Harry sat staring at the food on his plate. Somehow he had managed half a slice of toast and he thought he was doing good with that. No way was he up to bacon and eggs this morning. Not with the first Quidditch match of the year. . .and Harry's first EVER. . .loaming in a mere few hours.

"You'll be brilliant," Ron tried to reassure him. "Fred and George said you're more than ready."

"And you can't fly on an empty stomach," Hermione added. "You need to have a little more, Harry."

"Hermione, if I have a little more, I will empty my stomach," Harry stated as he pushed the plate away. Hermione wrinkled her nose at the thought, but fortunately didn't press him further.

"What if I don't catch the snitch?" Harry fretted. "What if I don't even SEE it? What if I fall off my broom?"

Ron snorted at the ideas. "What if we beat the crap out of Slytherin because of you?" he countered.

Harry swallowed. Yeah there was that too, he thought to himself. If they beat Slytherin would Snape become even more hateful toward him? His eyes unconsciously went to the head table, but the Potions Master was not in his usual seat.

"Good luck today, Potter. You will need it," a silky voice spoke from behind the trio, causing Ron to jump and spill his pumpkin juice everywhere. As he and Hermione set about wiping it up, Snape smirked down at them.

Frowning, Harry looked up and answered with much more bravery and conviction than he felt. "Why should I need luck? I have skill."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "We shall see." With that, he stalked away, robes billowing behind him.

"Bloody hell," Ron spoke up as soon as the Potions Master was out of earshot. "That greasy git shouldn't sneak up on people like that!"

"He shouldn't do a lot of things he does," Harry responded as he stood up. "I'd best get going. Wood wants us all there early. See you guys later."

Taking his leave was easy. Turning his thoughts away from Snape proved to be harder. Harry's statement to Ron was more cryptic than the others knew. True it had been over a week since the troll incident, but it had been a confusing week to the boy. While he could somewhat accept his punishment at the hands of Snape, even though he still didn't think it was totally fair, Harry was mystified by the dreams. Or rather lack of them now. He had slept better the last few days than he had in weeks. But what had it all meant? Why had Snape of all people been in his dreams? Why was HE Harry's protector? It made no sense to the boy. Snape hated him. Didn't he? And Harry returned the feeling. Didn't he? The Potions Master was a snide as ever with him. Nothing had really changed. Or had it?

Harry shook his head to try to clear it. Here he was headed to his first Quidditch match. He needed to concentrate on that and only that. There was no room for thoughts of Snape and how confused he had felt since Halloween night.

Entering the Gryffindor dressing area, Harry found Wood and the twins already there and as the other team members arrived and talk of the upcoming game was the center of things, all other thoughts slowly receded and Harry was back to feeling decidedly nervous. As the stands filled with noisy students and the excitement level rose, Fred and George tried to joke Harry out of his nervousness, but it really didn't help much. Then Wood's comment that he had been equally as nervous before his first match and later woke in the hospital wing did nothing to reassure Harry as he exited with his teammates and took to the air.

s s s s s s s s s s

In the teacher's box, Snape sat unmoving, seemingly unaffected by the game at all other than a slight smile when his snakes scored. But the moment Potter's broom begin to pitch every nerve in the man's body reacted. He straightened almost imperceptibly but his eyes focused on the boy as he began muttering a counter curse. There was some strong magic involved in the curse, and Snape growled inwardly. He would deal with the curse maker later. For now the important thing was keeping the brat safe. And unknown to his colleague, Severus Snape would NOT allow harm to come to Harry Potter, regardless.

"Fire!" the shout was barely registered by the Potions Master until his arm was shaken and his attention broken. Looking down at the fire licking the hem of his robes, he quickly extinguished it. But his scowl deepened. His concentration had been broken. Quickly, but in a way that would not bring notice to himself, his eyes sought Potter and it was with a feeling of relief he found the brat was now on his broom once more and appearing unharmed and carefree once again. Little idiot, Snape thought. Of course he didn't realize how close he had come to being seriously hurt. Likely he thought someone would save him since he was the blasted brat-who-lived. And now, judging by the grin on the young face, Potter undoubtedly felt that HE had managed to regain control of the broom on his own and thus would be more arrogant than even. The Potions Master snorted. Just what he needed!

s s s s s s s s s s

He couldn't believe it! He had done it! He'd caught the snitch and won the game! Well okay, so he hadn't caught it in the more traditional way, Harry grinned to himself, but still, it counted. And now he was being treated to a celebratory party in the Gryffindor common room. Things were great!

