Snape drew himself up, obviously not used to people interrupting him -- recalling his one experience at doing so filled Harry with a fair amount of fear -- and nodded once, a mere jerk of the head. "As you say, sir." He rose from his chair and turned to Harry. "My apologies, Mr. Potter, for keeping you from your rest. Good night."

He turned in a swirl of robes and left the Infirmary in several long strides.

Severus did not meet personally with Harry again for several weeks. He wondered if the boy was avoiding him. It seemed very possible, after the mess he had made of things in the Infirmary. Arguing with the Headmaster, of all things. When he had become so frustrated he was on the verge of hexing the Old Coot, he had had to leave before doing anything of the sort. What must the boy think of him?

He had met with the Headmaster twice more since their argument in the Infirmary, and seemed no closer to an agreement than before. But he would not allow Albus to have his way this time! Not without him giving in with regard to Harry's summers. One way or the other, he would get the boy away from those horrid Muggles, especially if he was expected to put the added strain of Occlumens training on Harry's mind.

The week after his vision, Harry had completed his two hours of ingredient preparations as agreed, but did not ask to see any more pictures of his mother. And Severus had not even seen him since except for brief glimpses in the Great Hall at most meal times -- at least the boy was eating -- or in class. Yet, after each lesson, Harry packed his materials and fled, looking pale and stressed, and as if frightened he might be asked to stay behind. But since his work was up to standards, Severus had no reason to keep him. He did not think telling the boy he merely wanted to see how he doing would get the results he wanted.

He had assumed Harry would come to him, wanting to see more pictures of Lily, but perhaps he had been overwhelmed by the whole experience. After all, Severus had real memories of Lily, and Harry did not. The way he had called out to his mother, and tried to get her picture to acknowledge him, had nearly broken Severus heart. Maybe Harry did not want to put himself through that pain anymore, and Severus could hardly blame him.

But why should the boy avoid him? He had thought they were finally reaching a level of rapport where Harry would confide in him, and, if he could bear to admit, he found he missed the boy's quiet company as he worked on assignments or helped him with potion ingredients. What had changed?

Around the end of November, he finally decided to ask the Bloody Baron about it.

"Harry Potter has much on his mind, Severus Snape," the ghost intoned, once Severus explained his concerns. "You would do well to remember that."

Severus could not suppress a sneer, disliking being called out again by this ghost. "Like what? What has he told you?"

"He admits he still has his nightmares, of course, including a new one that seems to cause him great anguish. He spoke to me of the vision he had of happenings in the Forbidden Forest and the death of the unicorn. And, too, he said the Headmaster wishes him to learn Occlumency. The prospect frightened him, naturally, especially as he has had to discover on his own what the term meant." The ghost paused, and his dark eyes almost glowed. "Is this true, Severus Snape?"

Severus nodded. "He wishes for me to teach the boy."

"Better you than he," the Baron said coldly. "He does not have as much care for Harry Potter as you, regardless of his motives to serve the greater good."

With a sigh, Severus said, "I know. He would tear the boy's mind apart to 'teach' him. At least . . . at least I have already had a glimpse of how Harry's mind works. I will do my best to spare him."

"I know you will." The ghost paused. "But you should explain the concept to him and not let him float adrift as he has been these last few weeks."

"I tried!" Severus exclaimed. "He has been avoiding me."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Perhaps he is afraid of Occlumency, like you said, and fears the power I will have over him."

"I very much doubt that is his reason," the Baron said sharply. "It's not you forcing him to learn that Art at his young age."

"Then I don't know. Perhaps he was very upset by what we discussed his last time in my office, the pictures, and his Muggle relatives, and then . . ." He trailed off, feeling as if a door had suddenly opened in his mind. For the first time since that Sunday evening weeks ago, he recalled what secrets he had been trying to pry from the boy, just before Harry had collapsed with the vision and begun writhing in pain on the floor of the dungeon. Despite the potions and spells he had tried, nothing had worked to stop the boy's convulsions or his vision, to sever the connection between Harry and the Dark Lord.

When he had told Harry, in the Infirmary, that he could not use Legilimency to see what had happened in his vision, he had been telling the truth. But he had tried to use a little known type of Legilimency, to loosen the Dark Lord's hold on the boy, and had found he could not penetrate the vision without causing Harry's mind irreparable harm. No, he had been unable to do anything to help the poor boy. He had never felt so helpless before, so completely powerless and lost, not even when, years ago, he had been held under the Cruciatus Curse by the Dark Lord, and was left drooling blood at his Master's feet.

I will protect him, Lily, he vowed once more.

