Moonlight streamed through the infirmary windows, its soft silvery glow the only light in the long shadowy room. Four slumbering figures rested on the cots; three of them sleeping peacefully. The fourth tossed and turned in increasing agitation and finally cried out, haunted by visions of past tragedies.

Severus' eyes flew open and he turned his head sharply towards the sound. Harry was having a nightmare, just as Poppy had said he often did. Severus hesitated, but only for a second. Then he slipped out of bed and glided over to the boy's side, a silent dark figure in his habitual black robes. He just hadn't been able to bring himself to wear pyjamas in front of anyone so he'd contented himself with casting a refreshing charm on his clothes and then wearing them to bed.

He paused by Harry's cot. They were in the shadows, but Severus thought he saw traces of tears on the boy's face. He himself felt almost overcome with conflicting emotions; the old resentment warring with sympathy, regret, and his new uncertainties about Harry Potter.

But the boy had been through hell recently, and he'd always had to carry a burden that was far too heavy for any child to have to bear. He needed comfort. Severus tentatively reached over and gave the boy's upper arm a slight shake.

"Wake up, child," he said softly.

Harry flinched at the contact and gasped, as if in pain. For a second, Severus was bewildered until he remembered that he had left bruises on the boy's arms when he had shaken him so furiously. Poppy had been absolutely livid when she had informed him of that, perhaps even more angry about that than Harry's injured lungs.

Severus didn't know which he felt worse over. The damage to Harry's lungs had been far more painful and dangerous, but that had been at least partially an accident. Severus didn't want to call it an accident, because he knew the whole thing was his fault and he wasn't trying to excuse himself or justify his uncontrolled temper and inexcusable carelessness. But he had never meant for Harry to be poisoned.

But he had deliberately gripped the boy's arms hard enough to leave bruises and in a fit of rage, had shaken him violently. Just as Harry's relatives had done in the past. Severus loathed himself for that. He didn't know if Harry would be able to forgive him and perhaps be willing to give him another chance...the boy had already endured so much injustice at Severus' hands...but he knew he had to try to make things up to him.

He moved his hand away, but spoke in a gentle, reassuring tone that very few people had ever heard him use. "It's all right, Harry. You're safe now. It was just a nightmare and it's over."

Harry glanced around and he swallowed hard before saying, "I'm sorry for waking you."

Severus shook his head. "No, it...it is I who owes you an apology."

Even in the darkness, he could see the blank astonishment on the boy's face. Somehow, the fact that Harry had so obviously not expected him to feel any remorse made him feel worse than ever.

"I misjudged you and I lost my temper. I should have given you a chance to explain," Severus said, hating how the words sounded so stiff and inadequate. He just didn't know how to express his feelings. He'd never been very good at sharing his emotions, especially the difficult ones like remorse and guilt. At times like this, his eloquence deserted him and he felt completely tongue-tied and hopelessly clumsy.

But he owed this to Harry and even more, he wanted Harry to know how he felt, so he went on in spite the horrible awkwardness.

"I realise it may be difficult for you to believe, but I did not intend to leave you working in my lab all night, and I certainly never intended for you to be injured. I was going to fetch you after dinner. I meant for you to eat and then finish cleaning the next morning, but Poppy contacted me, saying that Albus had been critically injured and might be dying. I'm afraid that news drove all other thoughts from my mind. I rushed off to help her heal him, and I was not able to return home until morning. By then you had been breathing in poisonous fumes for hours."

He hesitated. "We're very fortunate that you are still alive."

Some emotion flickered across the boy's face so quickly that Severus couldn't be sure what it was. His words sounding more stilted than ever because it was so hard for him to show any hint of vulnerability, he added, "I do truly regret that you suffered because of my actions."

Harry stared down at his clasped hands lying atop the coverlet for so long that Severus wondered if he was going to respond. Finally the boy mumbled, "Yes, sir."

Severus supposed that meant his apology was accepted, at least on the surface. He didn't have any doubts that it would take a long time before Harry could really forgive him, but it was a beginning.

Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to escape back to his own cot and try to sleep again...he didn't think he'd ever felt more awkward in his life...but something made him ask, "Will you be able to sleep again now?"

Once again he thought the boy looked a bit surprised, but after a few seconds Harry nodded.

"Yes, sir," he repeated.

Severus stood up. "Good night, then."

He went back to his bed and lay down, but it was a long time before he could sleep.

***

Harry lay still, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, his mind still reeling from the discussion with Snape. The man had actually apologised to him. Never in a million years would Harry have thought Snape would do that. He was always so cold and so stoic. Harry would have never thought that Snape would admit to misjudging him or feel any remorse over Harry's pain. In fact, he had halfway expected Snape to berate him for his stupidity in mixing the wrong solutions.

