"Harry?"

It was Sirius' voice calling him, a note of desperate pleading in it. Harry ran through white mist, searching frantically. He had to find Sirius before it was too late.

"Harry?"

But the mist was so thick. He couldn't see anything. He thrust his arms out and spun around, trying to feel if Sirius were near. Sirius' voice sounded close by, but Harry could never quite reach him.

"Sirius! Where are you?" Harry felt panic rising in his throat, almost suffocating him. There wasn't much time! Where was Sirius?

And then Harry saw a figure ahead, and ran towards it. His relief was so great, his knees shook and his legs could hardly carry him. But it was all right. He had found Sirius!

But just as Harry reached him, the figure turned and Harry's joy turned to icy terror.

"Harry, so good to see you again." Voldemort's voice was soft and silky, yet filled with malevolence. His red eyes blazed in his pale snakelike face and before Harry could even take a step backwards, he'd raised his wand and Harry was lying at his feet.

Other figures stepped out of the mist then. Death Eaters with their masks and hoods, their wands pointing at him, screaming and laughing at Harry's pain...

Then suddenly Harry was alone, lying on the cold ground. The mist had lifted, but it was so dark that he still couldn't see. At first the only sound was his own ragged breathing, but then he heard his name again.

"Harry?" This time it was a hissing whisper.

Harry was afraid to look, afraid it was Voldemort again, but somehow he had to turn his head to the voice. And in spite of the darkness, he could see Sirius sitting beside him.

But Sirius was glaring at him.

"Why did you do this to me, Harry? I loved you, and you killed me. It's all your fault, Harry!"

"Wake up, Harry. It's only a dream." A gentle voice pulled him out of the nightmare. "It's only a dream."

Harry realized he was sobbing, but he couldn't stop himself at this point. It had all been so real. Voldemort, the Death Eaters, Sirius.... That had been the worst part, Sirius hating him. Harry didn't think that he could stand that.

"Hush, child. You're safe here." It was Snape. The room was dimly lit, and Harry could see Snape sitting beside him on the bed, wearing a dark green robe over his pajamas, and speaking in such a soft tone that Harry never would have recognized his voice if he hadn't seen him.

But Harry was crying too hard to stop. Not from fear, although the Voldemort part of the nightmare had been horrible. But Sirius was gone, gone forever, and it was all Harry's fault.

He turned his face to the pillow and wished Snape would go away and let him cry in peace. But then the Potions professor did something Harry never would have expected. Snape reached over and began rubbing circles on Harry's back, lightly, comfortingly.

"Shh, it's all right now, child. It's all right."

Harry didn't see how things could ever be all right again, but somehow it helped a little to have someone patting his back and talking in that quiet, gentle voice. It seemed as if he cried for hours, but finally he ran out of tears and just lay there, not quite daring to raise his head from the pillow because he had no idea what he was going to say to Snape.

The professor gave his shoulder a light squeeze and said in the same soothing tone. "Sit up, Harry. We need to check your arms."

Reluctantly Harry rolled over and sat up. To his surprise, the bandages on his arms were still white.

"I can't believe they aren't bleeding," he said shakily.

"They did earlier," Snape told him. "I had already healed them before you woke up." He paused. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head and had to drop his eyes from Snape's clear gaze. "No, thank you." He took another shaky breath. "I'm sorry I woke you up, sir."

Snape waved his hand dismissively, as if Harry waking him in the middle of the night was no great matter. Even with his head lowered, Harry could feel Snape's dark eyes studying him. "You seemed more upset than usual."

Than usual? So he'd woken Snape before with his nightmares? Harry suddenly remembered that faint memory of a soft voice telling him he was safe and of a hand carding through his hair. So that had been Snape after all. Wow.

"It...seemed very real," he whispered. He knew it was late, but the idea of trying to go back to sleep, in the dark, was just horrible. What if he found himself back in the same nightmare? He shuddered.

Snape cleared his throat. "Perhaps you would like a drink of water?"

Harry nodded gratefully.

Snape reached for his wand, then paused and studied Harry again with that same thoughtful look. "If you move carefully, I think you might be well enough to get up for a while. Would you like to go into the living room?"

"Yes, please." It would good to get out of this room for a time. It might not make sense, but Harry felt it would help him to get away from the nightmare.

Snape stood and waited as Harry carefully climbed out of bed. The air was cool and Harry shivered.

"Wait a minute." Snape took his wand again and an instant later, Harry wore a green robe like the professor's over his pajamas and there were warm slippers on his feet.

"Um, thank you, sir. Thanks a lot."

Snape inclined his head and motioned for Harry to follow him. In spite of still feeling shaken by his dream, Harry looked about curiously as they left the bedroom and went into the adjoining living area.

It, too, was a large room, done in taupe, beige, and brown. Several tables, armchairs, and a comfortable-looking sofa were scattered around, and a beige, brown, and dark green rug covered the floor. A wide fireplace with a high stone mantel took up much of one wall, and on another an arched doorway presumably led to the corridor beyond. An alcove on the far side of the room held a small dining table and a couple of chairs.

They sat on the sofa and the Potions professor conjured a glass of water for Harry. He took it gratefully and then glanced at Snape.

"Don't you want anything, sir?" He half expected the professor to sneer back at him, something like, "Wouldn't I have gotten myself something if I'd wanted it, Potter?" After all, he wasn't used to Snape being so nice, not to him anyway.

But Snape just shook his head and said calmly, "No, I've had quite enough today---breakfast, lunch, dinner," He shot a wry look at Harry. "Cake, ice cream."

