Two weeks passed after Harry’s revealing conversation with Severus.  Other than a few brief questions and answers about Harry’s mother, neither had spoken of their talk.  But Severus was working very diligently, behind the scenes, to find out exactly what kind of people the Dursleys were.

In Potions after the incident, Draco Malfoy looked positively woeful.  Harry could only assume that Snape made good on his promise.  The Gryffindor couldn’t help but smile with glee, picturing Malfoy getting a tongue lashing.

With Draco subdued for the foreseeable future, Harry was free to concentrate on his work.  He received an ‘Acceptable’ on his in-class assignment. It was nothing to sneeze at, considering his history in the subject.   

Harry and the Potions professor had struck a unique, tentative rapport.  They greeted each other in the hall, and inquired about each other’s day.  Their conversations were brief, no more than an exchange of pleasantries. Severus kept his administrative demeanor in every encounter, but catered just enough as not to scare his young student away.  He remained terrifyingly stern in the classroom and when surrounded by other company.  He did have a reputation to maintain.

Severus was still himself. He remained partial to his own House and discriminatory to Gryffindor.  He hadn’t lost that hard-edged disposition and scathing criticism.  However, he had let go the vicious, spiteful nature that used to epitomise his personality.

As for Harry, he went on about his days as usual. He found his brief encounters with his once hated professor decidedly good. One thing continued to trouble the Gryffindor boy. Every night, his head filled with dreams.  Harry didn’t particularly mind the dreams because the left him feeling a strange, familiar sense of comfort and contentment. What bothered him was the unknown.

Even taking dreamless sleep did not help.  Dreamless sleep potion was powerful stuff, but apparently, whatever de-aging magic that was causing him to remember was more powerful.  

Finally, Harry couldn’t help it anymore. He had to know. One evening, waiting until the last possible moment - at 9pm - he made his way down to the dungeons to find out once and for all what his dreams were about.

Harry knew he shouldn’t have been out after curfew.  It was just his luck that the Dementors choose that precise moment to attack.

***

Harry walked down the dimly lit corridors and shivered. He hunched his shoulders up and rubbed his arms at the chill that descended.   The cold didn’t concern the Gyffindor as he made his way deeper into Slytherin territory; the dungeons were often damp and chilly.  

Suddenly, Harry stopped in his tracks and looked back, thinking he had heard something. But he there was nothing there.  Harry kept walking.

Ahead of him, shadows seemed seep out of the walls and grow and lengthen like ghosts.  Harry slowed to another stopped, staining his eyes in the dim hall.  There was a crawling sensation down his back.  Something felt out of place. A rapid sensation of fear settled in his gut and Harry instinctively went for his wand.  

“Lumos Maximus,” the boy muttered. Alone in the corridor, he was afraid to speak any louder than a whisper.  His phoenix feather wand activated immediately, and shined a spotlight in the space in front of him. 

But he saw nothing.

The only thing the boy could hear was the sound of his own heart as it galloped against his chest.

That was when the Dementors attacked.  Charging forward, the ghostly figures revealed themselves and sailed towards Harry, emitting a terrible noise - or maybe, that was just Harry, screaming.

***

“Ex… P…tro!”

Severus heard a bone chilling scream, a shout and a spell being cast. He strained to hear what the spell was, but it was muffled.

The combat ready wizard took off running as far as he could towards chilling cries.  A student was being attacked, probably one of the upper years boys by the sound of it. But by who or what?  The screams were terrifying, and reminded Severus of the terrible things he’d seen as a spy.  He hoped that this was a thoughtless prank or maybe a boggart, something innocent that could be easily resolved.

But as he got closer, Severus knew that this was no prank and there was no boggart.  There were Dementors! He could feel them.  Dementors had gotten into Hogwarts! Why would Dementors be… Severus could recognize the voice now….Harry! No!

***

Harry was, unfortunately, all too familiar with the dark creatures.  He had fought them before, had won and lost against them.  Knowing what to do when met with the faceless demons did not make it easy to defeat them.

Nothing was harder than facing Dementors.  Even when he faced Voldemort all those times, and was frightened half to death, he could will himself to think clearly. The Dementors were another story. The monsters played with his mind, projected negative emotions and multiplied them over and over until he couldn’t think of anything but dread and sorrow.