Now he didn't know what to think. It was hard to believe that Snape was sincere, yet the professor had sounded so uncomfortable and awkward. It had obviously been hard for him. If he'd only been playing some sort of game or trick on Harry, wouldn't he have sounded more smooth and polished?

Well, Harry supposed it didn't really matter anyway. He was definitely going to stay out of Snape's way from here on. He'd eat his meals silently and unobtrusively and spend the rest of his time in his room. He had a lot of studying to do, anyway. He'd need to be as strong and as knowledgeable as possible to beat Voldemort so he needed to be thoroughly familiar with all the magical theory from his textbooks. It would be even better if he could actually practice the magic, but there was nothing he could do about being underage. He could read and study until he knew those books inside out, though, and surely it would help him to learn more quickly in the fall when school started and he could do magic again.

Of course, the skills he'd learn from his Hogwarts' textbooks weren't likely to be enough to beat Voldemort. Harry wasn't kidding himself about that. After all, fully trained Aurors with years of experience hadn't been able to destroy old Snake-face. How could a student just past his O.W.L.S. hope to?

But Harry couldn't think of any better plan right now, and learning his school lessons perfectly was a start, anyway. Maybe, come fall, he could find books about more advanced magic in the Hogwarts' library. Maybe he could ask Dumbledore to help him. Surely Snape wouldn't object to that. He knew Harry had to beat Voldemort.

Dumbledore.

Snape had said he'd been critically injured and had almost died. Harry looked quickly over at the next cot where the headmaster lay, still sleeping. Without his glasses and with the room being so dark, Harry could just make out a blurry lump. He squinted, trying to see more plainly. The old wizard had been asleep the whole time Harry had been in the infirmary, as far as he knew, but except for his bandaged arm he seemed well enough. Madame Pomfrey and Snape hadn't been fussing over him, either, so surely Dumbledore would be all right.

He had to be.

Harry knew Dumbledore was old, but wizards did tend to live quite a long time, unless they were victims of foul play or of some type of accident. One of their O.W.L. examiners had been a good bit older even than Dumbledore. Harry remembered her saying that she had tested him back when he'd been in school.

Besides, Dumbledore had always been so lively and so vital, so powerful. Harry really could not imagine anything happening to him. And yet, something had almost killed him.

Harry was surprised to find a lump in his throat. It wasn't that he didn't care about Dumbledore. In spite of the lingering anger and resentment he'd felt towards the headmaster these last weeks, Harry knew that he did care. A lot, in fact. He was intensely shaken by the sudden realisation that they could lose Dumbledore. It was frightening because without Dumbledore to protect and teach him, Harry didn't see how he could possibly win against Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

But it was much more than that, too. He really cared about Dumbledore himself. And that was scary, because Harry didn't want to feel that deeply about anything or anyone anymore. He had to protect himself. He had to stay numb and not let anyone into his heart again.

Harry's thoughts drifted to Ron and Hermione, and suddenly he wanted them so much it hurt. They were more than friends. They were the only family he had. Until the past couple of weeks, they'd been through everything together and they knew him better than anyone else. Just like he knew them.

He wanted them there, just sitting beside him, letting him know that he wasn't alone, that he was loved. He missed everything about them...Ron's jokes and laughter, Hermione's dedication and responsibility. He missed talking about Quidditch and playing chess with Ron. He missed Hermione's fretting and concern. He missed them.

For a while he let the memories come. Some of them were happy and some weren't, but they were all still memories of the best times of his life...meeting Ron on the Hogwarts' Express; saving Hermione from the mountain troll; he and Ron venturing into the Chamber of Secrets and their joy when Hermione had been un-petrified; Ron and Hermione staying right by his side in the Shrieking Shack when they'd thought Sirius was trying to kill him; the terrible fight with Ron at the beginning of fourth year and the way Hermione had stuck with him and helped him through that difficult time; and the joy when Ron had come back and their friendship had been restored.

Finally Harry let his thoughts drift to the past year. Fifth year had been horrible in a lot of ways. Harry didn't think he could have survived it without his friends. It was their love and support that had helped him to get through it. They'd been there with him every step of the way, even at the end, at the Ministry...

Oh, Merlin...he loved them so much. How could he stop caring now?

Harry closed his eyes and tried hard to push those memories away. It wasn't like Snape was going to let him stay friends with Ron and Hermione, after all. So for all intents and purposes, their friendship was over anyway.