His hands balled into fists. How could he have forgotten that conversation with the boy? The vision and the busy, argument-filled days with Dumbledore that followed were no excuse. What if something more had happened? He would never forgive himself. "Just before he had the vision, he told me another boy was making unwanted advances toward him," Severus said to the Baron through gritted teeth. "Has he mentioned anything of the kind to you?"

The Bloody Baron's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I have heard nothing, and I have seen nothing, as I only accompany him outside of Slytherin common rooms, which means . . ."

"It's one of my Snakes, I know."

"Which one?" the ghost demanded, hurtling his incorporeal body toward Severus so quickly he had to back up a pace, banging the backs of his legs on a low cabinet. The ghost's face was murderous, and Severus was, for perhaps the first time, truly afraid of him. At that moment, Severus knew that if he could, the ghost would kill for Harry Potter.

"I don't know; he didn't get a chance to say." Severus should have asked again, once Harry regained consciousness, but he had not. Why? It was very unlike him. He protected all his Snakes, even if from each other. Why had he not addressed the issue? And why did it feel as if he were only now remembering that it had been an issue to begin with?

"How dare you do noth--" the Baron started, but Severus held up a shaking hand.

Was it possible?

He did not need to draw his wand; it was already in his hand. The "threat" of the Bloody Baron charging at him had been enough for him to take it out without even thinking about it. Swishing the wand over his body -- especially his head -- several times, he cast a number of diagnostic spells. And then he cursed. Loudly.

Someone had Obliviated him.

Not very well, obviously, or he would not have retrieved the memories so easily . . . well, easily once he had had the proper trigger. Otherwise, he might never have recalled that portion of their conversation.

It had to have been Potter.

That stupid, unbelievably idiotic, snot-nosed little boy!

"What is wrong, Severus Snape? What have you discovered?" The Bloody Baron was still very close to him, still very angry looking, but his tone of voice was less threatening.

"That arrogant little shit Obliviated me!"

"Impossible. He does not have the capability, as yet."

"Spare me," Severus snarled as he headed for the door. He was going to tear that boy a new one. No one fiddled with his mind! "He did it; no one else knew about our conversation."

As he flung open the door to his office, the Bloody Baron zoomed in front of him, attempting to halt his progress in his march toward throttling the boy. "It must have been accidental magic. He cannot know what he has done. He would have--"

"He would have what?" Severus interrupted, even as he ignored the Baron and walked right through him. The cold went down to his bones, but he did not stop. His rage kept him warm. "He would have confided in you? Not if he wanted no one to know!"

"And why is that, Severus Snape?" The Baron flew in front of Severus again. "The boy is filled with shame about his family and the way they treated him, and he believes he is not worthy of anyone's care. He has learned, time and again, that those he confides in will turn their backs on him, that he is the one who suffers when anyone in his life attempts to 'help' him."

Severus walked through the ghost again, though his rage was not as hot as it had been, and he shivered upon resuming his march. "He stole my memories!"

"He protected himself!" the ghost snarled back at him. "Or, at least, I believe that is what he was trying to do."

"You know him so well, do you? Are you sure he has not tried the same with you?" Even as he said it, he knew it was stupid.

The Baron was floating backwards now, but still in front of Severus, so they could continually glare at each other. "Severus Snape, how could a boy, even with accidental magic, Obliviate a ghost?"

"If it could ever be done, Harry Bloody Potter is the one who would do it!"

"That is true," the Baron admitted. "I have seen him do things already I would have never imagined possible for a boy his age. But he did not do this intentionally, Severus Snape, I am sure of it. It will not go well for you if you condemn him without hearing his side."

Severus had reached the portrait to the Slytherins' common room, and he spat the password without replying.

Heads turned to see who stormed into the common room, and just as quickly turned away upon seeing his expression; none of his Snakes was suicidal enough to stare at their Head of House when he was in a rage.

He took two strides toward a table of Firsties, all with their faces buried in books hastily lifted from the table. "Where is Potter?" he growled.

Though most of them kept their heads down, one or two even shaking in mere proximity to him, Zabini lowered his book far enough to eye him cautiously. "Boy's lav," he said clearly after a moment, and pointed.

Bulstrode's face reddened, but she did not call out the boy for giving Potter's location up. Instead, she dared to meet Severus' eyes. "Why do you want to know, sir? He hasn't done--"

Before she could even finish her sentence, Severus swirled away from her in a billow of robes. Potter had done something. Something unforgivable. And he would be punished. But when he slammed open the door of the boy's lavatory, all thoughts of that kind flew from his head at the sight that greeted him.

Gaius Avery, grandson of one of the Dark Lord's oldest supporters, had Harry Potter pushed up against the tile wall, his hands gripping Harry's hips hard enough to leave bruises, and was grinding against him, or had been until Severus made his entrance.