The young Gryffindor held his wand ahead of him with determination.  Harry tried, he really did.  But the Dementors were hungry and strong, and there seemed to be dozens of them. Harry managed to cast two full Patronus that had held the creatures away for a whole minute.  But as his strength drained, Harry stumbled backwards and his Patronus shield flickered. 

Harry had accomplished many things with sheer power of will and determination, with a side of luck. Refusing to give up, he raised his wand with shaky hands and thought of the happiest memory he could.  He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at the monsters and focused on finding an image that symbolized sheer happiness.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Harry screamed, putting everything he could into to those words and he felt magic tear out of his wand, towards his enemies.

Before Harry fainted, he realized that he had brought up the image of Snape.

***

Severus twisted around the corner and saw a horde of Dementors at the other end of the hall.  A brilliant light peeked through the mass of dark shadows in what he assumed was Harry’s Patronus. He reached inside his mind and casted his own powerful Patronus charm.  The man squinted his eyes as a blinding light jetted out of his wand and a doe sprang forward, galloping towards the creatures, making them scatter.  His charm was a powerful one and the Dementors shrieked as they swarmed over each other trying to get away.  

When the initial flash faded, Severus opened his eyes.  The Dementors were gone but the feelings of despair lingered.  Severus shook off the despairing sensation as he stared at the scene in front of him. In the middle of the corridor were two deer; a doe and a stag.  They stood facing each other, giving off a warm yellow light. With the Dementors gone and their masters safe, the Patronus touched noses and dissolved, plunging the hall into torch lit darkness. 

Severus lifted his head and looked down the hall.  He saw a body lying in a heap on the floor, robes in a jumble.  He raced forward and knelt next to the boy, his panic felt like waves crashing on rocky seashore. 

“Harry? Harry?”

Severus touched Harry’s cheek and breathed out a sigh of relief as he felt the warmth of a body that still had life and soul.  He picked up the limp form and carried it to the Hospital Wing.

***

“This was not a coincidence,” said Severus, leaning against a wall at the entrance hospital wing.  He looked over at the figure sleeping in the bed at the other side of the room and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I believe it was a premeditated attack on Mr. Potter,” he finished, turning back to Dumbledore.

The headmaster looked furious as he nodded in agreement and said in a tired voice. “This attack and the one upon Harry during the summer are linked. Unfortunately, the culprit of that attack has not been found yet.”

“But you must have some idea?” Severus asked, fretting.  “The Dark Lord, presumably?”

“Yes,” said Dumbledore with lines of stress on his forehead as he turned and opened the door. “Walk with me, Severus. Harry will be safe here.”

Severus spun his head to look at Harry again, just as Madam Pomfrey rolled curtains around the bed, giving her patient some privacy as he slept.   He followed the headmaster out the door.

Dumbledore continued once they were out of the room. “Or somebody who sympathizes with his regime, looking to gain favour by attacking Harry. Perhaps they sought to discredit Harry or weaken him.”

“Discredit him? To what end?”

Dumbledore looked at Severus gravely. “You and I both know what happened in the graveyard is only the beginning.  Every day the Ministry spends in denial, is a day Voldemort is free to gather his resources and grow stronger.”

Severus cringed that the Dark Lord’s name. Even after all these years, he still hated hearing it. But it was obvious a long time ago that Albus Dumbledore was never going to call the dark wizard by any other name.  He nodded in understanding. “Of course, and the longer the Ministry remains ignorant…”

“The longer Voldemort can work without interference.”

The Potions Master sighed, shaking his head in vexation. “Potter is sensitive to Dementors, is he not?”

“He is, and for good reasons,” said the old headmaster, putting on a frown as he thought deeply. “We will need to keep a very close eye on Harry.  He is strong, but he is still young.”

Severus rubbed his hands against his face. “When have we not been keeping an eye on the troublesome boy? Yet, not a year goes by that I don’t have to save his life.”

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment, as if to gather his emotions. “I’m sorry, Severus.  It’s not going to get any easier. Voldemort’s power grows and our task will only become harder.”

Severus nodded grimly.

“Well. One of our problems is solved at least,” said Dumbledore, his eyes soften as he pulled his lips into a small, genuine smile. The simple gesture made him look thirty years younger.

“What is that?”

