Harry awoke to the feeling of heavy, tingling limbs and a slight headache. He hadn’t felt this bad or this tired since he’d been tortured by the Death Eaters. Slowly, he opened his eyes, squinting at the light. He was in his single bed in what Snape called ‘The Sick Room,’ and Snape himself were lying on the other bed, his legs under the covers, a book propped open in his lap. They were both back in night shirts, Harry realized dimly.

As if Snape felt Harry’s gaze, he glanced over. Seeing that Harry was awake, he set down his book and scowled. “Potter, that was an idiotic, irresponsible, and foolish thing to do. Just what in Merlin’s name were you thinking?”

Harry studied the wizard across from him. He’d become accustomed to the man’s biting remarks, sarcastic wit, and frequent put-downs, but as he scrutinized the potions master, understanding dawned. Dobby must have told him that Harry had done for Snape what Snape had done for Harry: sacrificed his magic to save the other. Harry broke into a smile. “You’re welcome, sir.”

Snape looked as if he’d just sucked on a lemon.

Harry burst out laughing, but only for a moment. “Oh, my head,” he gasped, grasping the offending appendage as his headache roared to life.

Snape sighed theatrically and Harry thought he heard the words “idiotic Gryffindor.”

“Take this,” Snape’s voice called from the bed across the room.

Harry peered through his fringe to find a headache potion floating across the room to him. He looked over to see Snape holding his wand. Harry realized that this was the first time he’d seen Snape perform magic in all their time at the cottage.

“And I’ll thank you to remember that we are even now, Potter, and you needn’t mention this little incident again.”

Harry downed the potion and smiled at Snape’s frown before rolling over and going back to sleep.

“Checkmate.”

“You win, again,” Harry groaned. Playing Wizard’s Chess with Snape was akin to wrestling a dragon; Harry didn’t stand a chance. If Snape was trying to prove that his mind was superior to Harry’s with regard to logical thinking and thorough strategizing, he’d proven his point several times over.

 “You are nearly as good at Chess as you were at Occlumency,” Snape remarked.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry said around a yawn as he picked up the chess pieces and put them away. The fact that Snape had conceded to play chess at all was a mark of the level of boredom they’d reached being confined to the small cottage together, day after day, with nothing to do. “I think I’ll turn in early,” Harry said.

“Headache?” Snape inquired.

“Not exactly,” Harry replied, rubbing absently as his scar, “just... tired.” Harry didn’t know how to describe how he felt. There was a throbbing pressure in his head, though it wasn’t a headache, and it didn’t exactly hurt. It just felt odd. Harry stretched his limbs as he got up from the table. “Well, goodnight, sir. See you at breakfast.”

At Snape’s nod, Harry retired to the room with the two single beds. He changed into a nightshirt and blew out the candle on the nightstand. It had been almost two weeks since Harry had transferred enough magic to Snape to enable the potions master to shield his mind against Voldemort. Harry knew Voldemort must be exceedingly angry about not being able to exact revenge on Snape and was surprised he hadn’t felt Voldemort’s anger through their connection. Relieved as he was for the reprieve, he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t worried about what was to come. Surely the Dark Lord wouldn’t give up so easily, not when it involved the loss of himself at the hands of one of his most trusted followers.

“Nooooo, please! Please!”The words were followed by a high pitched scream that rent the cool, damp air.

“Where is Harry Potter?” The cruel voice demanded. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” the girl cried. “Please, I don’t know!”

“Crucio!”

The young witch’s long brown hair flew in all directions as she was flung against the wall of the dungeon, her head banging against the concrete with a sickening thud. Her screams echoed in the small space, blood dripping from her nose and mouth. Her pupils, which were dilated with terror, reflected the red eyes of the evil wizard torturing her.

“This is your last chance, Mudblood,” the dark wizard crooned, holding his wand deftly in his long, pale fingers, his thin lips pursed with impatience.

The witch shifted her gaze from Voldemort to the pale, blond wizard who stood in the corner watching the proceedings with a hungry sort of desperation. “Please, Draco...” she begged.

