When Harry finally awoke from his magical sleep, he felt much better than he had before. His fingers and toes ached a little, but nothing like they had while Snape was massaging them. He sat up, wondering why he felt so very warm, and his hand touched the Wise One's scales. He glanced down and realized he had been sleeping on the golden snake. Merlin! I've been treating her like a mattress! Why didn't Snape put me on the ground once he was done torturing me? He felt himself flush, first for treating the revered snake, whose sire was a god, like a piece of furniture, and then for accusing the professor of torture, when he knew perfectly well that Snape had only done what was necessary to save his feet and hands.

He started to sit up, and only then did he see Snape slumbering next to him, his mouth open slightly, snoring a bit. Harry just gaped for about two seconds, then he started to snigger. Who would have thought that Snape, the great dungeon bat, snored? Merlin, but it was too funny! Well, look at his nose, Harry. He's got such a crooked beak, no wonder he snores. Harry's green eyes danced with mischief and he peered at the unsuspecting Snape, who must have had that nose broken at one time, for surely no one was born with a nose that crooked?

Snape gave a sort of snuffling snore, then coughed. Harry drew back, then an imp of mischief possessed him. He withdrew a handkerchief filched from Snape's pocket and dangled it in front of his teacher's nose, smothering laughter as it blew back and forth in time to Snape's snores. Then he lowered it, inch by inch, until it tickled Severus's nose. Teasingly, he made it brush Snape's skin, and was rewarded with a sudden sneeze.

Harry lowered the handkerchief again, smirking widely.

"Ahh-ahh-CHOO!"

Severus sneezed so violently that he woke himself up.

Harry found himself staring right into those bright obsidian orbs. "Oops! Uh . . . good morning, professor!"

Severus frowned upon seeing the handkerchief dangling from Harry's fingers. "Potter, why are you holding my handkerchief that way?"

Harry gulped. How could he have been so stupid as to play a stupid joke on Snape, who was known for his utter lack of humor? "Err . . .ahh . . .I was . . .umm . . ."

The obsidian eyes narrowed. "Was that handkerchief, perhaps, the reason why I find myself sneezing all of a sudden?"

Harry dropped his eyes. "Err . . .maybe . . ."

"Do you know the Hogwarts motto, Potter?"

Harry blinked. Snape was not acting at all how he expected. Where was the sneer, the sharp tongue that flayed him raw? "Umm . . .it's . . .never tickle a sleeping dragon." He replied after a few moments of frantic thought. Luckily, Hermione had mentioned that just yesterday. So at least he didn't look like a total dunce, like he usually did in front of Snape.

Severus looked startled that he knew the correct answer. "Exactly. There is another saying very similar to that one. It is never tickle a sleeping Potions Master. Because a Slytherin always gets even."

Harry blanched when he saw the evil gleam in Snape's eyes. He started to slide backwards. But he was too slow.

Snape snapped his fingers and a quill levitated out of his pocket and began to tickle Harry unmercifully about the neck and beneath the arms, making him start laughing uncontrollably. He rolled about, giggling, until he finally gasped, "Please, sir! No more! You almost made me . . .wet myself."

Snape cancelled the spell after one last poke. "Serves you right."

The quill fluttered into Snape's lap.

Harry wiped his eyes and then realized that Snape had actually teased him back! It was so amazing to discover that his snarky professor was acting like a normal person for once that he couldn't respond. Who would have thought that Snape could be so . . .sneakily playful? "Sorry, sir. But I couldn't resist." He admitted cheekily.

"Do try and restrain yourself, Potter," said the potions professor dryly.

Harry stared down at the snake scales and muttered, "I can't believe we're lying on her. How did I get here?"

"She put you here, as she did me." Severus answered quietly, not wishing to disturb the snake's slumber. "Now, why don't you try and speak quietly so she can sleep in peace?"

"All right," agreed Harry. Then he grimaced. His bladder was uncomfortably full and he really needed to find a bathroom. "Err . . .sir . . .I have to . . .go."

"Go where?" Severus repeated incredulously. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a blizzard outside, Potter, and you are still suffering from exposure and hypothermia. You aren't going anywhere, unless it's back to Hogwarts. I didn't spend all my time fixing your feet and hands only to have you ruin my hard work by—"

"No! No, you don't understand, sir. I didn't mean I was going to leave, I just need to use a bathroom." Harry sputtered, flushing.

Severus frowned. This hadn't occurred to him before, but it should have. He quickly slid off the Wise One's coils and stood on the ground. He still felt a lingering tiredness and his cough had worsened, but not enough for him to be concerned about it. Snape quickly walked to the other side of the snake and then called out to Harry. "Come, Potter. I shall assist you."