“At the beginning of the year I was afraid that Voldemort had created a link with Harry, a result of his return to a corporeal form.  I have been trying to avoid the child all year.  The poor boy must think I have abandoned him.”

“You are only doing what is best for Potter, in the long run.”

“I know.  But my fictitious indifference troubled him greatly. I don’t enjoy it. Severus. But at the time, it couldn’t be helped.  I am pleased to say that I may not have to keep up this charade for any longer.  If what I suspect is true, then our task is a few degrees easier. “

Severus waited in trepidation for the headmaster to continue.

“I believe that Harry’s connection to Voldemort has vanished along with his scar.”

Severus’ eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

Dumbledore stroked his long white beard. “I cannot be one hundred percent certain. But my instincts, as well as the evidence, tell me that the connection is no more.”

Severus let the information sink in for several seconds before replying. “Who’s to say that the scar and the connection will not return? “

“We can only hope, Severus.  We cannot let our guard down. Harry has a great number of enemies and Voldemort a great many supporters…”

“And I might not be there the next time they choose to siege an attack on Potter,” Severus finished Dumbledore’s thoughts.

They stopped in front of the Griffin leading up to the headmaster’s office.

“Yes. I do not know how the Dementors got into the school.  But mark my words, Severus, I will find out who is behind these heinous attacks. In the meantime, I will tell the others to be extra vigilant.  I’ll inform Minerva and Filius and have them set up extra security measures. We will do what we can to keep Harry safe.”

Severus nodded curly.

“Why don’t you get some rest, Severus,” the headmaster urged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bar of dark chocolate. “You should have some chocolate too.”

“I’m fine, Albus,” Severus dismissed, even though he could feel a migraine pounding inside his skull.

“Nonsense. Take that chocolate with you back to the hospital wing.”

Severus took the chocolate from the headmaster’s wrinkly hands. “I do not need to go to the hospital wing. Thank you again for your concern. But I am fine and I prefer sleep in my own quarters.”

The older wizard smiled knowingly, “I didn’t say you needed to stay in the hospital. Only that you are headed back there. Were you not?”

“No. Why would I?”

“Well, you do what you think is best, my boy,” said the elderly headmaster as he stepped into the Griffin stairway and yawned. “I am feeling rather drowsy.  Give my regards to Harry.”

With that, Albus Dumbledore spoke the password and lifted out of sight, leaving Severus alone in the hall.  The potions master grumbled under his breath as he tore opened the wrappings and bit into the chocolate. The sweet took the edge off of his headache, though he would need at least a night’s sleep before the effects of the Dementors ebbed.

Severus didn’t sleep a wink that evening, despite his body and mind pleading for him to do so.  He sat up all night, keeping vigil by Harry’s bed while the teenager snored.

***

Harry was excused for his morning classes so he could recover from the attack.  The young Gryffindor enjoyed a breakfast of fresh strawberries, chocolate pancakes and chocolate milk.  Although the nasty effects produced by contact with Dementors were mostly gone, Harry clearly remembered what it was like. 

He had no idea how he got to the hospital wing or if it was him that drove off the Dementors. When he asked Madam Pomfrey, the nurse told him that Professor Snape had carried him there in the middle of the night, unconscious.  They had to force feed him potions to help him sleep peacefully.

Harry insisted he was fine, but the zealous nurse refused to let him out of the hospital, saying that she wanted to monitor his condition for a few more hours.  So he waited in his bed, grumbling to himself about how dull it was.

By noon he had nearly nodded off out of sheer boredom.

That was when Severus arrived, with immaculate timing, a mug of hot chocolate in one hand.

“Soul still intact, Mr. Potter?” Severus drawled as he handed Harry the mug of sweet liquid.  “How are you feeling?”

Harry took the mug with both hands. “Thank you, sir. I feel fine. But Madam Pomfrey doesn’t think so.”

“Madam Pomfrey knows best.  You were under attack by at least a dozen Dementors.  You did very well holding them off. However, the effects of such substantial Dementor contact can last for days.”

Harry pulled a face. “But I feel fine, professor.”

“No doubt from the heinous amounts of chocolate you are currently devouring,” Severus said with distaste.

“I like chocolate,” Harry muttered, taking a gulp of the hot chocolate and wiping the foam from his lip.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “You’ll be sick of chocolate before the week is over, Potter.”