Harry smiled a little and sipped his water.

There was a pause; then Snape spoke again, sounding a little awkward. "I have observed you and Mr. Weasley playing wizard's chess before. Do you enjoy it?"

"Yeah, I mean, yes, sir. Not as much as Ron, but I like it all right."

Snape motioned to a set of small chess figures resting on a table in the corner. "Would you care to begin a game?"

"I thought I wasn't supposed to move my arms?"

"You don't have to. You can simply tell the pieces where to go."

"Um, sure, then. I'd like to play." Harry peeked at Snape as the man Summoned the chess set and set it up between them. Was this really Severus Snape, the same Potions professor who had hated him on sight and had lived to make Harry miserable, at least until a couple weeks ago?

"I'll be black. You can make the first move." Snape motioned to him and Harry pushed all other thoughts away and gave the chessboard his full attention.

He concentrated so hard on the match that he was surprised when the clock on the mantel chimed and they glanced up to see that an hour had passed.

Snape set the chessboard back on its table. "Ah, it's quite late. We better try to sleep again. I'll leave the board as it is and perhaps we could finish tomorrow, if you like."

Harry nodded and moving carefully and slowly, he followed Snape back to the bedroom. He climbed back into the bed and Snape went to his cot.

"You should learn to think through your strategy, Harry." Snape dimmed the lights. "You're not a bad player, but you must learn to think several moves ahead."

Harry yawned. "That's what Ron says, too. He's better than me, but I beat him every once in a while. Not often, but just enough to keep him on his toes."

"Good night, then."

"Good night, sir." And Harry was asleep before he remembered that he was afraid of having more nightmares.

In the darkness, Severus waited until he heard the boy breathing deeply and evenly before closing his own eyes and allowing himself to drift off.

They slept late in the morning, but it was of no great consequence. Their visitors did not usually come until after lunch, and Severus' potions were past the point of needing constant attention.

He woke first, dressed, and ordered breakfast from the kitchens. Harry was still sleeping when their plates arrived so Severus cast a Warming Spell on his plate and set it on the night table. Then he paused and took his own food over to the armchair in the corner to eat, instead of going to his dining table. He wasn't sure exactly why he felt so protective of the boy, but he wanted to keep watch over him.

That had certainly been a horrible nightmare Harry had had last night. Severus didn't know what Harry had dreamed, but something had made it worse than the others. Every night since he'd come back to consciousness, the boy had cried or moaned in his sleep, but he usually calmed down within a few minutes of Severus reassuring him and he hadn't completely woken up before either.

Last night Harry had been distraught and his heartbroken sobs still haunted Severus. The only other time Severus remembered seeing Harry so upset had been right after the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, when Cedric Diggory had died and Voldemort had returned. Even then, Harry had not sobbed openly.

He wished Harry had told him what the nightmare had been about, but he supposed after their tumultuous history, it was too much to expect the boy to confide in him. He sighed and shook his head. When exactly had things changed so much? When had he started caring about being Potter's confidante?

Just then Harry rolled over and opened his eyes. It struck Severus again that the boy didn't look as much like his father without his glasses on, or maybe he'd just begun to see the real Harry inside. He remembered something Albus had told him long ago, that Harry was really much more like his mother, if Severus would only look past the outward appearance.

At the time Severus had dismissed Albus' words, not wanting to hear anything that would shake his opinion of the boy. But now...well, now he had to admit that he had been wrong. More, that he wanted a chance to get to know the real Harry, to see how he resembled Lily as well as James, and how he was unique from both of them, special in his own right.

If it wasn't too late. Severus had ruined his friendship with Lily. He could only hope he hadn't already ruined his chances with her son.

He certainly couldn't blame Harry for hating him. Severus had spent five long years making the boy into an enemy. It would take an extraordinary person to forgive him for all the cruel jeers and undeserved insults.

But the past few days, things had been different. They had carried on civil conversations, apologized to each other, and Harry had even been sure to include Severus in his party. Maybe there was a chance that their relationship could salvaged. Maybe they could be friends....

Except that he didn't even know how to be a friend. It was pathetic, really. Here he was, thirty-six years old, and he had no idea how to establish a positive, caring relationship with anyone. Somehow, he'd never managed to learn. The few times he'd tried to make friends, it had always ended in failure. He'd had Lily for a while, but then he had destroyed that, too.

What was he thinking? Harry would be better off without him. Everyone was.

But then Harry smiled at him, and Severus felt that something in his chest lurch again.

"Good morning, sir." Harry's voice was a little scratchy, and Severus set his own plate aside, came over and handed Harry his tumbler of juice from the night table.

"Good morning," he said while the boy drank.

After a few sips, Severus set the cup down and reached for Harry's plate, but before he could begin feeding the boy, Harry said, "Thank you, sir, for...being there for me last night."

"You're welcome, Harry."

Harry wanted to tell him more, how much it had meant that Snape had comforted him, and let him get up, and distracted him with the chess game. How much it had helped Harry to put the nightmare behind him and feel a little better. But everything he could think of to say just sounded ridiculous.

He was struggling to find the right words when something else occurred to him and he suddenly stared. "You've been calling me ‘Harry'."

"So I have." Something in Snape's black eyes softened and Harry thought that perhaps Snape did understand what Harry wanted to tell him. He smiled again and the professor stirred the bowl of porridge and scooped up a spoonful.

"Eat your breakfast, Harry, and perhaps we can finish that chess game."