"Huh? But I don't need any assistance," protested Harry, sliding down before he could think better of it.

""I don't want you injuring your feet all over again, they're very tender at this stage," Severus argued. He bent and lifted Harry off his feet.

"Put me down! I can walk," Harry squealed.

Severus ignored him and started to walk towards the back of the cave.

"Where are you taking me?"

Severus reached a point almost at the very back of the cave, where a small freshet of flowing water was running through the rocky floor, and set Harry down. A wave of his wand Transfigured a rock into a porcelain commode. "There. That should be adequate."

He turned and walked a few feet away, pretending to ignore Harry's bright red ears.

Harry was tempted to accuse him of deliberate embarrassment, then supposed it could have been worse. At least it wasn't a bedpan. He quickly used the facilities, washing off his hands in the freshet, which was icy cold. He dried his hands on the end of his robe.

When he looked up, Snape was by his side. "Finished, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes." Harry knew he was blushing. "I can walk, sir."

"You can, but I would advise against it right now." Before the boy could protest yet again, Severus picked him up. He found Harry a featherweight for his age, and scowled inwardly. Being underweight suggested that he had been starved in addition to the neglect he had suffered. He's nothing but skin and bones. Bloody skinflint Muggles!

Harry was trying hard to pretend he wasn't being carried like a baby by his least favorite professor, and so missed the glower that appeared on Severus' features. But the twelve-year-old couldn't help but marvel at the sinewy strength in Snape's arms. The professor carried him effortlessly, and Harry felt oddly safe with him doing so. Strange, this was the first time Harry could recall Snape touching him voluntarily, unlike Dumbledore, who was forever giving him a friendly clap on the shoulder. Snape was much more reserved, Ron and Harry had joked once that the Potions Master was colder than ice, without a shred of emotion. But now, with Snape holding him, Harry started to doubt that early assessment. Snape was carrying him firmly but gently, not like one would carry, say, a sack of potatoes. The fact that he was carrying Harry at all spoke volumes. Would a man that hated him bother with worrying about his frostbitten feet? Or fixing them in the first place?

Confused, Harry remained silent until Severus set him down next to the slumbering serpent.

To his surprise, Snape sat down across from him and eyed him sternly. Uh oh. Here it comes. He's going to take away 100 points and give me detention for the rest of the year.

Instead, Snape asked him something totally unexpected. "Potter, why in your mad dash outside did you not think to put on a coat beforehand? Especially after I had reminded you earlier that day?"

Harry blinked. Huh? "A coat?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Yes, boy, a coat, which one normally wears when it's snowing, or do you enjoy playing Russian roulette with hypothermia?"

"Russian roulette?" Harry repeated. Why was Snape so hung up on whether or not he had a coat? Did he remind Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle to put a coat on when they went outside?

"Never mind," Severus shook his head. Clearly Potter had never watched James Bond. He had figured he would start his interrogation with something easy and work his way up to the big question gradually. "You have developed hypothermia and frostbite because you failed to put on a coat and boots. It boggles my mind why you would forget such a necessary item." Snape said in Parseltongue.

Harry was startled that Snape was using the snake language and answered in turn, "Because I don't have a coat here at school." That was not what he was intending to say, but Parseltongue wouldn't permit him to say he forgot his coat.

"You mean to tell me that you forgot your coat at home and didn't bother to owl your aunt and uncle to send you it?" Snape asked, still in the same tongue.

"Err . . . my uncle hates getting owl post. He's afraid someone will notice." Harry answered. That was most definitely true. Anytime Harry mentioned school or magic, Vernon nearly had apoplexy. "But I was going to write them a normal letter and have Hermione post it for me when she went home for the holiday." He said quickly in normal speech. Actually, he hadn't even given it a thought, knowing full well how much the Dursleys cared about him having a coat and boots. He had figured he would make do, like always. Hermione had told him there was a Warming Charm he could learn, then he wouldn't need to worry about a coat. But so far he hadn't had time to study it.

"Potter, in case you haven't noticed, there is the small matter of a blizzard raging right now." Snape said sternly. He reached in his pocket and came up with a quill and a sheet of parchment, which was something he normally always had on him. "Here, write a letter to your aunt right now and I shall post it as soon as we are out of here. That way they should be able to send you the items by Muggle or owl post and they should arrive here before Christmas. It's the nineteenth of December, I believe."

Harry hesitated, wondering if he ought to tell Snape the truth, that the Dursleys wouldn't even bother to respond to his letter, would probably chuck it in the nearest trash bin as soon as it arrived. But then he shrugged and began to write, the quill appeared to be magicked to remain ever full of ink. Snape would never believe the truth, he thought Harry was a spoiled brat and full of himself.

