Severus leaped from his bed and hurried across the hall, pulling his sleep-robe over his pyjamas as he went. Even though it was summer and the days were warm, the night air could be chilly. He cast Lumos as he came through Harry's door and a soft glow lit the cavernous rooms, chasing the darkness away.

Harry was thrashing on the bed, crying, "No, no, don't! Please!" caught in the grip of some nightmare. He was obviously not fully conscious, and Severus started for the bed, intending to gently shake him awake.

But as he reached the side of the bed, he abruptly stopped, feeling as though a bucket of icy water had been dropped on him. If he reached for Harry now, the boy would almost certainly fight against him. Not intentionally, but he was in the throes of some horrific vision and wouldn't know what he was doing. But how would the slavery spell interpret his actions?

One of the things he and Albus had discussed this evening, when planning Harry's training, had been how careful they would need to be to make sure that Harry never did anything that could even remotely be considered an ‘attack' against Severus. Because if the magical contract thought Harry was trying to hurt him, it could kill the boy.

So Severus would have to move carefully now. For the first time, he had a true sense of empathy for the ways the slavery spell was affecting Harry. Oh, he had always known it was unfair, and the past few days he'd been feeling increasingly sympathetic and concerned for Harry. He'd spent a lot of time over the past week, trying to think of ways to make it all easier for the child to bear.

But this flash of feeling was more. Suddenly Severus had a sense of just how much the spell had changed Harry's life and how deeply it was affecting him. To think that an innocent child could die, just because he suffered from a nightmare and acted instinctively to protect himself...it shook Severus to realise how harsh, how immutable these conditions could be.

He swallowed hard and pulled himself together. The most important thing right now was to help Harry out of his terrible dreams and back into awareness, and to do it safely. He thought for a second and then cast a gentle Tickling Charm on Harry.

For a moment Harry twisted and Severus wasn't sure if it would work. He didn't want to have to resort to anything more drastic...Levicorpus or Aguamenti perhaps. But those spells would likely be an unpleasant awakening for Harry, and he didn't want that.

Fortunately, after a few seconds Harry's eyes flew open. He sat up and looked around with a wild haunted face. Severus immediately cancelled the Tickling Charm and then sat down on the side of the bed. He took Harry's glasses from the night table and handed them to the boy.

"It's all right, Harry," he spoke in a soothing tone. "It was just a nightmare. It's over now."

Harry took a deep shuddery breath. "It's not," he whispered in a ragged voice. "It's real." He drew his knees up, pressed his face against them, and wrapped his arms around his shins.

Severus slowly reached over to touch his shoulder. "What was it about, Harry?"

But Harry shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it. Please."

Severus sighed. "It might help," he said quietly.

Harry shook his head again. "Nothing can help," he replied, his voice dull and flat.

Severus wondered how he could combat such hopelessness. It would help if he knew what Harry's nightmare had been about. Voldemort? Black's death? Perhaps his abusive relatives? Could it have even been about Severus mistreating him again?

"You're safe here, child," he spoke soothingly. "We're under the Fidelius Charm and I'm the Secret-Keeper. I would never bring anyone here who might hurt you. You're very safe. It's all right now."

He realised that at some point in the past few minutes his hand had slipped from Harry's shoulder and was lightly rubbing circles on his back. He almost reacted on reflex and pulled his hand away, but then he noticed that the boy's tense muscles had relaxed just a little bit so he kept it up.

For a while they stayed like that; Harry hunched over, hugging his drawn-up legs, and Severus sitting beside him, cautiously offering comfort. Finally Harry raised his head and asked in a hoarse voice, "Could I please have a drink of water?"

"Of course." Severus flicked his wand and cup of cool water appeared. He handed it to Harry who mumbled his thanks and sipped it slowly.

It occurred to Severus that when he suffered a nightmare, it sometimes helped him to get up and read a book or write in his journal. It seemed to help him be able to leave the dream behind if he could get involved in doing something before trying to go back to sleep.

"Perhaps you might like to begin a game of chess?" He offered tentatively. "I've found that after a nightmare it often helps me to get up and do something else for a bit."

For a second he thought Harry would refuse, but then the boy nodded. "Yes, sir, I'd like that."