It was just as well. Being close to him was a dangerous proposition. Two people had already died because of him, first Cedric Diggory and then Sirius. Four, actually, counting his parents, Harry realised, and Ginny Weasley had almost died simply because her family had welcomed Harry into their midst.

But no more. This fight was between Voldemort and himself, and Harry needed to make sure his friends didn't get caught in the crossfire ever again.

It would spare them grief when he died, too, because he was going to die, either in battle with Voldemort or afterwards. Perhaps Ron and Hermione wouldn't be too upset if he'd already cut ties with them. At least they'd still have each other.

And Harry could have his parents and Sirius. Feeling slightly comforted, he closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

***

Albus woke in mid-morning. Poppy and Severus were awake, of course, and Harry had woken very early. Severus had missed the opportunity to speak with him then...he'd still been sleeping at that point. Poppy had been awake and she'd reported that Harry seemed fine, though he would still need to take the tissue restoration potion for another week or so. She'd ordered his breakfast and given him a dose of the potion, which also contained a strong sedative, and the boy had already fallen back asleep when Severus woke an hour later.

He performed another refreshing charm and ordered his own breakfast from the kitchen, all the while casting surreptitious glances at the boy. He didn't want Poppy to think he was growing soft, but as soon as she went into her office for a few minutes, he walked over to Harry's bedside.

The child was too thin. He'd eaten next to nothing since he'd been at Prince Hall, Severus knew, and probably hadn't eaten well for a few weeks before that. No doubt grieving for his dead godfather. Severus had despised Sirius Black, and the feeling had been entirely mutual, but he knew that Harry had been close to Black.

What with his godfather's death and then having to deal with the slavery spell soon after, it was no wonder Harry hadn't had much appetite lately. Severus would have to try to encourage him to eat more once they were back home.

Harry did seem to be breathing easily, and Severus was profoundly grateful for that. Once again he felt a baffling urge to card his fingers through the child's hair, but just then he heard Poppy bustling around in her office and he quickly moved back to sit on his own cot before she could catch him coddling the boy.

The next couple of hours passed quietly. Harry and Albus slept. Poppy was apparently re-organising her files in the office, but she came back frequently to check on her patients. Severus settled himself on his cot and skimmed through some old potions journals, though he too kept an eye on Harry and Albus.

It occurred to him that he wasn't needed, that there was really no reason why he couldn't return to the Hall and have Poppy send Harry back on his own when she decided to release him. She'd said probably by late afternoon if he was doing well.

But something made him stay. His sense of duty, Severus supposed. He'd always had a strong sense of duty, and the boy was his responsibility now. He should be at the infirmary as long as Harry was there, just in case. So he stayed, though he firecalled Norie and Zan to let them know Harry was healing and to make a few other arrangements.

It was about ten o'clock in the morning when Albus stirred and opened his eyes. He looked around, noting the infirmary's other occupants, and asked, "Severus?"

Severus dropped the journal he'd been reading and called softly, so as not to wake Harry. "Poppy."

She'd already heard Albus and was on her way to his bedside. "How do you feel, Albus?"

He smiled. "Much better than I did at last memory. I owe you a tremendous debt of gratitude, Poppy."

"You're welcome, but you really owe that debt to Severus. He did more to save you than I did. I'm afraid I really had no idea how to help you, Albus. I've never seen a curse like that one. When Hagrid brought you in, the only thing I could think of to do was to call Severus."

Albus nodded. "Yes, it was quite a debilitating curse. It was all I could do to Apparate myself back to the Hogwarts' gates. I wasn't even entirely sure I'd made it. I must have lost consciousness just as I landed. So Hagrid found me?"

"Yes," Poppy said. "And thank Heavens he just happened to be coming back from Hogsmeade right at the moment you appeared. You might have lain by the gates for hours before someone found you."

"A most fortuitous bit of luck," Albus agreed.

Poppy ran through some diagnostic spells. "Well, you do seem to be well on the way to recovery, Albus. Your arm is burned, but if you apply healing salve three times a day, it will as good as new in a week. Otherwise, you are very healthy, and very fortunate." She raised her eyebrows. "I suppose it would be pointless to inquire for details on exactly how you were injured."

"For right now, yes," Albus told her. He turned to look over at the next cot. "I can understand why the two of you are here, but why is Harry?"

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Poppy murmured something about working in her office and disappeared. Severus took a deep breath and explained how Harry had come to be hurt.

He couldn't quite bring himself to meet Albus' eyes, instead focusing on the white wall behind him. It was the hardest thing he'd done since he'd come to Albus for help when he'd left Voldemort. Perhaps even harder. He had promised not to abuse the boy, to keep him safe. He'd failed on both counts.