Severus watched Harry write the letter. It took him a few minutes, then he handed the letter to Snape. "How do you know about Muggle post, sir?"

"Not everyone in the wizarding world is as self-absorbed or clueless as Lockhart. I know more than most, however because I'm a half-blood and grew up Muggle."

"Really? Like Seamus Finnegan." Harry exclaimed.

Severus nodded.

"Which one of your parents had magic?"

"My mother. My father was a Muggle." Snape replied shortly, wondering why he had even bothered to mention that. "I lived on the same street as your mother."

Harry's eyes went wide. "Did you . . .know her then? And Aunt Petunia?"

"Yes. I was the one who introduced her to the magical world. We . . . played together as children." Severus said slowly.

"Did Aunt Petunia know you also?"

"She did, but I didn't care for her. She always looked down upon me and Lily for having magic. I believe she resented her younger sister for having an ability she never could."

"Oh. Yeah, she's well . . . like that. Funny, she never mentioned that she knew anyone from the wizarding world." Harry mused.

"Maybe that's because she preferred to forget anyone like me ever existed." Severus surmised. "How often did she tell you about your mother?"

Harry looked him square in the eye. "She never talked about her. Except once or twice. I used to think it made her sad, but maybe it was because it was like you said, she wanted to forget about wizards and witches and magic. My Uncle Vernon refused to even let the word magic be mentioned in his presence."

"Your aunt never showed you pictures of your mother, or your father, or you as a baby?" Severus probed.

Harry shook his head. "No, sir. I asked once, when I was five, and she said she didn't want any reminders of her sister or her family, that I was enough of one." Harry deliberately didn't mention what happened after that, which was getting thrown in his cupboard without supper for a day and a night, for bringing up unmentionable subjects. "Sir, can I ask you a question?"

"Yes, you may," Snape corrected.

"Why are you asking me about my family?"

"That is a difficult question to answer. However, I shall endeavor to do so. But first, let me explain something. Last night, when I brought you here, you were quite close to death. Your body temperature was close to a corpse and your hands and feet were like blocks of ice. You were extremely lucky that my spells restored circulation to your fingers and toes, or else you might have had to get a foot or hand amputated."

Harry stared at him, horror racing through him. The mere thought of losing a body part like that made him queasy. "Oh. I . . . didn't realize it was that bad. Thanks for saving me."

"I know. I'm not telling you this to be cruel, but to make certain you understand how serious your condition was and still is. You're still suffering the effects of hypothermia, despite our host's dry cave, you really need to be inside the castle. However, temporarily we are stuck here, and so must make the best of it. In any case, most people in your condition would call out for their family for comfort. You did not. I find that odd, considering that Headmaster Dumbledore assured me that you were well provided for and came from a well-to-do Muggle household."

Harry shrugged. "I'm used to looking after myself." He was tempted, oh, he was so tempted, to tell Snape about his real life at the Dursleys. But he couldn't. He had been conditioned not to speak about it, and he feared Snape would not believe him anyway.

Severus frowned. "Your relatives expect much of a twelve-year-old boy."

"Oh no, sir. They don't expect much of anything from me," Harry disagreed.

"And why is that, do you think?" Snape hissed. "Is it because of your attitude, or perhaps because they . . . simply don't care?"

Harry knew which choice was the right one. But he couldn't say so. Instead he tried to act like he was dumb. "I don't understand, sir."

Severus' keen gaze narrowed. "Don't you? You talk in your sleep, Potter. Do you know that?"

"No." Harry felt a sudden chill race down his backbone.

"In your sleep you revealed to me several things about your relatives . . . hideous things that led me to believe that you are being subjected to abuse. I want you to answer me truthfully, Potter, and tell me no lies. Are your relatives abusive?"

It was a simple question, one that could be answered yes or no. But for Harry, it was also fraught with peril. He felt ashamed admitting his weakness to this man. True, Snape had saved him, but he still felt the other wizard was judging him. He did not want to face the other's censure, see that smirk cross his lips, because despite the other's animosity towards him, Harry wanted Snape to like him, or if not like, than at least respect. And telling Snape the truth would be the quickest way to make Snape think he was a gutless coward. So his only recourse was to lie. That decision made him very uncomfortable, but he had no other choice.

He gathered up all of his courage and put on his "witless Gryffindor" face. "Sir? I don't know what you're talking about."

