Harry awoke in the darkened sitting room and sat up wondering just how he’d wound up out there on the couch. But then he saw the CAST NO SPELLS card on the coffee table and remembered.

“Shit,” he said softly then grabbed his spectacles from next to the card and slumped back against the couch.

He stared across the darkened room and slowly recalled all that had been told to him earlier: that his magic had now doubled in strength but that he was injured or sick or something, and that he wasn’t supposed to do any magic for … how long?  He couldn’t remember.

He absently took hold of the amulet with the intent to slide it back and forth along its chain, a habit he’d picked up over the months of wearing it, but something was wrong. The amulet didn’t feel right.

He lifted it and held it in front of him then gasped when he saw that the amulet had broken.

“Nooo,” Harry whispered. When did that happen? he wondered as he rubbed the small remaining fragment back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. It must have broken when that thing happened to me.

Now he could see the auras, as Channon called them, of objects and could perceive how they interacted with those of other objects and how his magic fit into all of this. It was all so obvious now.

Then Harry recalled clearly what happened when he turned and saw Snape standing next to him, how he looked into the man’s eyes and saw all that he was: his memories, his wounds and sadness, his confusion and intellect, those feelings he kept buried deep within. All these things presented themselves to Harry in only a matter of seconds.

The experience was overwhelming and it had come on the heels of the culmination of his full magical power. It was all too much, all at once: the auras, his magic … Snape.

That was all he could remember. After that everything had turned black and now he was sitting on his couch, holding his broken amulet and God he had to pee.

Harry struggled to stand and the room immediately began to spin.

He bent over and grabbed hold of the mantle until the swaying stopped. Then he tried again, but this time — slowly.

He felt lightheaded but figured he could make it to the loo, so he walked into his bedroom and that’s when he saw Snape asleep on top of his bed.

Harry approached quietly and stared at the sleeping man.

A shaft of moonlight illuminated Snape’s face in a pale opalescent light. He was lying on his side and the light sheet covering him had slipped down, exposing his right arm and back.

Harry saw the scars on his back and knew exactly how Snape had received them, just as he knew everything about him now.

Harry knew in an instant what was happening as he recalled the memory of a gray mist, of being frightened and of someone screaming.

Then Snape called out. Harry ran immediately to the bedroom and saw his professor sitting bolt upright in the bed, staring about the room. He was obviously disoriented as to where he was, so Harry went over and knelt tentatively beside the bed.

“It’s all right Sir. It was only a dream.”

For Severus, to be caught-out in such a weak moment was unacceptable and he defended himself in the way he’d come to rely upon, “I am not in need of a nurse maid, Mr. Potter. Get out this instant!”

The words stung even though Harry knew exactly why Snape had acted that way, but he wasn’t going to take it — not anymore.

“Listen!” Harry snapped back, “I know you just had that nightmare but you know what? Fuck you! If anyone has a right to be in a bad mood — it’s me. I feel like shit and Goddammit, this is my bedroom!”

They stared daggers at each other for a moment then Harry whirled around and marched out of the room, staggered across the sitting room then out to the balcony where he promptly leaned against the stone wall and slid to the floor.

Everything began to spin terribly and he thought he might sick-up. “Oh God, I feel sick.” He layed all the way down, tucked his knees to his chest and hoped this horrible feeling would soon pass.

Back in the bedroom Severus was still sitting up in the bed, utterly livid over what had just transpired.

How dare he! Severus seethed. And then with a stern determination, he threw back the sheet, stood up and stormed out to the sitting room.

But Harry wasn’t there.

So Severus stomped into the kitchen but Harry wasn’t there either.

The coward, Severus thought heatedly, then he turned back and looked toward the French doors.

The fact that Harry knew about the nightmare confirmed to Severus his suspicion that somehow the imp had looked into his soul that night in the Room of Requirement. But damn him if he thought he could use this information to his advantage.

