Potter followed him silently down to the dungeons and into his personal sitting rooms. Severus hadn't planned on any company this evening, and hence had no plans for what to do with the boy. He had not expected, however, for the boy to take a seat on the floor and tuck himself into a corner to read his book.

There's a perfectly good chair just in front of my work table. And just why is he so obsessed with that bloody book?

Taking a pile of essays, the older wizard attempted to work, but he found himself glancing up every few minutes at the child. Finally, he broke.

"Potter." The boy's book clattered to the floor as he jumped to attention, his back to the corner. After a moment he seemed to remember where he was and what was expected of him, and he shot a defensive glare at his teacher.

Snape chose to ignore this, as well as the boy's more disturbing reaction. They could deal with that later. "The chair is here for a reason. I'd prefer you didn't sit on the floor."

Harry trudged over to the chair, book clutched tightly against his chest. He dragged his feet on the way, but did not hesitate to take the offered seat. Snape almost laughed at the sight of him. While he still radiated annoyance and defiance, he sat clutching that book as if it was a life preserver, and was curled in on himself in a clearly defensive state. It was almost sad.

"You can relax, Potter. No one is going to take your book from you."

Harry looked down at the book in his hands as if he hadn't given it much thought, and then reached over and set it down on the table in front of him in an effort to show his was not bothered. Severus took this as the offering it was, and made one of his own.

"For mercy's sake, uncurl yourself! You are not a pretzel!" Harry did as he was told with a knowing smile. He stayed for another hour, flipping through his book before Snape conjured a glass of warm milk and sent him on his way. Harry flipped two signs as him on his way out the door. [Thank you, teacher]. Snape acknowledged neither.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Despite his teacher's efforts to help him sleep, Harry spent the next several days feeling like a zombie. Restful sleep was eluding him and it was becoming difficult to concentrate. He struggled through every class, finally losing the battle in the middle of potions class. His eyes had barely shut when Ron poked him, hissing "Harry! Wake up!" But he just couldn't do it.

Until, that is, he heard Professor Snape's voice low and dangerous, in his ear.

"Are you sleeping in my class, Mr. Potter?"

The boy struggled to open his eyes and at least had the decency to look embarrassed. But then his eyes were drifting shut again. Snape's wand came crashing down on the desk with a loud snap.

"Wake up!" he roared.

For a moment he thought he had taken things a step too far. Potter's eyes were certainly open, but now they were fearful and somewhat - wet. But before he could be forced to rectify the situation, the Weasley boy jumped to his friend's defense.

"It's not his fault! He has nightmares. Wakes up hollering every night."

Any tears were long forgotten as Harry kicked Ron - hard. He hadn't wanted anyone to know, but especially not Snape.

"Is this true, Mr. Potter?" Turning his attention back to the professor, he saw the man staring at him, eyebrow raised in question. He couldn't lie, no matter how much he wanted to. Not to the man's face. So he just nodded and cast his eyes down at his parchment. Or he tried to. A second later the handle end of Snape's wand was under his chin gently tilting his face up.

"Look at me, Potter." His voice was hard, so Harry obeyed. There was a sneer in place, but when he finally met the Professor's eyes he didn't immediately recognize the look he found there. Snape's eyes raked over his face quickly, as if he was looking for something. Harry hoped he hadn't found it.

"See me after class, Potter."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

And so it was that Snape found himself in his personal quarters that evening waiting for The-Overtired-and-Underfed-Boy-Who-Lived. He had given Potter a detention with the instructions to show at his quarters at 8:00 p.m. with a written explanation of his nightmares. They were going to get to the bottom of this.

The boy was maddeningly prompt, as usual. After gesturing towards the chair, Potter took what was quickly becoming his usual spot and handed him a piece of parchment.

'Aren't I supposed to be scrubbing cauldrons?'

"Potter, contrary to popular belief, I did not ask you here as a punishment." Those damned green eyes widened in surprise.

"You are obviously having trouble sleeping. You need to talk to someone, Harry."

Perhaps he didn't even recognise his actions, but Snape looked across the table to find the boy staring at him with a perfect imitation of the potion master's own trademark smirk and eyebrow raise. Clearly they were spending too much time in each other's company.

"It was a figure of speech, Potter." And with that the boy began to shudder with silent laughter. "Will you calm yourself or are you going to break into undignified giggles every time I say anything about talking?"

Harry placed a hand over his mouth and schooled his face into seriousness, none too successfully.

"Have you written down what your nightmares are about like I asked?" The serious look was far more convincing now. The small wizard reached into his robes with only a slightly shaky hand and passed it to his teacher. He fiddled with his school tie while he waited for the man to finish reading. It seemed like it took years.

"So it's as I thought - about the attack. That's perfectly understandable Mr. Potter. It was a vicious attack, especially against one so young. But the culprits will be caught. Dumbledore is getting closer every day. It should be fairly easy to find them once we check all the student files for someone with the matching personal information that you indicated. And if I have anything to say about it they will all be expelled the minute they are found."

Harry began to write again. 'It's too hard to sleep not knowing who they are. What if they're in Gryffindor and they get me in the middle of the night?'

Snape closed his eyes and remained still for a moment after reading that. Had what he said angered the man?

"I'm sorry you don't feel safe in your own house, Harry." A shrug in response. "It's not all right. Hogwart's is your home, and it's important you know that."

Severus had to get up and move towards his potions stores, slightly embarrassed at his own sentimentality. After a moment he felt a tug on his sleeve, and Potter proffered up yet another piece of parchment.

'Can I stay here and read for a bit before I go back up to the tower? I promise not to be a bother.'

Giving a terse nod in response, the Professor watched as Potter gave a small smile and went back to his chair. Shaking himself out of his reverie, Snape followed to his own chair and set to work marking papers. Soon the only sounds in the room were the scratch of his quill and the swish as Potter turned the pages of his book.

And then, an hour or so later, Severus noted that the swishing had stopped. He looked up and swallowed a rather large curse. The brat had the nerve to fall asleep! How dare he! First he invaded my private space and now there he was - but by then he had run out of steam.

He could wake him up and send him off to Gryffindor tower, but chances were the boy would never get back to sleep. But was that really *his* problem? The boy looked rather pathetic, sleeping there with his glasses askew and the book still open on his lap. At the very least he had a duty to help as a staff member of Hogwart's.

Taking a deep breath he set the book on the work table and the bent down and scooped the child into his arms. He paused momentarily to see if the boy would wake at the movement, but all that happened was the boy's head lolling against his chest.

He approached the second room and shifted Harry only slightly as opened the door and stepped in. He hadn't used the room in several years, and shifted his body weight yet again so that he could grab his wand and cast a freshening charm on the bed.

Once that was accomplished he was finally able to set his far too light burden down. And then he just stood there. He wasn't actually at a loss - he exactly what needed to be done. But what did he care if the boy slept in his uniform? Or at least that's what he was asking himself as he removed the boy's glasses and then sat him up to remove his tie and shoes. Once he had all the gratuitous extras removed and set aside, Harry was left in just his shirt and pants. Those were easily transfigured into pyjamas.

Pulling the covers loosely up over the boy he moved towards the door.

"Goodnight Mr. Potter."