His hand was still on Harry's cheek, and Harry closed his eyes, just for an instant, and leaned, just a little, into a touch that for once, did not cause him pain or guilt or shame. Just for a moment he let himself dream that he could always have someone who would protect him, who would always care for him. He sighed, nodded, and opened his eyes. "I . . . I will. Yes, sir."

And then, an incredible thing happened. He saw Professor Snape smile.

Severus was in his chair by the fireplace, not wanting to fall asleep in case the Potter boy needed him during the night. He knew the Baron would wake him, if the boy did need him, but he did not want to waste those precious minutes it would take for him to become coherent again, never mind get dressed. So he stayed awake, reading -- or pretending to read, for his own peace of mind -- with a cuppa at his elbow on the small table beside his favorite chair, and he thought.

He wasn't sure anymore, what his intentions were with regard to the boy. To Harry. Surely he could no longer hold himself apart, as if he didn't care. Or worse, that he only cared (or didn't) because of Lily, (or James.) Ah, Lily. If things had been different the last few years of school, if he had never said those hurtful things to her, nor been involved with Lestrange, Rosier, and those other animals. . . .

No. He would not maunder in "might have beens." Doing so was extraordinarily unfair to Harry, as well as to himself. Things were how they were. He could not change the past, only the future. And the future must be changed. If it were not, if Harry's life were to continue in the direction it had been going up till now, if he were forced to return to the family that hated him and were given no support over what that bastard Avery had done to him . . . if Harry were to defeat Voldemort, a monster already in the process of returning, given the vision Harry'd had about the unicorns . . . if he were expected to destroy the Dark Lord without mental, physical and magical support and preparation, then not only was Harry doomed -- to a life of sadness and misery and violence -- but so, too, was the Wizarding World in its entirety.

Neither of these outcomes were ones Severus could live with.

And, he knew, neither could Harry.

Thus, Severus had to do something to shake up the status quo. If that meant putting his life and his job on the line, so be it. Severus already had one unbreakable vow in place concerning Harry Potter. To himself, in this moment, he made another: He would do anything in his power to not only protect Harry, as his current vow held him, but to make sure he was prepared, as well as was possible, to meet his destiny.

As the second vow took effect on his magic, Severus felt a moment's peace. This was right. It was good. He had, in the last few years, nearly forgotten what such selflessness meant, what it felt like.

Less than a quarter hour later, a shimmer of silver appeared near the door of his quarters. Severus was on his feet before the Baron was completely finished sliding through the wall.

"It has begun," the ghost intoned.

Severus practically ran to the Slytherin dorms.

Thus was the pattern set for the next fortnight, at least: Severus would be woken -- or, more often, notified -- by the Baron, at some point near midnight, that Harry was having nightmares or could not sleep; more often the former than the latter. Severus would go to the boy, making sure as he entered the dorm to set Silencing charms, as well as a net of Stay-Sleeping charms over the rest of the boys, so none of them would wake and be curious about Harry's difficulty at night. Once in the dorms, he would sit with Harry for as long as it took for the boy to go back to sleep, or, if that was going to be impossible for him to do on his own, he would give the boy a Sleeping potion. Rarely, he gave him one for Dreamless Sleep.

Yes, despite the frequency of his nightmares, rarely. Aside from the regular side effects of that potion -- including the possibility of addiction -- it was not made for children, so Severus was hesitant about giving it to him at all. Sometimes, however, he knew the boy would get no rest otherwise, and Harry needed that more than anything else, except, possibly, proper nutrition.

During these nighttime visits, Harry rarely shared anything with Severus about his nightmares, but with some prompting he usually admitted to having them, at least. Severus did not chastise him for his silence. He recognized Harry's need to not appear weak, especially in front of him, an adult; after all, Harry's experience had taught him, over and over, that adults were not to be trusted. But Severus meant to prove himself trustworthy, if it took all of Harry's seven years at Hogwarts to accomplish.

In order to make sure that were even possible, Severus had to stay at Hogwarts, and not fear for his own life at the same time. Which meant that, for one thing, before he had dropped Gaius Avery off at the Headmaster's office the evening he was expelled, he had Obliviated the hateful child of the memory of Severus' protectiveness of Harry. He could not have Avery running tales to his father, one of the Dark Lord's inner circle, of how Severus had saved the Boy Who Lived from some abuse, or else the Dark Lord would find out when he returned, and Severus would not be able to protect Harry in the future.

Even now, he was finding protecting Harry harder to do. Harry seemed to attract trouble like flames did moths. For instance, almost two weeks after Avery was expelled, the Brat Who Got into More Trouble than Any Nine Kneazles Put Together admitted to him that he knew what the three-headed hellhound was protecting.

Or rather, the boy copped to knowing that whatever-it-was, was something the Dark Lord wanted, even if Harry did not know what it was specifically called.

Trying to deny this year's secret in Hogwarts, Severus sat back in his chair and showed a blank face, but his mind was racing. "What in the world are you talking about, Potter?"