Severus raised his wand again, silently calling Harry's sleep-robe. But nothing came and then he remembered that he hadn't seen one in the wardrobe when he'd been looking for the child's pyjamas.

"Do you have a sleep-robe?" He asked, looking back at Harry.

"No, sir."

Severus summoned another of his own, a navy-blue one, and when it soared through the door and over to the bed, he gave the boy an appraising look and tapped the robe once with his wand. It promptly shrunk a bit and Severus held it out to Harry.

"Here, see if it fits properly."

Looking a little surprised, Harry obediently stood up and slipped the robe on. It fit perfectly and Severus nodded in satisfaction.

Harry fingered the cloth belt on the robe. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Severus told him, thinking that he would definitely have to buy the boy some more clothes for his birthday, and perhaps a Quidditch book or a musical album. Teenagers liked music, didn't they?

He stood as well. "The chess set is in my sitting room."

They went across the hall to Severus' sitting room, done in ivory and sage green, and seated themselves in two armchairs before the fireplace. A small table sat between the chairs with an old, but impeccably-kept chess board atop it.

They played for almost an hour, and Harry was better at the game than Severus had expected him to be. Of course he knew Harry and Ron Weasley liked to play chess in their free time, but it had never occurred to him that Gryffindors could possess any sense of strategy. He thought wryly to himself that he'd never seen much evidence of it before. But Harry was skilled enough to keep Severus paying close attention and he lost track of the time, only noting the late hour when a clock on the wall chimed.

"I hadn't realised how late it was," he said. "We need to try to sleep again now. Tomorrow will be a busy day."

Harry nodded, though his face seemed to tighten slightly. "Yes, sir. I...I'm sorry for waking you."

"Don't apologise. You did nothing wrong," Severus told him. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine, I suppose. I didn't give you your dreamless sleep potion tonight. But you were sleeping soundly and at the time, it seemed kinder to let you rest. But perhaps that was a mistake." He stood. "Wait here a moment and I'll fetch your potions now."

He Flooed down to his laboratory, selected two vials from a shelf, and returned upstairs. He watched as Harry took the tissue restoration potion first and then the dreamless sleep, and then went with him back across to his bedroom.

"You shouldn't have any trouble sleeping now," he said quietly. "But if for some reason you do, you may fetch me." He paused. "Or if you are not comfortable doing that, you may call for Norie or Zan. They have helped me before after a nightmare, so they're accustomed to it."

Harry had taken off his glasses and climbed into bed. He blinked, rather owlishly, at Severus. "You have nightmares, too, sir?"

Severus nodded. "Occasionally."

Harry looked puzzled. "But I thought Occlumency kept you from having nightmares."

"It helps, certainly, but some events are so intense and upsetting that even Occlumency cannot prevent nightmares about them."

"Oh." Harry hesitated before saying softly. "I'm sorry."

Severus wondered why there was a sore raspiness in his throat. He swallowed hard before answering, "It is nothing for you to worry about. You need to sleep now."

When Harry's face became tense and guarded again, he realised that his voice had sounded more gruff than he'd intended. To make up for it, he patted the boy's shoulder, a little awkwardly, and said more gently. "Good night, Harry. Sleep well."

Harry started to give him his shy smile when he suddenly stared at Severus, his face blank with astonishment. "You've been calling me ‘Harry'."

Severus kept his voice gentle. "Foolish child. I wondered if you would ever notice."

He noxed the light and returned to his own room. They both slept peacefully the rest of the night.

***

The sun was high in the sky when Harry woke the next morning. He could see it through the wide window next to his bed and knew at once that it was past breakfast time, a good bit past. Oh, well, he wasn't very hungry anyway and it wouldn't be too long before lunch. It wouldn't hurt him to miss one meal.

But he'd scarcely completed that thought when there was a knock on his door and he looked over to see Snape coming in, levitating two trays laden with food before him.

"Good, you're awake," the professor said. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep until lunch."

Harry flushed. "Sorry, sir."

But Snape quickly shook his head. "I didn't mean it as criticism. You were tired and you needed the rest. I only woke up a short while ago myself."

"Oh," Harry wasn't sure how to respond. He slipped his glasses on as Snape came over, set one tray in front of him, and then sat on the side of the bed with the other.