When he'd finished the tale, he made himself meet his mentor's gaze. Albus's face was grave, a mixture of disapproval and disappointment, but all he said was, "How do you intend to make amends, Severus?"

Severus ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Albus," he said quietly. "I did apologise to him. I know that it isn't enough, but I will try...." His voice trailed off uncertainly.

"You apologised to Harry?" Albus asked quietly.

"Yes, of course."

Albus gave him a searching look before saying. "Well, it's a start. I do trust that you will take better care of Harry from now on."

Albus' voice was stern, and Severus recognised it as a warning. He felt slightly indignant, but at the same time he knew he deserved it so he only nodded.

Albus nodded, too, and stood up. "Very well. If I can manage to convince Poppy to release me, I'd like to see you alone in my office, Severus. I didn't want to go into details in front of her, but as Harry's guardian, I think you ought to know more about how I was injured." He lowered his voice. "I think we've finally taken the first step towards victory."

***

Dumbledore was sitting in a chair beside his cot when Harry woke up again. It reminded Harry of the day not long ago when he'd awoken only to have Dumbledore tell him that somehow he'd become Snape's slave. For a moment, Harry wished he could go back to sleep, but Dumbledore had already seen his eyes open and was handing him his glasses.

"Harry, I heard about what happened, and I'm so sorry. Are you all right now?"

Sure, I'm a slave to one of my worst enemies. I have no freedom or rights. I've lost everything I ever had. But I'm all right. Everything's just great, so no worries.

Since he couldn't tell Dumbledore what he was really thinking, Harry only nodded.

He felt the headmaster's gaze on him, raised his eyes, and was surprised at how sorrowful Dumbledore looked. "Sir, are you all right? They said you were badly hurt."

Dumbledore smiled a little, but Harry thought he still looked sad. "Yes, thank you, Harry. I'm much better now. I'm afraid I injured my arm a bit." He motioned towards his bandaged arm. "But Madam Pomfrey assures me it will heal soon." With his good arm, he reached to place a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I just wish I could help you."

Harry looked away, determinedly blinking back tears, and after a second, Dumbledore went on, his voice brisk with forced cheerfulness.

"I have something for you, by the way." He reached into the pocket of his emerald green robes and pulled out several envelopes. "Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley were most upset about having to leave school before you had woken. I promised to let them know once you were awake, and I did so, though I didn't tell them about the slavery spell. They seem to have been keeping the owls busy ever since."

Harry took the letters and turned them over in his hand. His eyes blurred at the familiar sight of Ron's loopy scrawl and Hermione's neat handwriting. But then another thought occurred to him and he looked up at Dumbledore.

"But I'm not at Privet Drive anymore. How do they know where to send the letters?"

"I paid a visit to your relatives the day you left for Prince Hall," Dumbledore explained. "While I was there, I put a charm on the house so that any owls bringing messages from your friends would be re-directed to Hogwarts. Harry, you may write back to your friends, of course..."

If Snape lets me, Harry thought to himself, but didn't interrupt.

"But I am going to ask you not to tell them about the slavery spell, or the fact that you are no longer living with your aunt and uncle. Owl post is not completely safe from being intercepted these days and we do not want Voldemort or his followers to learn about this."

Harry didn't want anyone to ever learn that he was a slave, so he immediately nodded in agreement. Before Dumbledore could say anything else, Snape and Madame Pomfrey came out of her office.

Snape looked rather impatient. "Yes, Poppy, I have plenty of tissue restoration potion at home, and yes, I know he takes it twice a day, in the mornings and evenings, for a week. I think I can manage without assistance."

Madame Pomfrey looked as if she wanted to make some sharp retort, but then she looked over at Harry and her face softened. "Well, dear, I think you're able to go home now. Professor Snape has invited both Albus and me to dinner on Friday evening so we'll see you then."

Harry wished fiercely that he didn't have to go, that he could just stay at Hogwarts instead. He liked Norie and Zan, and Prince Hall was beautiful, but it was Snape's home, not his. Hogwarts was his home and he hated leaving it, especially since it meant he would be alone with Snape again. But he'd better get used to that.

Harry took a deep breath and reminded himself that it was only temporary. One day he'd be free again. One day he'd be with his real family, and the first step towards making that day come was to go back to Prince Hall and start studying and learning all he could.

So he said good-bye to Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey and followed Snape over to the fireplace. The professor tossed some Floo powder in and looked at Harry. "Are you ready?"

Harry was surprised that he didn't sneer or sound hateful. He was even more surprised at how gently Snape's hand curled around his arm as they stepped into the grate. Then green flames shot high around them, and they were on their way back to Prince Hall.