," Harry muttered, flipping the page. It wasn't new to him that Snape disliked him, he had known that for the past five years now, but Harry had no clue why Kieran also seemed to hate him. That was a mystery to him considering they have never met before, and Harry didn't even know he had a half brother until recently.

"Why do you seem to hate me?" Harry decided to ask, growing irritated by Kieran's attitude the more he thought about it. He reminded him a lot of Malfoy and Dudley. "What have I done to you, seeing as I've never met you before?" Harry looked up at Kieran, waiting for an answer. When he didn't immediately get one, he added, "Does it have anything to do with Voldemort?"

Kieran flinched at the sound of the name, but recovered quickly, rolling his eyes. "How did you survive that killing curse?" he asked instead, ignoring Harry's questions all together. "I don't see anything special about you."

"It was my mother who protected me," Harry replied, glaring at him. "Now answer my question."

Kieran scoffed, "Right, as if a Mudblood could be that powerful."

"Don't call my mother that!" Harry snapped through gritted teeth.

"I can't believe Dad stooped that low," Kieran continued, his lips curling. "If you ask me, I think she most likely took advantage of him."

He's just trying to rile me up, Harry told himself, trying to draw in deep, calming breathes. Kieran continued on, and Harry attempted to block him out as he stared back down at his book, but couldn't seem to take in any of the words on the page. There was a funny ringing in his ears as he struggled to reign in the anger building within him. The tips of his fingers were tingling and he could feel the energy swirling around the room as the books began rattling on the shelves and the table started vibrating.

"She was probably nothing more than a filthy whore—"

"Shut up!" Harry shouted, something finally snapping within him. He suddenly found himself on his feet, his clenched fist satisfyingly making contact with Kieran's cheek.

After his initial shock had worn off, Kieran fought back and had the audacity to be angry. Harry managed to duck out of the way just in time as Kieran swung at him, but wasn't fast enough to get away when Kieran lunged, knocking them both down to the floor. They began rolling around, both of them throwing punches and trying to gain the upper hand. All around them, the magic that Harry had been trying to restrain suddenly burst forth, causing books to fly off the shelves and turning over the furniture. Though neither noticed as Kieran pinned Harry down and landed a few punches to his chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

"Enough," a deep baritone voice broke through the chaos, causing both of them to immediately freeze. After a moment, Kieran quickly got off him and rose to his feet, Harry following suit, both panting and glaring at each other.

When Harry took in the state of the library, his heart dropped, knowing that he had caused this mess. He chanced a glance at Snape and immediately looked away when he saw the deep look of displeasure on the man's face, his dark eyes smoldering.

I'm really going to get it now.

Severus had been brewing an extremely volatile potion, one that required several precisely timed steps, when Mimkey appeared and informed him about what was occurring in the library. Knowing that he would have to start the potion over again later, Severus scowled and vanished the now ruined mixture with a sharp flick of his wand, then stalked to the library. He was certainly not in the mood to deal with a petty teenage fight, already having plenty of those during the school year. He'd expected this would happen sooner or later, but of course, it had to occur at one of the worse possible times.

He had arrived to see the boys rolling on the floor, engaged in what appeared to be a Muggle brawl amongst a library that was in a complete state of disarray. Books were strewn all over the place, pieces of parchment littered the floors, and the furniture overturned.

"What is the meaning of this?" Severus asked in a low dangerous tone once he'd acquired their attention, not bothering to conceal his anger. He fixed both Potter and Kieran with a hard glare, his eyes moving back and forth between them as he waited for an answer. At least they seemed to appear apprehensive, and somewhat contrite.

Good, they should be after what they did to the library.

"Potter started it!" Kieran immediately claimed, jabbing an accusatory finger at Potter before dramatically redirecting it toward his bruised cheek and split lip. "He just suddenly attacked me and punched me in the face!"

Severus looked towards Potter, expecting him to retaliate and refute that statement, but the boy just remained silent, keeping his gaze on his trainers. From what Severus could discern, Potter seemed to have gotten more injuries compared to Kieran, with a cut on his forehead, a black eye, and split lip. Though Potter was holding himself in a completely opposite manner than Kieran, and if Severus was being honest with himself, the meekness from the boy was starting to somewhat concern him. Unlike yesterday's incident, the boy didn't even attempt to give his side of the story this time, as if he thought his words would have no impact on the outcome.

Nothing at all like the brat Severus had known at school. The Potter he knew would have definitely argued back.

Severus released an irritated sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I do not want to hear another word from either of you until we arrive at my study. Am I understood?" He waited until he received a nod from both of them, then sharply turned on his heel and led them out of the library.

Severus had decided to bring them individually into his study for further questioning, knowing he would never be able to get the full story with them together.

Harry trailed after Snape and Kieran, his anxiety and dread growing with each step.