Harry had his trousers on, but no shirt, and the expression on his face had never been more blank as he stared at the doorway Snape had come through. His glasses were gone, and the boy's green eyes were unfocused and held no life in them at all. Severus spotted something long and thing under the nearby sinks and realized it was Harry's wand. He'd apparently tried to defend himself, but been disarmed.

Before Severus could get to the wretched filth, to tear him away from Harry, the Fifth Year had the audacity to smirk at him as he stepped back, shoving Harry into the wall.

Harry clung to the wall as if it were a lifeline and closed his eyes.

Hands in tight fists, and choking on his own horror at the situation, Severus forced himself not go to Harry and check to make sure he was all right. For one thing, it was perfectly obvious that he was not . . . though he still had his trousers on, despite the compromising position, so there was that hope, at least. For another, with the Dark Lord very close nearby, he had to be careful not to give his true allegiances away, especially with this Avery boy, despicable as he was. But keeping his instincts to protect Harry in check, right now, very nearly broke him.

"What in the name of Salazar Slytherin is going on here?" Severus asked, his tone as cold and dangerous as it had ever been. He drew himself up to glare down at the damnable boy.

"Just a bit of fun, sir," Avery said with a cool smile. "Isn't that right, Harry."

Harry flinched at the way Avery slurred his name, and did not answer. He did not need to.

"You, Mr. Avery, are a Fifth Year, and have already reached your majority, have you not?"

"So?"

"So, Mr. Potter is very much still underage, and thus any fun of this kind is illegal for you to participate in, with him."

Avery's mouth grew pinched, and his carefully crafted smile vanished. "I only turned sixteen a couple weeks ago, sir. Besides, Harry's up for it, aren'cha?" Again, Avery slurred his way across Harry's name, and again, the younger boy flinched from the sound.

"It doesn't matter if he is, Mr. Avery," Severus told him coldly, though his stomach churned nauseatingly. "Potter is underage and you are not. The Headmaster will need to hear of this, and you will be lucky if you are not expelled."

"Expelled?!" Rage turned Avery's face ugly in an instant. "You can't do that."

"I won't," Severus said, glowering back at the insolent boy as he lost any patience he had left, Dark Lord's supporters be damned. "It is the Headmaster's job to decide, as I said. Now get out! Go to your dormitory until you are sent for."

"Of course, sir," the older boy said facetiously. And then, as a parting shot, he traced his hand across Harry's back and murmured, "See you later, Harry."

Severus grabbed Avery by the arm and flung him across the room hard enough that he hit the wall beside the door with a meaty thud. "GET OUT!" he bellowed. "And never touch Potter again!"

Avery's eyes were wide for a moment, till they narrowed to slits, filled with cunning to match his smile. "As you say. Sir." He escaped the lavatory before Severus could get to him again. Damn!

Immediately, Severus turned back to Harry. As the door to the lavatory closed, the boy had crumpled to the floor, where he was hugging himself, knees to his chest, in the smallest ball he could make. Severus was at his side an instant later, crouched down at his level, yet he dared not touch him, not wanting the boy to panic.

"Harry?" he said instead.

"Go'way," Harry said in a voice nearly at the breaking point. He did not look up. "Leave me alone."

"I can't do that," Severus told him. "I told you before. When I am in a position to aid you, I cannot leave you alone."

"Don't need your help."

"I beg to differ." Severus wordlessly summoned the holly wand under the sinks to himself, then held it out to the boy. "You wand," he said softly.

One of Harry's hands lashed out to grasp his wand, then jerked back into the protective cradling that his arms were giving the rest of his body.

"Tell me what happened."

"You saw," Harry mumbled into his arms.

"Mm. Was this the same boy you said was making you uncomfortable a couple weeks ago?" His earlier rage on this topic was gone, and the only emotion he could drum up over the Obliviation was a vague sense of curiosity, about why Harry had done it. Harry had not wanted the advances, and yet, he had forced the person he had confided in to forget what he'd said about it.

After a slight pause, Harry nodded.

Severus steeled himself and asked, "Was this the first time he's attacked you since then?"

Another pause, then a head shake for "no."

A sound of abject disgruntlement came from behind him, and he turned, wand at the ready, to see the Bloody Baron hovering near the door. "Why did you not tell me, Harry Potter?" the ghost asked. "I thought you were safe within the walls of Slytherin, or I would have kept to your side even here."

Harry's head came up at last, and Severus saw no traces of tears on his face, despite expectations, just a heavy weariness in the boy's mien. "It's nothing. He didn't hurt me. I'm fine."