The boy's face became shuttered as he adopted the same blank stare, and Severus winced internally. This was no way to get Harry to open up to him. Besides, he had promised to call the boy "Harry" when they were not in classes, figuring it was one step along the long road to proving to the boy that not all adults were harsh and abusive. That some could treat him with a modicum of respect and caring.

Severus drew a deep breath and pressed fingers to his temple, trying to think. As they had been doing since the incident in the lavatory, they were sitting together in his office, once classes were over for the day, having tea and biscuits. To ensure Harry would meet with him, and to gain the boy's trust so he would open up more, about his nightmares and the sexual abuse, and eventually about -- he hoped -- the Dursleys, Severus had relaxed the rules for showing Harry pictures of his mother. Now, so long as Harry met with him for an hour between classes and dinner, whether he answered any questions or not, he could see any pictures he liked. Of course, Severus did ask him questions, starting with fairly innocuous ones, such about how his day had gone or if he was enjoying -- or having trouble in -- any of his classes, and getting progressively more personal and serious from there.

This method had borne fruit, obviously, as Harry was now sharing something with Severus that he had not even asked about.

"Harry," he said at last, when it was obvious the boy had closed down. "I would like to know where you got that information." There; he'd not confirmed anything, as he could not, with Albus' oaths of secrecy weighing heavy on him, but he'd not outright accused the boy of making things up, either.

Harry seemed to accept his words as the peace offering they were, and turned to face him again. He refused to meet Severus' eyes, though, the same as he had done for the last two weeks. "Just figured it out, sir," he said quietly, picking at the skin around one thumbnail. "Me and some friends did. Figured out that Fluffy's an, er . . . a cerberus, and's guarding something. And in that vision, of the unicorns, you know? I got the sense that You-Know-Who wanted whatever it was that Fluffy's guarding."

Severus' eyes narrowed. "Was it just a feeling, or did you actually hear His thoughts about this thing?"

"Just a feeling," Harry said. He closed his eyes, as if remembering, and his voice was tight as he continued, "Was all just feelings, really. But some're more clear than others. Like, I knew when he was chasing it that the unicorn blood would keep him alive for a while, but not long enough. And that's when I got the sense about whatever Fluffy's guarding. That he needed it, to make himself live longer."

"Good. Thank you." Severus looked away. This was bad, but he had suspected as much, and he was very glad Harry had told him. "I'll inform the Headmaster--"

"What? No! I--"

The boy's face was so stricken, that Severus interrupted quickly, "Not that you gave me the information, Harry. I wouldn't betray your trust like that. I will only tell him that we need to double check the protections, all right?"

"Yeah, okay." Harry ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean--"

"It's all right. No need to apologize." Severus drew the packet of pictures out of his desk drawer. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Harry freeze, then sit straighter. "What would you like to see?"

Harry leaned forward eagerly. "The one of Mum at the Quidditch game?"

Severus smiled to himself. He was quite fond of that one, too. He shuffled through the pictures to find the one of that rather cloudy day, where Lily's smile seemed to light up everything around her.

He had just located that picture and brought it to the front of the pack when a hesitant voice said, "I lived in a cupboard."

Very carefully not changing his expression, though his jaw wanted to clench as much as his fists, Severus finished moving the picture to the top of the pile and placed the pictures on his desk. He glanced at Harry to see that the boy was staring at his hands in his lap. "Oh?" he said, the merest hint of curiosity tingeing his tone.

"Yeah. The one under the stairs, where Aunt Petunia kept cleaning things for the house. Was my bedroom till I got my Hogwarts letter, and . . . and where they sent me when I was bad, too. But when the letter came, then they thought someone was watching, so they let me have Dudley's second bedroom."

Still trying not to react too much, or frighten Harry's confession into silence, Severus nodded slowly. "Why did they think someone was watching?" He was almost positive that Albus had not been, or, if he had, Severus almost did not want to know it. He didn't think he could handle it if Albus had known about the horror the boy had been through and had done nothing to aid him.

"'Cause of the way the letter was addressed," Harry said, and he moved his chair slightly so he could see the picture Severus had laid out, both of them acting as casual as could be, as if what they were saying meant so very little.

"What way was that?" Severus tilted the picture towards him, just a touch, and when Harry could see it, he smiled, just a touch.

"Your aunt and uncle?"

Harry nodded. "Uncle Vernon took the letter and wouldn't let me have it, even though it was mine. He and Aunt Petunia threw us out of the kitchen, me and Dudley, and they were whispering that maybe 'they' were spying on them, since 'they' knew about my cupboard. That night, he came and visited me in my cupboard, but he'd never done that before."

"Did your uncle . . . do anything to you?" Severus asked quietly. He would kill the man without qualms, if he had.

Harry laid the picture flat and once again ran his fingers over the edge, as if he could somehow go through to the other side if he wished it hard enough. His expression was rather wistful as he gazed at his mother. Severus knew, could he see his own expression, it might be the same.

