"And so I suggest that you keep an eye on things and not allow them to escalate and. . ." Professor McGonagall stopped and looked at her companion. Holding back a sigh, she shook her head knowing by the look of the man he had heard nothing of the last few minutes rant. "Severus!"

Snape looked up, his eyes focusing on the witch in the other chair across the desk. "Yes?"

"You have not heard a word of what I have said, have you?"

A light snort was the first answer followed by the typical Snape attitude. "Oh course I have, Minerva. It would be impossible to ignore one of your speeches. I've tried."

The look that was sent his way would have reduced any student in Hogwarts to a whimpering child and indeed had nearly the same effect on Severus Snape. The Potions Master dropped his head, appearing for all the world like a contrite schoolboy called on the carpet over some misdeed.

Satisfied that she had made her point without a word, the stern witch eyed Snape thoughtfully. "You've had another dream, haven't you?"

Why did she have to be so bloody perceptive? Or know him so well? Severus wondered not for the first time. Still not meeting McGonagall's eye, he nodded and responded quietly, "Yes. Last night."

Giving vent to her sigh now, Minerva softened her tone a bit, the action alone showing her true concern for the younger man. "Why do you have to be so stubborn, Severus? Why continue to fight it?"

"Because!" he snapped, and then immediately berated himself for the stupidity and childishness of that answer. By Merlin's beard, this woman could always make him feel like a misbehaving lad and it frustrated Snape no end.

"Because it's Potter," McGonagall supplied. At the expected nod her tone sharpened again. "And it is because it is Potter that you need to answer the call," she stated. "Harry is not James, Severus. I doubt that he ever will have the same capacity for spitefulness that James had. You have only to look at the boy, and I mean REALLY look," she clarified, "and you would know the truth." Taking a deep breath, Minerva said what needed to be said and hoped for the best.  "The past can't be changed, the future can be. Stop hiding, Severus."

The dark head shot up and Snape glared daggers at the woman. "How dare you," he hissed, half rising from the chair. "I do not hide!!"

"I dare because I care." The statement was simple and Minerva met Snape's angry eyes. "And you do. Until you reconcile things within yourself, Severus, accept them and move on to better things that are available, there will forever be two hurt young boys that need someone."

"I think this meeting is over. If you have anything else to say on the topic which you called me here for originally then I will see if I can make time for another meeting. But I will not discuss this topic to which you have deviated again. Good afternoon, McGonagall." Snape stood and swept from the room, robes swirling behind him.

Shaking her head at the departure, Minerva sighed deeply.

s s s s s s s s s s  

Who does she think she is?? Snape fumed to himself as he stormed back to the dungeons. Telling me that I hide! Implying that I am still a child! The Potions Master had to catch himself and not slam the door of his office. And all this because of the bloody Brat-That-Lived!

Snape paced the floor, his mind going over and over not only what Minerva had said but a thousand other memories that seemed to fight their way through his normal defenses. Memories of a sad little boy huddled in a corner, dark eyes imploring someone to love him. Memories of an older child sitting alone, pretending to study, while watching the fun of his classmates with longing eyes. Memories of a youth whose face revealed nothing of the inner hurt, only the eyes spoke of a pain that went deep.

Always the eyes were the key. And now as he thought about things, the eyes changed from a set of black ones to a pair of green ones. Eyes shining from behind glasses. Eyes that were confused. Eyes that were lonely. Eyes that in the dream seemed to look at his very soul and silently beg to be recognized.

And that was the problem. Snape knew all to well the look and what it meant, what it asked for and wanted. And he wasn't the man to give it.

s s s s s s s s s s

Harry sighed and rubbed his hand. Looking over at Ron he inquired, "How much?'

"A good eight inches left," Ron answered miserably. "You?"

"About six," Harry responded, looking down at the parchment again. A short essay, Professor McGonagall had called it. The boy wondered how two feet of writing could be considered short. Then again, Harry frowned, it was short by comparison to Snape's four and five footers.

"We'll never make it by in the morning," Ron whined. "We'll be up all night."

Harry very nearly commented that was a good thing, but held his tongue and just nodded. He wasn't going to reveal his secret to Ron, but in truth Harry Potter would have been all too happy to stay up all night. If he were awake then the nightmares couldn't come. And they had been happening nearly every night now and it seemed to the boy that more and more details were revealed with each one. Details that he could live without just fine, thank you. Not only the sights and sounds were clearer now, but also there were smells. And feelings. It was the feelings that were perhaps the worse. The fear, the hatred, the deep sadness. . .all of them seemed to nearly suffocate Harry. But there was something more now. Harry wasn't exactly sure what it was, but it was there. Sighing, he went back to work on his essay.

s s s s s s s s s s

Snape laid aside the book and rose from the chair. It was late, even for him. But the Potions Master had hoped to be weary enough to sink into a deep sleep which did not allow for dreams. Snape, above all, knew the dangers of becoming addicted to potions and had attempted to use the Dreamless Sleep sparingly.

Going to his bedroom, he made ready for sleep and climbed into bed, adding a silent plea that tonight be a normal night of sleep. No potions. No dreams. Just blissful rest.

Unfortunately it was not to be.

s s s s s s s s s s

Whimpers shook the small body. He could feel the bad man's meanness; his hatred. His mother was scared too but she was acting brave. But Harry knew it would do no good. He wanted to stop what was happening, warn his mother, push her out of harms way. But it was too late. The green flash came and with it the screams of both his mother and himself. Then the bad man started toward him and Harry shrunk back. And then there was movement at the door again. A figure. . .a man. . .stood there. With a slight cry, Harry reached toward the man, instinctively feeling that if they could only touch, he would be safe. But the man stayed where he was. Crying now, Harry tried to make the man come to him, begging silently for help. The man shifted briefly. Was he going to. . .? Oh please! Help me! Harry thought. But no. As before the man turned and disappeared.

This time the sobs couldn't be held back as Harry fought himself out of the nightmare. He had been so close. There had been a moment where he had been sure that he had someone to help him. But once again he had been left alone. And the boy felt it keenly this time. Not just left. . .rejected.

Turning his face into his pillow, Harry Potter sobbed his heart out.

s s s s s s s s s s

NO!!! Inwardly, Severus Snape raged even as he threw back the bedcovers and got to his feet. Not bothering to dress this time, he seized his dressing gown and belted around his waist on the way to his favorite chair. Sitting down, he gazed into the fire.

This couldn't go on. He had to find a way to counteract it. There MUST be a way, regardless of what that old fool Dumbledore said. He knew full well that he couldn't hold out much longer. Snape snorted even as he thought it. Severus Snape succumbing to Harry Potter. The wizard who could take some of the Dark Lord's worse curses without a whimper, could writhe in pain but never break. He who had known the meaning of hurt from earliest childhood. And now he was nearly ready to give up? No, Snape would not, could not, allow it to happen.

Yet tonight. . .tonight he had found those eyes on him again. Their piercing green gaze going deep, into his soul. The plea for help, while silent, so strong and loud it cancelled out anything else for a moment. And in that moment he had moved. Had started lifting his hand. Had almost gone too far. No, never could he bridge that gap. There had to be way to end this.

Pulling his gaze from the fire, Snape eyed his bookshelves. Somewhere out there was a book, a manuscript that would help him win this fight without giving in. And he would find it! Going to the shelves, Snape pulled out a volume and settled himself to read.