Snape ground his teeth together. He should have expected no less. "Let me spell it out for you then. Do your relatives beat you? Starve you? Lock you up for days without food or water? Do they make sure you have good clothing, take you to the doctor or dentist? Do you get regular eye exams?"

"My relatives don't beat me," Harry replied truthfully. "My uncle whacked me on the bum once for being cheeky but that's all." Though Harry was certain that if Vernon had been able to catch him, he would have done far worse than that. "And I eat the same food they eat and wear the same clothes." Also true. He did eat the same food, though it was scraps, and wore Dudley's hand-me-downs. "And I go to the doctors with Dudley." But unlike Dudley, he remained in the car until the examinations were over.

Severus eyed the boy sharply. His words rang true, but Severus knew he was skirting the issue. From what he had heard Harry speak of in his sleep, he knew that things at Privet Drive were anything but normal. "I see. Do you get along with your cousin then?"

"I guess so," Harry said. He thought of how Dudley used to pound on him and how he never got in trouble for acting like a brat and how Petunia fawned over him. Though last summer, Dudley had pretty much avoided him, since getting the pig's tail surgically removed. Which suited Harry just fine.

"Potter, I want you to tell me the truth," Severus said quietly. "I know it's difficult, but lies will only harm you in the end."

"I'm not lying, sir!" Harry protested. What had Snape overheard? What did he know?

Severus tried again. "I know you have little reason to trust me. But know this, I have never willingly allowed harm to come to my students, and I believe I have misjudged you. I saw only a spoiled bully, which was what your father was to me at school, and assumed that like him you were given everything you ever wanted. I was wrong. I apologize for my mistaken assumption. You are more like Lily than you know."

"I am?" Harry's eyes lit in pleasure and he felt his heart soar.

"Yes. Your mother was the kindest and bravest person I ever knew. She was a powerful witch, an expert in Charms and potions, and I was privileged to be her friend." Severus said sincerely. "The world will never see her like again."

The joy he had felt was suddenly eclipsed by sorrow. "I wish I could remember her, even a little."

"Yes, well, just know that your aunt is nothing like her. In any way."

Harry didn't know what to say. Snape had just apologized to him. He thought he might even be dreaming. Since when did Snape ever admit he was wrong, especially about Harry Potter? Maybe I hit my head really hard and am hallucinating about this. That has to be it. Because the real Snape would never behave this way. Wake up, Harry!

Snape's eyes were on him again, and he squirmed uneasily. He wondered if it were true, that Snape really could read your mind? If so, Harry knew he was dead. He had just lied to the man's face. Sort of.

"Potter, if you don't admit there's a problem, no one can help you—" he began.

Harry grew agitated. Why couldn't Snape just leave it alone? Why was he pressing so hard? It wasn't as if he could do anything about it. Dumbledore had told him that he had to go back to the Dursleys, so there was no point in revealing anything else about his life at Privet Drive. "I'm fine!" he snapped in his most cheeky tone, knowing full well it would make Snape angry. Maybe he did have a death wish after all. "There's nothing wrong with me. I was dreaming, okay? That's all."

The familiar scowl he knew so well came over Snape's face. "Potter, mind your tone when you speak to me! You forget whom you're speaking to."

"I could never do that . . . sir."

Severus glared at him. "Potter, you're just asking for detention, do you know that?"

"You're going to give me detention for having dreams while I'm sick?" he repeated, still with that aggravating tone in his voice.

"Quit lying to me, boy!" Snape growled. "We both know they weren't dreams, but memories. Memories of being tossed outside in a shed, left to freeze in the cold. Memories where your aunt called you freak and said it was your fault your mother died. Remember them now?"

"Ummm . . . not really. Am I supposed to?"

Severus wanted to strangle the obstinate little brat. He couldn't believe Potter was doing this to him. Calm down. Don't lose your composure. You know the truth. And so does he. But he's trying to hide from it. He's frightened, Snape. "You and I both know what's true and what's not. I despise people like your aunt and uncle. Weak, selfish, wicked people who think it acceptable to hurt a child under their care. No one deserves that."

"You're wrong," Harry managed, feeling tears sting his eyes. Abruptly he rose and headed towards the back of the cave. He couldn't take any more of this conversation. It was tearing him apart inside. He wished he were anywhere but here. Snape would never understand. Nobody else ever had. Last time he had revealed what went on at home to a teacher, he had been made to regret it for weeks. He could not go through that again. Hus summer had been hell as it was.