He stalked toward the French doors, ready to let loose a verbal tirade upon the brat. At this point he didn’t give a fuck how powerful Harry was. He knew too much and Severus interpreted that knowledge as a threat.

He stepped out onto the balcony ready for the confrontation, but all that greeted him was the sight of Harry curled up and shaking on the stone floor with a puddle of bile in front of him.

The sight snapped Severus from his self-absorbed campaign and he rushed to the teen’s side.

“Let me help you.”

“Get … away.” Harry was shaking so badly, it was difficult for him to speak.

“Please listen Harry, I apologize. I was caught off guard.”

“I don’t … give a fuck.” Harry began to throw up again but now all he had was the dry heaves as there was nothing in his stomach to come up. 

Severus suddenly realized that Harry hadn’t eaten since the dinner they shared the night before, at that the little tratoria on the Ponte Vecchio, and he could have cursed himself now for not thinking to try and get Harry to eat a little bit that day.

Severus wanted to cast a Warming charm — but he couldn’t. He wanted to call the elves for help — but he couldn’t. He couldn’t use any magic near Harry and he looked to the sky and growled in frustration.

In response, Harry tried to pull away — but he couldn’t. He was pinned between Snape and the wall.

“Leave … me … alone,” Harry’s voice was barely audible, and his pathetic plea negated Severus’s tirade.

Knowing that it was his anger and frustration that had created this horrid situation, Severus determined to get a grip on himself before he made matters worse.

He pulled the cloth down from off the table and used it to wipe away the vomit, then he bent down and looked Harry in the eye.

“Please,” Severus implored as he pushed the damp fringe away from Harry’s clammy brow. “You don’t have to forgive me, but please let me help you.”

He opened his eyes and, as best he could and shot Snape an angry glare. “Okay but … don’t pull that shit… on me ... again.”

He knew what Harry’s demand referred to: no more tirades, no more evil Death Eater personas. Save that ‘shit,’ as Harry had called it, for the students and the other Death Eaters.

It was all he could do to get the young man to the bedroom and into bed.

“I’m going to get help,” Severus whispered in Harry’s ear. Then he raced to the portrait and out into the hallway where he found two elves, waiting to serve.

Severus sent one to his quarters for a special blend of tea and the other elf down to the kitchen for a bowl of warm broth.

An hour or so later, Harry lay resting comfortably in his bed. The tea had alleviated his symptoms and he’d finally been able to take some of the broth. And even though the elves had offered, Severus had insisted that he would clean up Harry.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

August first dawned bright and sunny, and hot.

Harry was under strict orders, via a note from Madame Pomfrey to STAY IN BED, for at least two days. So he spent this one opening his gifts and cards, and responding to the stack of letters which had arrived.

Everyone was upset that Dumbledore had cancelled Harry’s birthday celebration, and they were now on a campaign to reschedule the event.

Without the use of his magic, Harry had to resort to using the wax from a burning candle to seal each of his letters.

Hedwig had watched all this activity with great interest and hooted when he collected the letters and handed them to her for delivery.

But the snowy owl backed up in disdain at the wax smudged pile of parchment.

“Look Hedwig, I know they’re a bit messy, but it’s the best I can do right now.”

She looked down at the smutched cargo and hooted her disapproval.

“I can’t use any magic right now, you know that. Please,” he implored. “Please deliver these for me.”

Hedwig loved Harry and would do anything for him, even deliver this embarrassing pile of correspondence. So she jumped over, gave him a peck of disapproval, then clasped the bundle in her talons and flew out of the bedroom.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Severus was sitting out on the balcony organizing his research notes regarding the new visum perfisio potion he was developing when he saw Hedwig fly by carrying a bundle of letters.

Deciding that he couldn’t put it off any longer, he tossed his quill on the table and headed in to go and have a much needed talk with Harry.

“Are you asleep?” Severus asked softly as he stood now in the doorway.

“May I come in? We need to talk.”

The teen nodded but immediately felt apprehensive as he watched Snape enter and place a chair next to the bed.

