The quiet of the Infirmary was broken rather abruptly by the sound of someone moaning. Harry pulled his attention from the contemplation of the Braille book in front of him and turned his head in the direction the sounds were coming from. The shadow in his head that belonged to Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office and walked briskly across the room.

"Put him over there and tell me what happened," Madam Pomfrey said and the sound of scuffling and more moaning drifted Harry's way.

Harry got out of his seat and wandered slowly over towards the sounds.

"He hit the side of the castle and fell off his broom. He was about ten feet in the air." It was a woman's voice, gruff and a bit abrupt. "I think it's just his wrist."

Harry heard Madam Pomfrey cast one of the diagnostic spells she had used on him several times in the last two weeks.

"His wrist is definitely broken and he's sporting quite a few bruises."

Madam Pomfrey left the side of the bed to open and search in what Harry knew was the potions cabinet. She returned a few minutes later.

"You'll be fine, Mr. Longbottom, just take these two potions and your wrist will heal in no time at all."

Harry stopped a few beds away, listening to the conversation.

"He's lucky the only thing broken is his wrist," Madam Pomfrey said. "I'll keep him overnight, but I'm sure that he'll be fine in the morning."

"I'll check in later," the other woman was saying. "I must get back to the rest of the students."

"Fine, Rolanda," Madam Pomfrey replied. "I'll let Minerva know he's here. Mr. Longbottom, change into these pyjamas and get into bed."

There was more shuffling about and then the other woman must have left, because Madam Pomfrey went back into her office. Once her door was closed, Harry's sense of her was gone.

Slowly he moved toward the bed that he was sure the boy was lying in.

"Hello," Harry whispered when he thought he was close enough to the other boy.

He was answered by a soft groan coming from the vicinity of the bed. Encouraged, he made his way to the bed adjacent and perched on the edge. "I'm Evan," Harry said softly. "Neville," the boy said, his voice cracking. The bed Neville was lying on creaked. "Are you okay?" Harry asked. He rubbed his fingers over the blanket on the bed, trying to calm his sudden nerves. He was talking to a strange boy, all on his own. His own courage made him feel giddy and afraid all at the same time.

"I broke my wrist when I fell off my broom," Neville said.

"Did it hurt?"

"Yeah, it was pretty bad." Harry heard Neville shift again.

"I remember you from the train," Neville said. "Is it true that you can't see?"

Harry felt a blush creep up his face. "Yes," he said. "I was in an accident when I was eight."

"Oh," Neville said. "I have accidents all the time. I'm really clumsy."

"Is that why you fell off the broom?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yeah, we were learning how to fly and I couldn't control it like Madam Hooch said to."

"Were you…afraid?" Harry whispered.

"Terrified," Neville laughed weakly. "But that's nothing new. I'm afraid all the time. I still can't figure out why the Sorting Hat thought I'd fit into Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor is the same house that Lizzy is in," Harry said, tilting his head in thought. "She's helping me learn to read." He paused for a moment. "Aren't Gryffindors supposed to be really brave?"

"Yeah," Neville's voice sounded suddenly soft and tired. "Wish I was." There was a deep sigh, like what Draco did when he fell asleep. Harry sat for another minute, but Neville didn't say anything else.

"Evan," Harry jerked at the sound of Madam Pomfrey's voice. "What are you doing?"

"Um…" Harry hesitated. "Talking to Neville," he admitted, hanging his head. "Sorry."

Madam Pomfrey took his hand and pulled him gently from the bed. "It's fine, Evan," she said. "You can talk to him in a little while, right now he needs his sleep."

"Is his wrist really going to be all better by morning?" Harry asked as he sat back down in his chair.

"Yes, he'll be fine," Madam Pomfrey said. "Why do you ask?"

Harry clenched his fists at the first stirrings of anger. "How come you can't make me better as fast," he asked, then ducked his head as if waiting for a blow.

"Evan," she said softly, and he felt her hand on his hair, stroking gently. "It's not as easy with you. Mr. Longbottom is healthy, the injury is new and he can handle the healing potions. We weren't as lucky with you."

"Because it all happened so long ago," Harry said bitterly. "And no one came to check on me."

"Yes," she said with regret in her voice. "I'm sorry, I wish that we had known sooner."

Harry shrugged, pushing the anger away. "Me too."

~HPSSHPSS~

Draco knew he was in trouble. He knew it from the moment he'd picked up Longbottom's Remembrall and taunted Ron Weasley with it. There was a voice in the back of his head sounding just like Uncle Sev, telling him not to do it, that he would regret it, but the anger at the way Ron had rejected Harry was overpowering and he wanted, needed to strike out.

Draco laughed cruelly at the silly know-it-all, Hermione Granger, as she tried to stop Weasley from attacking Draco, but the amusement melted into even more rage when Weasley shoved the girl away, knocking her to the ground.