Draco Malfoy turned his cool grey eyes to her and smiled as he raised his wand and pointed it at her chest. “I don’t think so, Granger.”

At that second, Harry felt himself slip inside the Dark Lord’s mind. He was overcome with rage at the defiant, insolent, stupid Mudblood cowering before him, begging the Malfoy boy for mercy. As if he could help her now. As if anyone could. Raising his wand, he shouted, “Avada—”

“NOOOO!”

“Noooo!” Harry screamed as he bolted awake, sweat pouring from his skin, his scar on fire. He jumped out of bed just as his door banged open.

Snape stood ready to fight, wand outstretched, surveying the room for the threat. “What is it, Potter?”

“Hermione Granger,” Harry croaked around the ache in his throat. “Voldemort was torturing her to find my whereabouts. Draco Malfoy was there too. Malfoy must have kidnapped her and brought her to him, like he did me.” Harry paused for breath, his heart beating wildly.

“Potter,” Snape drawled, lowering his wand, “are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”

“It wasn’t a dream!” Harry shouted. “It was the same as with Ron’s dad. I was there. I saw it. I felt his anger. And then... and then I...” Harry trailed off, unable to admit that he had been the one to cast the killing curse. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Hermione...” Harry moaned, slumping back onto his bed, his head in his hands.

Harry glanced up briefly to see Snape standing rigid in a shaft of moonlight, head tilted slightly to one side, seeming to consider his options. When he spoke, his voice held no indecision: “Dobby!”

A loud pop rent the silence and a small house elf with colourful knit hats balanced atop pointy ears appeared. “Professor Snape called Dobby, sir?”

“Yes, Dobby, could you please return to Hogwarts and check to make sure Miss Hermione Granger is safely asleep in her bed?”

“Of course, Professor Snape, sir, Dobby would be happy to check on Miss Granger, sir.”

“Check on Mr. Weasley as well, will you? And then return here immediately with a report.”

The elf nodded and popped out of sight.

After a moment, Harry raised his head to look up at Snape. He swallowed against the constriction that had not dissipated. “If Voldemort...”

“Potter,” Snape interrupted, “there is no use continuing this conversation until we know if what you saw was real.”

 Harry bit back the retort he wanted to make. Of course it was real! He’d seen it, he’d been there! If Snape had been where Harry’d just been, he wouldn’t be second guessing...

A loud pop startled Harry out of his thoughts.

“Dobby is happy to report that Miss Granger and Miss Weasley, as well as Mr. Weasley, are all sleeping peacefully in their beds in Gryffindor tower.”

“Thank you, Dobby. You may go now.”

Harry felt stunned. “But I saw...”

“What you saw, Potter, was what the Dark Lord wanted you to see.”

Harry felt confused and outraged. He was sure what he’d seen had been real. He knew Dobby wouldn’t lie to him, but yet he could not reconcile what the elf had said with what he’d just witnessed.

Snape sighed. “This is yet another thing Dumbledore failed to tell you.”

“What didn’t he tell me?” Harry asked.

Snape waved his wand in the air; the numbers 03:10:07 shimmered before them. “It is far too late, or rather early, to discuss this now,” Snape said, pushing to his feet. “We shall discuss this in the morning. Now get some sleep.”

“Easy for you to say,” Harry mumbled.

Snape rolled his eyes and waved his wand wordlessly. In the next instant, a glass vial filled with a gleaming violet potion floated into the room and into Snape’s open palm. He uncorked it and handed it to Harry.

“Dreamless sleep?” Harry asked.

“Indeed,” Snape drawled.

Harry downed it in one gulp, grateful for the oblivion he knew would follow. Then he laid back on the bed and closed his eyes. ‘Hermione is safe at Hogwarts; ALL of my friends are safe at Hogwarts,’ he chanted to himself, over and over, as he waited for the potion to take effect. In the distance, he heard the click of a door closing as Snape retired to the master bedroom. Harry wondered briefly what new and disturbing revelations Snape had in store for him.