That very night found Harry in his common room playing a rather miserable game of Wizard’s Chess with Ron. Miserable because he never seemed to get any better at the game. Probably because Ron always tramples me so quickly I never get the chance to practice, he thought sullenly. He had almost suggested Exploding Snap after the last travesty of a game, just to even the playing field, so to speak. But in the end he decided to indulge his friend.

After all, while it had been great for him, Ron was probably used to brilliant Christmases and being with his family. This year he’d had to stay at school, and even Harry knew this probably hadn’t been Ron’s Most Favourite Christmas Ever.

Suddenly he found himself grinning down at the chess board as he thought back on the morning. The hat and mittens had been wonderful, especially as he and Ron attempted to make a snow-model of Hogwarts. The built-in heating charm had been particularly nice, and he had to admit there was something to be said for warm ears – even if the hat had made his hair even messier than usually. Ron had nearly died laughing. Harry wondered if there was such a thing as an anti-static charm.

But the best part of it had been Professor Snape giving him his password. He suspected that it was something the man kept very private, and wondered if even Dumbledore knew it. He couldn’t resist a moment of smugness – he knew that Malfoy wouldn’t know it. He hugged the privilege to himself for a moment.

And it was literally a moment, for then all his joy broke apart in panic.

It was a joke – Snape had played a joke on him. A cruel, mean, trick. That must be what it was – for how on earth was he supposed to even *use* password when he couldn’t speak?

Oh it seemed so obvious. The man was probably down in the dungeons laughing at him right now.

Harry began to shake; although whether it was with rage or with sadness he didn’t know. All he knew is that he had to get down there. He had to see, to confront the man. Oh, how could he have been so stupid?

He sprung up from the board, breathing heavily. He flung some signs in Ron’s direction, who had automatically lifted his head when his friend jumped up in the middle of their game.

“Harry you’ve got to slow down, I can’t follow.”

Harry sucked in more air and tried to remain patient. It was only two simple signs. ‘Go’ and ‘Snape’. He wished his friend would focus. He repeated himself a few times as he moved towards the stairs to the dormitories. Thank the gods for that cloak; it would certainly come in handy now.

As he came back down the stairs, Ron was standing frowning down at the chess board. Probably still contemplating moves. Once he spotted Harry though, he moved forward with a quill and parchment. “Humour me mate, explain a bit before you run off.”

Harry sighed with exasperation. He needed to get out of here. He needed to know. However he paused long enough to scratch out an explanation and show it to his friend.

‘I think part of my Christmas present from Snape was a mean trick. I have to go talk to him.’ He couldn’t explain further, Ron wasn’t to know that he had the password.

“Really?! What a git! I'm really sorry, Harry.”

Harry didn’t reply, he just donned his cloak and headed out the door. As he was leaving he heard the heavy sigh of his friend behind him.

He ran most of the way to the dungeons, but found himself screeching to a halt at the beginning of the corridor that led to Snape’s quarters. He felt no need to rush forward to face the reality that he hade been made a fool of. The idea of standing in front of that portrait, of having no way of using the password his teacher had given him, froze his innards.

But the idea of delaying the inevitable spurred him on and he continued to make his approach, heels dragging all the way.

And then he saw it. His heart leapt to his throat and was beating so fast he thought it might jump out his mouth. There, attached to the bottom of the portrait’s frame was a folded piece of parchment with the words “Mr. Potter” written across it.

Oh god. Was he writing to mock him? To call him foolish and arrogant to think that Snape would ever give a freak like him the password? Slipping off his cloak he reached with a shaking hand to take the note, but it wouldn’t budge. It did unfold itself, however, and Harry found himself in awe of the magic despite his gripping anxiety.

Eyesight blurring, he slowly made out the writing.

It wasn’t a trick. Those very words played over and over in Harry’s brain as he plucked out a quill and began to write the password in question. Itwasn’tatrickitwasn’tatrickitwasn’tatrick. It was like receiving the gift all over again. Not to mention the fact that his professor had had to go out of his way to charm a parchment so that he would have access.

A warm feeling settled in his chest, driving away all the fear. He wished he could bottle it. Heck, he’d be satisfied with being able to *name* it. He watched, mesmerised, as the ink disappeared, until the click of the door opening broke him out of the spell.

He wanted to run to the man, to thank him again as the relief washed over him. But instinct told the boy that Snape would not like this; that any perceived “gushing” would make him regret his gift. So instead he simply gathered his cloak in his hands and walked through the door.

His teacher was not in the work room. Harry paused, unsure of what to do. Every other time he had been there to let him in. Likely the man was just in the sitting room, but he felt odd wandering through the quarters unaccompanied.

Before he had a chance to talk himself around to moving forward, a distant voice called out.

“Don’t hover like a moth, Potter. Come into the sitting room.”

And so he did.

It was his second night there that week, which meant that Snape would be imposing he “2 nights per week rule” thereafter. Harry found it surprisingly difficult to abide; he would have stayed there every night if he thought he could get away with it. He even gathered the courage a few hours later to ask the professor to put the rule aside for the holidays.

He almost thought he’d get his way when his teacher set down the parchment and gave him an odd look. A long, odd look.

He only began to feel uncomfortable when the man gestured for him to come sit beside him on the couch. When adults did that it usually meant something serious. So he walked over and sat precariously on the edge of the cushions. Snape arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. At least not on that subject. No, what he said was much, much worse.

“Indulge me. Why is it that you want to stay here so often?”

He shrugged, not meeting the man’s eyes. His avoidance didn’t seem to work, and Snape’s voice only got sterner as he spoke again.