"You don't shove girls, you idiot!" Draco shouted at Weasley, ignoring Pansy's outraged look and the voice in his head calling him a hypocrite.

Pansy didn't count, Draco tried to convince himself as he sat easily on the school broom, hovering a few feet off the ground. His brain seemed disconnected from his actions as he tossed the Remembrall from hand to hand, daring Weasley to come after him. Pansy wasn't really a girl, he thought, she was a bully and a snob and had tormented Draco since they were four years old. Even know-it-all Mud–Muggleborns deserved better treatment than Pansy.

When Weasley grabbed his broom and mounted it, Draco threw the Remembrall with all his might at the castle wall. Weasley wasn't even off the ground before the ball smashed against the side of the tower. As Draco watched the ball shatter and fall into the grass, he knew that Uncle Sev was going to be furious. With a sigh, he saw Professor McGonagall rush outside, yelling at him to get off the broom.

Draco lowered his broom to the ground, then threw it to the side. He stood with his arms crossed defiantly and looked at the ground while she berated him.

"Mr. Malfoy, you should be ashamed of yourself," she said harshly. "That was irresponsible and childish."

Everyone stood around Draco, abandoned brooms scattered over the area. "Professor…" Daphne began.

"Be quiet, Ms. Greengrass."

"But Weasley…"

"That's enough," Professor McGonagall said. "Mr. Malfoy, follow me."

Weasley was smirking at Draco.

Professor McGonagall turned to Weasley. "You will have a week's detention, Mr. Weasley, for assaulting Miss Granger."

Weasley's face dropped. "But…"

"No buts Mr. Weasley, the detentions will be added to end of the one's you're serving now." Professor McGonagall swept back up toward the castle, Draco following silently behind. They passed Madam Hooch at the main door as she was returning to her class. Professor McGonagall nodded to her. "Rolanda, please come see me this evening," she said without breaking her stride. Her voice was stiff and controlled and Draco wondered if Professor McGonagall was angry with Madam Hooch.

Draco was desperate to keep the unemotional Malfoy mask on his face as he hurried after Professor McGonagall. He tried not to shake, gripping his hands together in the small of his back as he walked behind her forbidding figure down to the dungeons. When they reached the door to Uncle Sev's office, Draco stood next to Professor McGonagall, locking his knees so that he wouldn't shift from foot to foot as she knocked.

"Enter." The voice from the other side of the door was callous with impatience. The sound of Uncle Sev's voice was almost enough to send Draco running.

Professor McGonagall pushed the door open and with a hand firmly on Draco's back, led him into the office. "Professor Snape," she said and Uncle Sev's eyes snapped to her's and then over to Draco. He carefully set his quill onto his desk and leaned back in his chair.

"What has he done, Minerva?" he asked.

Draco flushed with shame. Harry was going to be so disappointed.

~HPSSHPSS~

"Draco," Harry said. "Why would you do that?"

Severus sat in his chair and watched the two boys sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace. Harry had his hand on Draco's arm and Draco had his arms wrapped around his own waist as if trying to hold himself together.

"I was angry," Draco said, his voice low and rough. "I wanted to hurt Weasley for hurting you."

"But Draco, you're the one who got in trouble," Harry said quietly. "What if…" Harry's face turned towards Severus for a moment, then back to Draco. "What if Uncle Sev got really angry and…" Harry voice was so low that he was nearly inaudible. Severus knew that Harry was trying to articulate the thing that he feared most.

"He wouldn't," Draco said, realising what Harry had not said, his eyes cutting to Severus. "He would never hit us."

"But how do you know?" Harry whispered urgently. "He's told me he won't, but…but how can I be sure?"

"You just have to trust him, Harry," Draco replied, his eyes still on Severus. "I've known him my whole life and he's never once touched me like that. I trust him." He looked back at Harry, whose face was filled with confusion. "Did he tell you how he would punish you if you did something wrong?"

Harry nodded. "He said I would lose privileges, go to bed early and not get to read with you."

"Well, that's what happened to me, I just got a few detentions on top of it."

"What will you do in detentions?" Harry asked apprehensively and Draco looked away.

"Draco will scrub cauldrons," Severus said, breaking into the conversation for the first time. "And clean desks. It will be good for him to do some manual labor as well as give him time to think about what he's done."

Harry's fingers tightened on Draco's arm and Draco winced. Immediately Harry dropped his hand. "Sorry, sorry," he said.

"Stop apologizing, Harry," Draco murmured. "It's fine."

"But I hurt you."

"Yes, a little, but you didn't do it on purpose." Draco took hold of Harry's fingers. "Uncle Sev would never hurt us on purpose either."

Harry shook his head. "I believe you, but…"

"I know," Draco said. "It's hard."