He sat down with his back against the wall, his head in his hands. His head was now throbbing and he felt hot and cold at the same time. He stared at his hands, which looked perfectly normal now. Mum, I wish you were here. I really need you. He says he was your friend. Don't know why he would lie about that. Can I trust him? Should I? I want to, but . . .I can't. Some Gryffindor I am! I'm nothing but a bloody coward! He swiped angrily at his eyes. He shouldn't be crying. Nothing was wrong. Except that he was trapped here with Snape. He had lived eleven years with the Dursleys and he was still alive. He could endure. He had to.

Severus swore as he looked after the fleeing boy. "Well, that went so well," he sneered to himself. "You have a brilliant future as a child psychologist, don't you, Severus?"

**I take it your conversation did not go well?** The Wise One queried.

"He refuses to admit the truth. He was insolent and disrespectful."

**He is frightened and seeks to drive your attention away from him. Give him time, Severus. He's a bright boy. He'll come round eventually.**

Severus was skeptical. "I don't think he will."

**Be patient, Severus. Admitting fear and weakness to someone you admire is always difficult.**

Severus snorted. "Potter? Admire me? That's ridiculous!"

The Wise One smirked. **Yet it is true. I can feel it within me. Poor lost boy. Afraid of being alone and yet afraid to reach out for help.**

Like another boy I once knew, Severus thought. Who had no one to help him except a little red-headed witch. "Perhaps if you spoke to him . . . he might feel more willing to admit that he needs help?"

The Wise One nodded slowly. **Yess. I might jus-s-st do that. I have always been a good listener.**

The great snake glided towards Harry, her scales making a soft shushing sound against the rock. The boy looked up to see the ruffed serpent circling about in front of him, gazing at him curiously. "Hi," he said softly in Parseltongue. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

The Wise One shook her head gently. **No. I am a light sleeper. You seem troubled, littling. Perhaps I may help?**

Harry sighed. "I wish. But . . . there's nothing you can do. Not unless you can turn back time and stop me from running out of the castle in the middle of a blizzard?"

**Alass, that is not within my power. But perhaps you might tell me why you ran from your home?**

"Promise you won't laugh? Or think I'm crazy?"

**I would never believe you are insane, Harry. What happened? Did you perhaps quarrel with your teacher?**

"No. He had nothing to do with this. I . . . heard a voice. A very creepy and scary voice. And the only one who could hear it was me." Harry began. Then he halted. "Wait! I . . . I think . . . it sounded like . . . you. Well, not exactly, your voice sounds softer, more reasonable . . .this one just sounded angry and . . . very hungry . . .It kept talking about eating people's livers and stuff . . .Gross, really."

**Harry, when you say the voice sounded like me . . .did you mean because it was speaking in Parseltongue?**

Harry thought about it, recalling the sudden raspy tone and the way the voice had hissedon the sibilants. "Yes! That must be it! But why would I be hearing a snake inside Hogwarts? I don't think anybody has a snake for a familiar, much less an invisible one."

**Invisible? What do you mean?**

"Well, I've never seen it anywhere. Just heard it. Mostly when I'm alone, walking through the corridors. Last night . . . I heard it in the middle of the night while I was using the bathroom . . . It really freaked me out. So I ran."

The Wise One looked thoughtful. **I have been here a long time, young one. But one thing I do recall from when I first arrived here was that one of my cousins, a black and green basilisk, lived in the castle with his master, Salazar Slytherin. **

"Could this be the same one?"

**It very well could be. Basilisks can live for many centuries if they hibernate. Like most reptiles, they are long lived. And regrettably, they do enjoy the taste of human flesh. They can be quite territorial as well.**

"Have you ever met him?"

**No, for he never comes out of the castle and I have never ventured inside.**

"But Salazar Slytherin has been dead for so long . . .how come his familiar is still around?"

**It was not yet his time. A basilisk is very loyal. If he found another Parselmouth . . . he might have been persuaded to stay . . .**

"That is exactly what happened," Severus interjected.

"You were eavesdropping?" scowled Harry.

"I could hardly help overhearing your conversation. The acoustics in this cave are very good," Severus said, somewhat defensively. "You are the only one who has actually heard the basilisk in years. It slept while I was a student at school . . . until now."

Harry stared up at him. "You know about the basilisk?"

"I am a Hogwarts professor. I know most of what goes on in the castle, Potter."

The Wise One inclined her head. **S-S-Severus-s, will you tell uss more about the basilisk? Its behavior seems . . . erratic and . . . odd. Basilisks . . . are not hunterss, like some s-s-snakes. They prefer to ambush their prey and freeze them with their gaze, then kill them with their venom. Much easier that way. Although . . . I prefer to hunt . . . I enjoy the taste of deer and elk . . . very tender. . .I disgres-s-s . . .Go on, S-S-Severus, explain why the basilisk still remains in the castle . . ."