"But I missed breakfast. You said..." his voice trailed off as he wished that he'd thought before he'd spoken.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him. "I said what?"

Harry looked down at the plate. "You said if I was late to meals that I couldn't eat," he mumbled.

Snape actually looked uncomfortable. "Yes, well, I was in a rather bad mood that day. So long as there's a good reason..." He nodded at Harry's plate. "Eat your breakfast, Harry."

Harry picked up his fork and took a bite of poached egg.

They didn't talk much, but the silences were becoming more companionable and not so awkward. As he ate, Harry noticed that he was feeling more comfortable around Snape than ever before. Oh, he wasn't perfectly at ease with the professor, but he wasn't tense and miserable, expecting Snape to pounce on him any minute, either. The professor really had been decent lately. He could have torn Harry to shreds last night, when Harry had woken him up.

But he hadn't.

Snape had sat with him and patted his back and talked to him quietly and gently. He hadn't insisted that Harry tell him about the nightmare, for which Harry was grateful. It was bad enough to see Sirius falling through the Veil and know that he was to blame. Harry knew he couldn't talk about it without breaking down. He really couldn't even think about it. The only thing that helped was remembering that he'd be able to be with Sirius again one day, hopefully soon.

Yes, Snape could have been horrible last night. But instead he'd been helpful, and...comforting. It was a nice change, and even though Harry was amazed and didn't understand why the professor was acting differently, he did find himself hoping that Snape's new attitude was genuine.

As they were finishing, Snape cleared his throat. "I was thinking that this morning might be a good time to begin your Defense training. We have a couple hours before lunch and it's not so warm now as it will be this afternoon."

Well, so much for not feeling tense and miserable, Harry thought wryly. He'd agreed to let Snape teach him, but now that the moment was at hand, Harry couldn't help feeling nervous about it. He just didn't know what was going on between Snape and himself, and he was tired of feeling anxious and confused and not knowing what to expect.

Snape had been so different lately, even being...kind, almost. He was even calling Harry by his first name. But...what if? What if it were a trick? Or what if Harry did something to make Snape angry again and everything reverted back to the way it had been?

After all, they'd never been able to work well at anything before. Visions of last year's Occlumency lessons came to Harry's mind and he sighed. He really should apologise for looking in Snape's Pensieve. Snape had been awful all along about Occlumency, but still Harry had to take some of the blame for their failure, too. He was almost afraid to mention it, afraid that it would remind Snape that he was supposed to hate Harry, but apologising was the right thing to do. Harry would have to do it as soon as he had a chance.

Right now he just hoped their Defense lessons would go more smoothly. Well, he would pay attention and try his best this time. He'd just have to hope that Snape would try, too. Spending the morning with Snape jeering and belittling him wouldn't be a lot of fun.

But his life wasn't about having fun, Harry reminded himself. It was about destroying Voldemort. He had to do that before he could do anything for himself, and Snape was a strong wizard. He could help Harry prepare, and if he was unpleasant about it...well, that didn't really matter, did it?

He looked back at Snape and nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Very well, then." Snape stood and started for the door, levitating the trays before him once again. "Get dressed and come out to the front lawn when you're ready."

When he was gone, Harry climbed out of bed and dressed in jeans, a blue T-shirt, and his old worn-out trainers. He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and tug a comb through his hair (not that it ever seemed to do much good), and then studied himself in the mirror for a minute.

He was too pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and was still too short and skinny for his age. It wasn't fair. Ron, Neville, and all the other guys were growing. Why wasn't he? Well, it was true that he hadn't eaten much lately, but still he didn't seem to have grown much at all over the past year and he hadn't been starving himself all that time.

Judging from the pictures he'd seen of them, his parents didn't seem to have been short. They hadn't been tall, perhaps, but they both looked as if they'd been average height at least. Harry sighed. With his luck, his growth had probably been permanently affected by malnutrition from living with the Dursleys when he'd been a little kid.

Well, at least he was still taller than the girls, though what difference did it make really? It wasn't as if any girl would be interested in him if she knew he was a slave. It was just as well, really, that he was going to go on and be with his parents and Sirius one day.

Thinking about that reminded Harry that he had to beat Voldemort first, and that Snape was waiting for him outside for a Defense lesson. He went back to his room, grabbed his wand, and hurried downstairs.