“Harry …”

Here it comes; he’s gonna expel me for swearing. What were you thinking …?

“I want to apologize to you for my behavior last evening,” Severus said in his smooth baritone voice. “I was upset at being caught during a vulnerable moment; you suffered the consequences.”

It took Harry a moment to find his voice, “I don’t know what to say Sir.”

“I understand if you’re upset …”

“It’s not that,” he interrupted. “What I meant was, I’m the one who needs to apologize to you … Sir. I yelled at you! I swore!”

“Yes I am aware of that fact,” Severus said as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. “I understand why you did it, but try not to make it a habit.”

Harry blushed and gave a little grin, “No Sir … I mean yes Sir, I won’t.” 

Now that they had resolved that matter, Severus turned his attention to one more threatening yet unavoidable. “Tell me … How is it you know about my nightmare?”

“You mean … you don’t already know?”

“I have an idea, but I am uncertain.” Severus crossed his arms which Harry had learned throughout their many conversations and time spent together meant that his professor felt uncomfortable or threatened.

“I uh … I’m not sure how to describe it,” he paused and shrugged his shoulders. “The other night, right after my…”

“Transition.”

“Yeah, my transition. Well, when I looked at you, I could see … everything.” 

“What do you mean by ‘everything'?”

“Everything about,” he swallowed nervously then finished in a very small voice. “Everything about you.”

His statement confirmed Severus’s suspicions and his worst fear. “Are you quite certain?”

Harry remained silent.

“Perhaps you are mistaken.”

Harry closed his eyes and said softly, “I know how you got those scars.”

Severus stiffened.

“Your father did that to you when you were a little boy.” He opened his eyes but his gaze was unfocused as pictured the memory he’d seen, “It was winter time and you were cold. He came into your room and…”

Severus held up his hand. “That is quite enough.” He got up and turned to leave.

“Please don’t go Sir!” Harry pleaded. “I understand how it feels.”

Severus stopped in the doorway upon hearing those words and leaned against the jamb as he realized that Harry did indeed understand how it felt to be abused.

“It was the same for me,” the young wizard continued. “All those Occlumency lessons, you saw how I lived. And you’ve known all my secrets now for years.”

“That’s different.”

“Why? Why is it different?” Harry’s voice began to rise, “Because now these are your secrets and not mine?”

Severus finally turned around and looked into the green eyes that were bright with emotion, “It would seem you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Sir, have you ever told anyone my secrets?”

“I would never do that.”

“Well neither would I.” Harry drew a shaky breath in an attempt to calm down. “I promise Sir, I’ll never tell anyone what I know.”

Severus drew in his own breath, but his was one of defeat. “I will have to take your word on that, Mr. Potter.”

He hadn’t called Harry ‘Mr. Potter’ for weeks; hearing it now made Harry’s heart sink. “Please don’t call me that.”

“I won’t if you’ll stop calling me Sir.” Severus actually smiled a tiny bit. “It does seem rather out of place, considering our situation.”

“What should I call you?”

“I do have a name.”

Harry gave a nervous chuckle. “Okay Se … Severus.”

The two wizards looked at each as they considered the familiarity and closeness that was developing between them.

“Are you hungry? I’ll fix you some lunch,” Severus offered.

But instead of answering his question, Harry pulled a chain out from under his T-shirt. 

“It broke,” He said simply as he looked over to the older man and lifted up the amulet.

Severus walked over and gently took the amulet into his hand. “Yes, I saw that when I helped you to bed after your transition.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing for which to apologize; it was an unfortunate accident.”  Severus handed back the amulet. “They are very rare. I know of no others.” But the teen’s crestfallen look spurred him to add, “Perhaps the Headmaster knows of a source.”

Harry looked up into the ebony eyes, eyes that had always seemed cold and mysterious but that were now softer somehow and compassionate. “Thanks Severus.”

~~~~~SH~~~~~