“I doubt it, professor.”

“Hmm,” Severus responded shortly and rolled his eyes, as if to say; we’ll see about that.

“Madam Pomfrey told me that you carried me here last night?” Harry asked.

“I did, Mr. Potter. After I found you under attack by Dementors near my office. Speaking of which, what were you doing there at that time of night?

“Oh…”

“Oh?  Is that all you have to say?  

“Um…well…” Harry mumbled with apprehension.

“Why were you out after curfew, Mr. Potter? Again?” Severus said sternly. “I have told you numerous times. Curfew is there for a reason. It is not an arbitrary rule that you can choose to obey or disobey to your fancy!”

Harry hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you have any idea what could have happened?  If I had not been there?”

Harry’s gaze slid to look down into the mug of brown liquid and bit his lip.  He knew exactly what could have happened, he’d come far too close to getting his soul sucked out more than once.  But he held his tongue, correctly deducing that it was a rhetorical question.

“You cannot keep doing this, Potter!”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said meekly.

Severus heaved out a sigh frustration, and rubbed his temple.

“I was coming to see you. I had some questions,” Harry explained.

 “You had questions?  Was it an urgent matter?”

Harry shook his head.  “No, professor.”

“Then what about it was so vital that it couldn’t wait until morning?”

Harry shrugged.

“Shrugging is not an answer, Mr. Potter,” Severus drawled.

“Well…I,” Harry sucked in a breath and looked up at Severus. “Do you remember what I said a few weeks ago, about the dreams I was having being memories and stuff?”

“Yes?”

“I think they are memories. Well…Ron and Hermione reckon, and me too I guess, that it’s the magic that’s making me remember.  I mean, I can’t remember anything from when I was really one, except for…well yeah.” Harry drifted off, not wanting to talk about the other thing he remembered  - his mother’s dying screams and the green light of the killing curse.

Severus waited for Harry to continue.

“Um, I was just hoping that maybe I could find out? For sure what they are? I mean, you would know right?”

Severus gazed at Harry with a look of interest. “Yes, I could help you, Mr. Potter. What kinds of things do you recall dreaming about?”

"Uhh, you know…just stuff. I remember you carrying me around and talking to me and kind of….I guess, playing with me," Harry recalled running a hand through his hair. “You yelled at me a lot too,” he accused. “Who would yell at a baby anyway?”

Severus tilted his head the tiniest bit to the side, and said lightly. “You will have to be more specific than that. In any event, you yelled at me first, Mr. Potter.  Although shriek would be a more accurate verb. In fact, you made so much noise that I was extremely tempted to remove your vocal cords.”

“You wouldn’t do that,”

“Do you wish to test your hypothesis?”

Harry shook his head fervently.

“I thought not.”

“Was I really annoying?”

“All babies are annoying, Mr. Potter.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize. You could not help it.”

Harry smiled despite himself. "In one dream, I was lost and I think I was trying to find you."

"Did you?"

"No, you found me." Harry said softly. For a few seconds, Harry and Severus made eye contact. Harry had rarely looked Snape in the eyes because he was always afraid that he'd only see anger and hate. Looking at Snape now, Harry saw none of that. Snape's eyes were black and hard, but they were not cold, angry or hateful.  Harry saw warmth that was not soft like Hagrid's or glowing like Dumbledore's, but something altogether different ad unique and it shouldn’t make him feel comfortable at all but it did.  Harry blinked and broke eye contact, but he still kept his face up, eyes settling to focus on Snape’s forehead.

"I remember," Severus recollected as he called to mind the incident when Harry had gotten himself lost and was wandering the corridors blind as a sonar-less bat.

"You…do?" Harry said in wonder. "That means…it really happened?"

"I don’t know if your dreams are manifestations of real memories.  I will have to know more details to come to any conclusion.  We can find out, if you wish. You will have to tell me about more of your dreams, and in greater detail.”

"I…maybe," Harry began but then he stopped.  He studied Severus’ expression as he debated with himself, trying to let go of the pervasive mistrust that had formed in him of the Potions professor.

Two voices shouted at Harry in his head. One of resentment and suspicion, the other of forgiveness, curiosity and yearning.  Undecided, the boy thought back to the last few months and remembered; Snape didn’t mock him in class but instead gave him advice and corrected him with patience.  Outside of the classroom, he greeted Harry and asked him causal questions about his day and Quidditch.  He was never scathing in his rebukes or unfair in his punishments. 