“I have not asked much of you in return for your staying here, Mr. Potter.” Harry winced at the last. Funny how Snape using his last name never bothered him before. Sighing, he took the parchment he teacher was shaking at him.

‘I like staying here because I feel safe here.’

“You do not feel safe elsewhere in the castle? Why is here any different?”

He really didn’t want to do this. Why was Snape asking him to bare his feelings like this? It wasn’t fair! If that was what he wanted in return for staying here, well then maybe Harry wouldn’t stay here at all!

Oh, who was he kidding? With all the nightmares, the flashes of the bathroom, of his cupboard, of Uncle Vernon and the boy who had called him pretty - in that tone – well if he was honest, all he wanted to do was stay down here forever, to fall asleep in his chair every night.

Maybe if he tried, maybe then….

But all he could manage to write at first was ‘Do I have to?’ He blushed as he handed it over, knowing that Snape would hear the whine in it.

But all the man said, to Harry’s great surprise, was “Please.”

It was not really a request, and it was not soft, nor kind. But it was still ‘please’, and Harry still secretly thought of it as ‘the magic word’. Which was funny now that he knew so many real ones. But this had been the first, and he was powerless against it. And so he wrote.

Again. He was slower this time, because it was harder. And truth be told, because his hand was shaking a little bit. But he did it.

‘I feel safest here because you’re here. You’re big, and a little scary, and no one would dare hurt me in front of you. Maybe not even my Uncle.’

He swallowed hard as he handed it over, and watched as Snape’s eyes tracked his words. And saw, with utmost embarrassment, when the man gave a slight chuckle. That was all he needed, to be laughed at! He couldn’t bear it, so he dashed across the room grabbed his cloak and flung it over himself. He needed to hide.

Once he’d settled on the floor, arms around his knees, he chanced a glance over to the other side of the room. His teacher was staring at the spot where he had disappeared with wide eyes. After a moment Snape took his wand and closed and locked all the doors. Harry felt himself tense a bit, but willed his body to relax. He wasn’t in danger; he knew that. He was just deathly humiliated.

He watched as Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He heard him speak very quietly, obviously to himself, saying, “At least I didn’t drive you into the closet this time.”

After a moment where it appeared he was collecting himself he spoke again, but clearly for Harry.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, foolish child. It was simply the fact that you called me ‘big’. I am hardly a large man, as these things go. Although I will give you ‘scary’.” He said with a smirk of pride.

Squaring his shoulders he stood and moved, very slowly, to the footstool near where Harry was crouched. He sat so close Harry could have reached out and touched his boot.

“I’ve said it before, but perhaps it bears repeating. I am sorry that you don’t feel safe here at Hogwart’s. And, although if you ever repeat this I will only deny it, I am flattered that you find my presence consoling. I do understand why you are asking to increase your stays here.”

“But I still must deny your request.”

Harry bit down on his cheek, hard. He scrunched his eyes closed and held his breath, as if by denying the tears and sobs any way of exiting his body it meant he wasn’t really upset. Thus, he did not notice the thin, pale hand reach out and pull the invisibility cloak away.

“Look at me please.” The magic word again, so undeniable. He looked up to find his freedom, his tool for hiding, bunched in the hands of the man sitting before him. He felt naked.

“Do you want to know why, Harry?” He slammed his eyes shut again and shook his head manically back and forth. He could not bear to face the rejection.

He felt Snape stand and leave the room, and his heart sunk lower than his feet. What was wrong with him? It felt like he was 5 years old again, and Aunt Petunia had just tossed his blanket – the only reminder of his parents - in the rubbish.

Then he saw the familiar boots again, and forced himself to suck in a harsh breath.

“Come.” He was guided to the footstool and handed a vial. Snape must have seen the question in his eyes. “It is not a calming draught. Quite the opposite, in fact. It will cause you to release all the emotions you are clearly trying to hold in. Calming draughts have their purpose, but there is no need for forced calm here.”

Release his emotions?! He didn’t like the sound of that, and made a move to give the vial back. Thin fingers wrapped around his hand, stopping him.

“You are correct, you know. You are safe here.”

With that, he tipped the potion into his mouth. It was mere moments for it to take effect, and he found himself sobbing horribly. Snape made quick work of the situation; he removed Harry’s glasses and handed him a handkerchief. He also removed the empty potions vial, but not, Harry noticed, his own hand, which was still wrapped around Harry’s fingers. He couldn’t help himself, he clutched at the man’s hand as if he could squeeze human compassion from it like an orange.

“You must know, first, that my unwillingness to change the rule is nothing personal. It there for you. You need to be a part of your house and a part of this school above and beyond attending classes. Hogwart’s is structured the way it is to build a community among the students.”

Harry began to calm, and swiped at his eyes. Snape continued, “Even if I was your ---“ his tongue seemed to get caught in his throat, and the small wizard watched in fascination as the man restated, “Even if your parents were on staff you would still be required to stay in your house dorms. It is just the way things are.”

He thought about the half truth in those words as he picked up his quill to reply, unconsciously echoing Snape’s earlier words.

‘But it’s the holidays. If you were – if my parents were teachers, surely I’d be able to stay with them over the hols?’

“Yes, that is true, but I’m not – they’re not – it’s just not the same, Potter!”

He replied the only way he knew how. With 3 signs. The first two were his special sign for Snape, the third ‘Please.’

A sigh, and a squeeze to his fingers. “Very well then. But only for the remainder of the holidays. Then you return to your dorm and the old rule applies."

Harry grinned in relief. Apparently the magic word worked on Snape, too.