"I can't believe that Snape would hex your broom."

Harry paused with a custard tart halfway to his mouth. Scratch that. Things HAD been great. Leave it to Hermione to remind him of something other than the glorious feeling of catching the snitch.

"Well, I can believe it!" Ron declared as he crammed more chocolate in his mouth. "That slimy creep would do anything. He was just cheating so his team would win. He doesn't care if Harry gets hurt."

"Yes he does," Harry said without thinking and then shrugged as his two friends looked at him in utter shock.

"Have you drunk some of the stuff the twins were handing out?" Ron inquired, looking at Harry as though he'd suddenly grown two heads. "This is SNAPE we're talking about! Why would he care? And why would YOU think he would??"

Harry was at a loss for a second as Hermione looked at him in puzzlement as well. "I just meant, well he's a teacher, right? None of the teachers want us hurt," he offered.

Ron scoffed, "I don't think Snape counts as a normal teacher. And especially where you're concerned."

"Ron's right, Harry," Hermione put in and it was Harry's turn to look in wonder at his friend who was now talking against a teacher. "And don't look at me like that," she stated, noting the look. "It's true. Anyone can see that Professor Snape doesn't like you. And I know a hex when I see one. He was staring right at you and muttering. You would have fallen if I hadn't used the fire spell."

"Yeah, I know. I can't thank you enough, 'Mione," Harry smiled at the girl. "It was pretty scary there for a few minutes."

Hermione flushed a bit and nodded. "You're welcome. It was a simple thing really. But from now on, I think we'd best keep a closer eye on Professor Snape." The two boys nodded in agreement.

s s s s s s s s s s

"He could have fallen!"

Dumbledore and McGonagall shared a smile as they watched Severus Snape pace the floor in the Headmaster's private chambers.

"And you think that would have been bad?" Dumbledore questioned, his eyes twinkling madly. "I had no idea you would be so worried about a student, particularly that student, Severus."

The Potions Master whirled and glared at the older wizard. "You know damn well I don't want to see any of the brats truly hurt, Albus!" he ranted.

With a slight smile, Dumbledore nodded. "I know, my boy. Calm down."

"I'll calm down when you stop deliberately winding me up," Severus muttered, but he did at least stalk back over to the chair he had vacated earlier, though he still did not resume his seat.

"You are sure that it was Quirrel?" McGonagall spoke up.

Snape nodded. "Yes. I warned you both that there was something odd about him this year."

"He has no reason to harm the boy," the Headmaster commented.

"But he tried!" Snape pointed out. "And you sat there and did nothing, Albus! Where you planning to just watch him fall?"

"Severus," Minerva admonished sternly at the accusatory tone in the younger man's voice.

"And you!" the dark haired wizard turned on the witch. "You allowed him to play! I told you that he was too young! But no, all you thought about was winning. Now the brat very nearly was hurt because of your greed!"

"Severus Tobias Snape, that is enough!" Minerva rose and glared at the Potions Master. "I will not be spoken to in such a way."

"Truth hurt, Minerva?" Snape sneered.

Minerva moved closer, her eyes glinting dangerously.

"Enough! Both of you!" Dumbledore roared. "Sit down." The stern command had the duo complying though the glares were still firmly in place.

"Now then," Dumbledore began, "Minerva is a good judge of things, Severus, and if she believes that Harry is capable of playing, then I trust her." Ignoring the snort from the younger wizard, the Headmaster continued. "As for doing it because it gave her house a chance to win, well one could very well argue that you want the boy off the team so as to benefit your own house. Without the threat, Slytherin could easily win again."

"That's not true," Snape declared angrily. "This is not about winning the Quidditch cup."

"I agree," McGonagall remarked. "I think that Harry is a natural and I will not deny that I would love to take the cup away from you. But to do so at the peril of a student. . ." she fixed a stern gaze on Snape. "The very idea of accusing me of such a thing, Severus."

Snape sighed and lowered his eyes. "You're right, Minerva. You wouldn't risk one of your precious gryffins, especially not that one."

McGonagall shook her head at the comment, but she knew that it was as close to an apology as she was likely to get from Severus Snape. "I share your concern over this incident, Severus. And I would not have allowed Harry to come to harm. Had he slipped off the broom, he would have been caught by a floating charm and lowered down gently."