Severus shook his head, even as the Baron said, "You are not. I thought the troubles you were having these last weeks, with not eating or sleeping, were because of the nightmares you were suffering over the unicorn. But I see now that it was something far more insidious. Why did you tell no one? Why did you not tell me?"

"I couldn't!" Harry yelled, and Severus was glad he had shown emotion at last.

"Surely you could have--"

"No! You don't get it," Harry interrupted the Baron, a bright spark of anger lighting his eyes. "If I told, he said he'd . . ."

"Said what, Harry," Severus prompted when the boy trailed off. "What did he threaten you with?"

"Can't say, he'll . . ." Harry shook his head and held it in his hands. He pulled at his hair like he would yank it all out if he could, and his eyes were squeezed shut. "Can't tell."

Severus wondered if he could be under a compulsion of some kind, but discarded the idea quickly. Those under a compulsion usually could not even say that they could not say. Harry was just frightened. Probably with good reason. "Tell me, Harry, and I will make sure he is thrown so far out of Hogwarts he'll need a time turner to find his way to Hogsmeade."

The boy turned his face to Severus'. "But you said--"

"I said what I had to, to the son of one of the Dark Lord's favored supporters, Harry. If he threatened you, too, he will be gone before the end of the day."

Harry swallowed and managed a small nod. "He said if I didn't play along, he'd do it to my 'Mudblood friend' next." He closed his eyes as a shiver went through his body. "Hermione. He meant Hermione."

Severus nodded, though he felt sick. He knew now why Harry had Obliviated him, whether consciously or not. How little faith this poor boy had in him, in any of the adults in his life, that he would rather give in to a sadist like Avery than trust any of them to keep him -- or his friend -- safe. But then, what had the Baron said, while Severus was stalking his way down here? That any time the boy had been told he was going to receive help, he had suffered instead. He had heard the truth of that, in the conversation Harry had with his owl, when, rather than being rescued from his neglectful relatives, he had been locked up and starved when the nurse from his school investigated his home life.

That would not happen here. Not if Severus had anything to say about it.

"Harry, I want you to come with me to see Madam Pomfrey," he said quietly.

"No!" Harry actually shrank back against the wall. "No, I'm fine!"

"You aren't," Severus insisted. "You may have internal--"

"No! He never did anything, not anything more than like this." The boy swallowed, like he was about to throw up, but to his credit, continued. "Said I was too scrawny, too little for him, but when I got bigger, he'd . . ."

And then Severus understood. He would murder Avery, strangle him with his own two hands. "You don't want her -- or me -- to know you haven't been eating. You did not want to get big enough for him to do any more to you."

Harry nodded jerkily. His thin shoulders were quivering. "Sorry, I'm sorry, sir. I know I said I'd take the potions and eat right and all, I know I promised, but I couldn't! I didn't want, I mean, I didn't . . . I couldn't. . . . I'm so sorry." And here were the tears Severus had expected before: big, fat tears, rolling down his pale, pinched cheeks as his starved body trembled.

"Oh, Harry," he murmured, and reached out with one hand to wipe a tear away, or to cup this child's head and tell him it would be all right, that he didn't blame the boy for protecting himself, not at all, when he suddenly found himself with an armful of sobbing eleven-year-old, skinny limbs and all.

If anyone had told him, three months ago, that he would one day hold James Potter's son in his arms and offer him comfort during a good cry, he would have laughed them all the way to St. Mungo's. And yet, here he was, murmuring soft nonsense words to the boy, patting his back and smoothing his other hand over his black, perpetually messy hair.

As the boy cried himself out, clutching at his shoulders and pressing his tear-damp face into his robes, a dam of emotions broke inside Severus, washing over him like nothing he had ever felt before. He had promised to protect this boy; he had sworn an oath. He had felt protective of him, and angry for him when he had faced those Muggles, and he had shared the pain of loss with the boy in his parents' graveyard and looking over the photographed memories of the woman who meant so much to both of them.

But he had never felt this before, whatever this was . . . just that his heart felt both loosened and constricted at the same time, and he knew he would protect Harry with his own teeth and nails if he had to, and he knew he would never, could never, send him back to those Muggles. He wanted the boy to trust him, and to come to him when he had troubles, and he would hold the boy, just like this . . . like a father should. Like his own father should have, if he had not been such a bastard. Like James should have done, for Harry, if he had not died facing the Dark Lord.

It was time Harry had someone he could count on for good. Like a father, who he could lean on and believe in, and trust. Severus would make it happen. He owed it to Lily. He wanted it for Harry, and for himself.

"It's all right. I'm here," he whispered into the boy's hair as the sobs slowly abated and turned to occasional sniffs and hitched breaths. "I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you."