Finally, Harry said, "No. Not really. I mean . . . he told me the letter was addressed to me by mistake, but I said it wasn't, on account of the mention of my cupboard. But he'd burnt it, he said, then told me he thought my cupboard might be getting a bit small, so I should have Dudley's second bedroom now. I asked him why, but I knew . . . I knew they were feeling guilty, really, 'cause you're not supposed to keep kids in cupboards. I just wanted to hear him say it, and that they were sorry. But he didn't. They weren't. He just he yelled at me to be silent, that I wasn't to ask questions, and I should get my stuff up there straight away. So I did." An odd sort of smile crossed the boy's lips and then was gone just as quickly. "Dudley was awful mad the next day. Screamed a lot and hit Uncle Vernon with his Smeltings stick, and even made himself sick on purpose, but they wouldn't give him back his second bedroom."

Ah. Severus recognized the smile now. Schadenfreude. "So how did you get your letter?" he asked, curious now.

"Hagrid had to bring it to me. Uncle Vernon tried for days to keep them from coming into the house. I got three the day after that first one, and they were addressed to me as being in the smallest bedroom, so the Dursleys were sure someone was spying on them then." Harry seemed to be warming to the subject, at the same time as he continued to look at the photo of the his mother in the stands at the Quidditch pitch. "Then Uncle Vernon drove us all over, and finally rowed us out to this little island in the middle of nowhere, where it was story and smelt like seaweed, and all we had were some crisps and bananas. And at midnight, right on the minute of when my birthday started -- I could see Dudley's watch, he'd gotten a digital one on his birthday, and it glowed in the dark -- Hagrid came booming through the door." Harry grinned, shaking his head. "I'd never seen anyone so huge! He gave Dudley a fright, for certain. Then he gave me my letter, told me I was down for Hogwarts since the day I was born. He brought me a birthday cake he'd baked, too, first one I ever had, and even made sure Dudley didn't eat it all, so I got some."

Severus nodded. That last bit jibed with what he'd heard about Hagrid's trip to collect the Boy Who Lived after it was close to the deadline to hear back from students, and Potter had not responded to his official Hogwarts acceptance letter. Severus had sneered then, at the foolishness of arrogant little boys who couldn't be bothered to correspond with their betters . . . but he knew better now.

"And so," Severus said carefully, hopefully, "they still let you stay in the second bedroom after Hagrid brought you home again?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "No more cupboards."

"Not even for punishment?" he asked softly, glancing at the boy beside him. He had not told Harry he'd overheard him talking to his owl about being locked in the cupboard for a week without food. It would not have surprised him to hear the horrid Muggles had used the threat of it at least.

Harry bit his lip and shook his head. "Not yet anyway. I mean . . . I think they still think they're being watched." He pressed his lips together and his face came over all mulish.

"What is it, Harry?" Severus asked gently, though he had a pretty good idea, one which was borne out by Harry's answer.

"Well . . ." A sigh. "Well, sir, if they were watching, the Headmaster or whoever, I mean, if they did see where I was and how they . . . how the Dursleys treated me and such . . ." He trailed off with another sigh.

"Yes?" Severus wanted Harry to ask the question. The boy needed to ask, needed to validate his own perception that what happened to him was wrong.

"Well, why didn't they ever do anything?! Why'd they leave me to get starved and shoved in that filthy cupboard, and for Dudley to beat me up all the time? If they were watching, why didn't anyone care?"

"You want to know why no one cared that you were being treated poorly," Severus repeated. "Why no one from Hogwarts, or the Ministry, came to take you away from such unfit caretakers."

"I . . ." Harry gulped, and for the first time in two weeks, met his gaze. Severus was startled by the depths of pain in those green eyes, the hurt the boy hid so well and so often, but also by the righteous anger that glittered fiercely within. "Yes, sir."

Severus held that hurting, angry boy's gaze and told him as much as he knew. He hoped it was the truth. "I don't believe anyone was watching, truly. I don't know exactly how the yearly letters are addressed, but I think it's an automatic process. I honestly don't think anyone looks at the addresses of the prospective students, so no one would have known that way that you were living in the cupboard. But that's neither here nor there. You're asking about the last ten years, not just about the letter. I believe, I have to believe that, if Professor Dumbledore knew your circumstances, he would have intervened."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Really?"

Even this child of eleven was not fooled by the Headmaster's grandfatherly manner. Harry knew that Gaius Avery had merely been expelled, instead of incarcerated. He knew Albus wanted him to learn Occlumency, which in a child so young, could fracture his mind. He knew Albus had not intervened when it came to keeping Quirrell away from him, either, even when it meant he was not safe at school. Given all this, why should he believe this latest claim?

Once again, he told the boy the truth. Any less would be insulting, to both of them. "I hope so, Harry. I honestly do."

He knew Harry understood, by the calm nod of his head, and his pensive air, and he wished the boy didn't have to weigh his own worth against that of a Dark Lord's destruction. He wished there was an easy way to ask Albus this question . . . or rather, an easy way to get an honest answer out of him.

But if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.

He needed to get Harry away from those Muggles for good. And now that Harry had started telling him about their treatment, he had a much better shot at it. He gave Harry a half smile. "Thank you, Harry. I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me this," he said. "Now, would you like to see another picture?"

Harry nodded eagerly and reached for the pile of photos. "One of you and Mum," he said, and Severus' heart soared.