Nodding, Snape looked up again. "But the fact that it happened means we will have to keep a closer eye on him. And on Quirrel." His two colleagues nodded.

s s s s s s s s s s

Harry lay in bed staring up at the darkness. It was late and his body was tired, yet his mind wasn't giving him a chance to rest. After the party finally wound down a bit and he had retired to the dorm, Harry had thought over all the events of the day.

Both Ron and Hermione were still certain that Snape was the one responsible for the broom going out of control. And Harry had to admit it made sense. Snape hated him and had shown it plenty of times in the short weeks that Harry had been at Hogwarts. And what was that Snape had said that very morning? That Harry would need luck. Of course nearly everything the Potions Master said could be construed as sinister, but the boy had to wonder at the meaning of the words. Had Snape just been wishing him well with his usual snideness? Or was it more? Had he really planned to try to win the match by hurting Harry?

But despite the fact that it seemed Snape had been the cause of things, Harry couldn't shake the inner feeling that the man would never truly harm him. He knew that his friends would think him absolute nutters. Heck, he wondered about it himself! There was no way to explain it other than just a feeling. And. . .the memory of Halloween night.

There was the memory of being over Snape's lap and being punished for putting himself in danger. Harry swallowed hard. He hadn't told anyone else about that of course, but deep down the boy had pondered the feeling it caused. Not the initial pain to his bottom, but the deeper feeling. The feeling that for the first time in his young life someone cared at least in part about what happened to him.

Curling up on his side and wrapping his arms around his pillow, Harry let himself remember the rest of that night. The dream. And the feelings he had had when Snape reached out and took his hand. It had been a feeling that was unexplainable, at least by Harry. But he had known instinctively that he was safe. That he had someone with him. Someone to care.

With a deep sigh, Harry closed his eyes. He couldn't help it. The day had been long and stressful and regardless of unsolved mysteries, he was falling asleep. He would look for answers tomorrow.

s s s s s s s s s s

Snape thought about the events of the day, the talk with the Headmaster and McGonagall, the fact that the Potter brat had nearly been harmed. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes. He needed to rest, not try to analyze things. Yet when he tried to relax, Snape couldn't help but see again the small figure hanging precariously to the boom handle, dangling and ready to fall any second.

s s s s s s s s s

The dream was different. For one thing it started out wonderful. Harry was always happy when he was flying and he found that the thrill and excitement he felt in reality were just as sharp in his dream. It was exhilarating to soar through the air without a care in the world.

Something whizzed past Harry's ear. Oops! Scratch that! Apparently he did have a care. The glint of gold recalled what he was supposed to be doing and Harry took off in pursuit of the snitch.

He was closing in on it. He was within feet. He was. . suddenly thrown from his violently bucking broom. No! Not again! The boy thought to himself. Clinging with one hand to the slim wooden handle, Harry felt the sudden fear grip him again just as it had earlier during the game. Help! He called out silently. Help me! Please! The broom continued to twitch. He was going to fall!!

He had always been terrified of falling. Ever since. . .

The background of sky and clouds disappeared. Instead Harry found himself in an all too familiar house with an all too familiar person. A person who loathed him.

Uncle Vernon was furious. Harry hadn't meant to trip over the cord. It had just happened because his feet were too small for Dudley's oversized shoes. Now his uncle was raging at him for inadvertently unplugging the alarm clock in Dudley's room while he was vacuuming the day before. It had caused Dudley to oversleep and miss his favorite program on the telly.

The hulking man dragged the small seven year old Harry to the stairs and started towing him along down them to the cupboard. Harry protested that it had been an accident. It was the wrong thing to do as Vernon jerked the boy forward and gave him a rough shove.

Harry was falling. Falling headlong down the stairs. No, not the stairs this time, he realized as Number 4 Privet Drive seemed to fade into nothingness, leaving instead open sky above him and the ground far beneath once more.

He was even further up than a mere few steps now, high above the Quidditch stadium. And he had lost his grip on the broom. With a wild, but silent yell, Harry felt himself tumbling downward.

Only he never hit. Suddenly it was if he were floating. The boy was amazed when he landed lightly on his feet on the ground. He looked around in confusion. Then for the first time Harry spotted another person in his dream. Snape. The Potions Master stood to the side, arms crossed, wand held between two slim fingers, and glaring at the boy. With a final scowl, Snape whirled and walked away, disappearing in a swirl of robes behind the Quidditch stands.