Harry nodded. "Yes…I think I’d like that. I want to know.”

Severus let himself smile. "Very well. Tomorrow evening. You may come to my officer after supper and we will discuss it.”

“Alright,” said Harry as he grinned shyly.   “Thanks, professor.”

“You are welcome, Mr. Potter,” Severus replied as he stood up.

“Wait, sir, there’s something else…”

“Quickly, Potter. I have a class I need to get to.”

“Yes, sir. It’s just that...I mean, Remus, he taught me the charm in Third Year. And he said that I had to be concentrating on a single, happy memory.  That’s what I did this summer, I concentrated really hard on the memory of coming to Hogwarts.”

“But this time it was different?” Severus guessed.

“This time it was different, yea,” echoed Harry. “This time I don’t even think I did it consciously…I don’t think. My head just thought of the image and before I knew it, I had conjured the Patronus.”

“Yes,” Severus responded. “That can happen. If one knows how to cast the Patronus well enough, the action that accompanies it becomes almost instinctive.  Your mind will seek out a memory that is most distinct embodiment of happiness.”

“Oh.”

“What memory did you use?” Severus inquired, now curious.

“I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?” Severus said incredulously. “How can you forget something like that?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “I just remember an image, not the whole memory.”

“Then what was the image?”

Harry hesitated.

“Well?” Severus pushed.

“You.”

Severus remained speechless, not knowing how to respond.

Harry huffed. “See, I told you it was all jumbled up. “

Severus found himself agreeing with that statement.

***

The following day, Harry actually looked forward to seeing his onetime caretaker.  They talked at length about his memories and Severus shared his own version of the events in Harry’s dreams.  They confirmed the theory of Harry’s dreams being memories. Every single dream Harry recalled turned out to have really happened – though Harry had left out the particularly embarrassing ones. 

One night turned into two, and two turned into twice a week.  Eventually, even the embarrassing ones were talked about.  Harry leaned a lot about Severus during these conversations, like the fact that he had a wicked and somewhat dark sense of humour.    

However, there were only so many different memories one could have about something that happened in the span of one month.   One evening in February, Harry went down to Severus’ quarters, sat down on his sofa with a cuppa and began to talk, only to be informed that they’ve discussed that dream before.  Harry had run out of dreams.

After that, they struggled to find other things to occupy the hour.  There were several awkward moments of silence when neither spoke, but both wracking their heads for something to say. Harry didn’t go to Severus’ quarters for two weeks.  Until he got detention with the Potions Master, and ended up going to bed with a smile on his face and a belly full of apple cider.

As time went by, Harry’s baby dreams became rarer and fewer, until having them became a memory itself.   Harry and Severus found other things to talk about during their meetings. In forming rapport with Harry, Severus found that there were many things the child kept hidden and vehemently refused to discuss.   He did not put pressure on Harry to talk about the delicate subjects.  He was neither the child’s father nor mind healer, and it was not his place to order Harry to disclose his personal life.   If Harry wanted to talk, the he would listen.

In the years that followed, Harry found confidence in Severus and willingly went to the wizard for advice.

Harry sometimes wished he could dream once again of his time as a toddler and experience the sedate content feel he had afterwards. But then he’d realize that he didn’t need the dreams to make him feel that way, he could just go talk with Severus, literally – they did live together now.

For the Boy Who Lived, life wasn’t easy and his troubles didn’t end at the end of Fifth year.  The years that followed were filled with turmoil and struggle.  The battle against Voldemort lasted ages and he lost a number of good friends. But Harry had one more person to rely on to help him through it.

For Severus Snape, life was never dull or peaceful again, not since he took Harry Potter into his home. Gone were the days of privacy and solitary bliss, replaced by the chaos raising a teenager.  Harry saved his life, in more ways than one.  During the last days of the war, Harry saved him with a bezoar and tearily informed him that it was from a stomach of a goat, and could cure most poisons.  Severus called him a insolent, cheeky brat.  

The Boy Who Lived to Cause Gray Hairs, as Severus dubbed him, was more trouble than he was worth.   Severus wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Everything was decidedly good.