Why did he let his anger get the best of him? Harry just knew he wasn't about to be let off the hook this time. He inwardly shuddered at the thought of Snape doling out punishments like Uncle Vernon's, though it would probably be worse if it involved the use of magic.

Once they reached Snape's study, Snape turned around to face them, giving them both a hard look.

"Both of you are going to come inside and tell me what happened." His dark eyes darted back and forth between them. "Truthfully."

Harry averted his eyes, fiddling with a loose thread on his trousers.

"Kieran, you first," Snape said as he stepped aside and allowed Kieran entry. He shut the door quite forcefully behind them, and then it was silent. Harry figured Snape must have erected a silencing charm.

With a heavy sigh, Harry leaned against the wall and slid down to sit against it, drawing his knees to his chest as he waited. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off and now he was starting to feel the full effects of his injuries. His chest was beginning to ache; the few well placed hits to his chest had hurt his ribs that were still not completely healed yet.

He buried his face in his knees and wondered what Kieran was telling Snape right now. Probably lying about the whole thing, Harry thought bitterly, but Snape's most likely going to believe him. It brought back memories of when he had fought with Dudley and Uncle Vernon never failed to believe Dudley's side of the story, never once giving any thought to Harry's no matter what had happened.

The door opened a few minutes later, and Kieran walked out looking a bit deflated, but he still smirked at Harry when he passed by. It looked like Snape had healed his lip and the bruise on his cheek. Harry just knew he would not be so lucky...

"Potter," Snape called from the doorway.

Harry rose to his feet and warily walked in. He barely managed to suppress a flinch when Snape shut the door behind them and put up the same silencing spell.

"Sit," Snape said, with a sharp gesture at the wooden chair situated in front of his desk.

Harry did, his hands resting nervously on his lap, waiting for the inevitable.

"Now, care to tell me what happened to bring about this fight?" asked Snape as he took his seat and folded his arms over the desk.

Harry blinked in surprise, hardly able to believe that Snape was actually giving him a chance to explain.

Should I just tell him? Is there even a smidgen of a chance that he'll believe me?

Apparently, Snape noticed that Harry was debating with himself. "I want the truth, Potter."

Harry drew in a deep breath, here goes nothing. "Well, I was just doing my assignments in the library and Kieran came in trying to rile me up. He called my mother a..."

"Go on," Snape said when Harry had paused for too long.

"Mudblood," Harry whispered.

Snape's dark eyes flashed.

"And when he almost called her a... a whore. I snapped and punched him," Harry finished, his eyes cast downward, staring at his fidgeting hands on his lap. The ache in his chest was now building with every breath he took, and he was starting to feel lightheaded.

Harry waited for Snape to start telling him off and declaring him a liar, but it never came.

"I see. Anything else?" said Snape, his voice strangely calm, but his eyes were blazing with unmistakeable fury, and Harry unconsciously backed up in his chair.

Maybe he should apologize for the mess he made in the library before he lost the nerve.

"Er, and it was my accidental magic that caused the mess in your library. I'm really sorry, sir. I'll clean it up, if you want me to," Harry said softly, dropping his gaze again when Snape narrowed his eyes and gave him a peculiar look.

"We will discuss punishments later." Snape stood and pulled out a small jar from one of his robe pockets, then gestured at Harry. "Come here."

Harry got up slowly and went to him, his head and chest now protesting to any fast movements. He ignored it, focusing on what Snape was doing instead. When Snape drew his wand and pointed it at him, Harry tensed, unable to hold back a small flinch, but managed to relax slightly as the man simply began healing the cut on Harry's forehead and split lip with smooth motions. He could feel a tingling sensation as the skin knitted itself back together. Then Snape scooped out a small dollop of the salve from the jar with his finger and started applying it onto the bruises.

Harry stood there silently, hardly able to believe how gentle Snape was being at the moment.

Is this how it feels when a parent takes care of you?

He had seen Aunt Petunia healing Dudley's scraped knees when he was little and how gentle she was when she cleaned the wounds and bandaged them. But the same couldn't have been said for Harry because every time he was injured, Aunt Petunia would simply throw a towel at him and tell him to do it himself, coldly warning him to make sure he didn't get any blood on the carpet.

His musings were cut short when his vision suddenly became blurry, and Harry blinked rapidly, hoping to clear it, but it didn't help. His head was throbbing and his chest felt much too tight and heavy.

With a surge of panic, Harry felt his glamour slipping and desperately tried to keep it up, but it was a losing battle.

Darkness was closing in around him, and Harry could barely make out someone calling his name, as if from a great distance. He was vaguely aware of a hand on his shoulder, trying to steady him when he started swaying.

The last thing he saw before everything went dark was a pair of concerned black eyes watching him.

"Harry!"