Harry nodded. "Sometimes, I think it's impossible. Sometimes, I think that I can't possibly be happy, that I'll wake up and you and Uncle Sev will be gone, or will hate me, or…I'll be back at the Dursleys'."

"That won't happen, Harry," Draco said calmly, stroking Harry's fingers.

"I don't think I could stand it if it did," Harry replied, closing his hand around Draco's.

Severus watched the boys sit in silence for a few moments, then Harry moved, pulling his hand away from Draco. "Do you think we could go see Neville?" Harry asked, turning towards Severus.

"I don't see why not," Severus replied. "We'll go after dinner."

Harry smiled. "That's good," he said. "I want to see if he'll come visit us some time."

Draco laughed lightly. "Maybe we could help him figure out why he's in Gryffindor," he said. "He's got to have some courage hidden in him somewhere."

Harry tilted his head. "I don't understand," he said.

Draco smirked at Severus. "Neville is terrified of Uncle Sev. It would be very brave of him to come down here."

"Why is he afraid of Uncle Sev?" Harry asked.

"Because," Severus said calmly, "he is a dunderhead in the class. That boy has no talent for potions and constantly blows things up."

"So you are mean to him?" Harry asked, his voice level, but his hands twisted in his lap.

"Yes, I am sometimes," Severus replied carefully. "I am harsh with anyone who cannot take the time to read the instructions or do the homework."

"Why?" Harry's face was tense. "Why would you be mean to someone who's already afraid?"

"I don't want him to die," Severus said, not wanting to admit that he had a problem with Gryffindors in general. Thankfully, Draco said nothing, although the look on his face told Severus that Draco knew the truth. "Potions can be very dangerous."

"But, if he's already nervous," Harry said. "Wouldn't that just make it worse?"

"Enough, Harry," Severus said gratingly, then instantly regretted the insensitive tone of voice as Harry's face fell. "Harry," he said more gently. "Mr. Longbottom is not you. I am not going to be angry with you."

Harry nodded his head, but his eyes were tightly shut. "I know, sir," he said and Severus sighed, laying his head against the back of the chair. Two steps forward, one back.

~HPSSHPSS~

Bedtime had become Harry's favorite time of day. It had started a few days ago when Uncle Sev would rub the salve into Harry's scars and tell him of his mum. The stories so far were all about when Uncle Sev had met Mum at the swings when they were little. How she had done magic by flying off the swing, not knowing what it was, and how Uncle Sev had explained to her about the magical world.

After Uncle Sev finished with the salve and the story, Harry would dress in his pyjamas, slide under the covers and let his imagination drift. He would remember the sound of Uncle Sev's voice, the normally rough, low bass voice smoothed out with fond remembrance, as he would recount some idle moment with Mum. In his mind, Harry was in the park with his mum, lying on the grass, talking about magic and school and all the things he had never heard about until a few weeks ago. Since Harry had no idea what his mother actually looked like, his mind would never give her a human form; it was always just an impression of someone near, of long hair, soft skin and kind words.

In his imagination, Harry would hold her hand and stroke his fingers over hers while listening to her talk. To his mind, she sounded like the Primary School teacher he'd had when he was seven, the last year he'd gone to school. Her voice was soft and soothing, calming his fears and assuring him that everything was fine, that Uncle Sev would take care of him, that Harry could trust him. He wanted to believe her and at night, as he was on the verge of sleep, it almost seemed possible. If he stretched out his hand, he could grasp trust and safety, hold it tightly, and believe.

Today, though, today had set back his journey. His quest for that sense of safety and trust was seemingly shattered. Now instead of his mum, he heard Draco saying that Neville was terrified of Uncle Sev. He heard the fear in Neville's voice when they went to the Infirmary after dinner to talk to him, heard Neville gulping and stuttering and the bed creak with his shaking.

"Draco," Harry whispered, hoping that he was still awake.

"Yeah," Draco said back.

"Do you think Neville will come see us?" Harry didn't know how to articulate the sheer hunger he felt. He needed to believe, however irrationally, that if Neville could overcome his fear and come down to visit them, then Harry could start to trust Uncle Sev. That the safety he needed so much would be within reach once again.

"I don't know, Harry," Draco replied softly. "I hope so."

~HPSSHPSS~

Harry's nightmares and the magical storm returned that night with a vengeance. Severus sighed with resignation as he stood in the doorway to the boy's room, watching Harry toss and turn, screaming as the magical wind tore through the room. Draco slept on, unknowing behind the wards around his bed that activated the moment he fell asleep.

Severus sat on the edge of the bed and called to Harry, placing his hand on Harry's arm.

"No! No!" Harry shrieked as he launched himself out of the bed, crawling up into Severus's lap. "I'll be good, don't be angry, I'll be good." The tears ran down Harry's face as he buried his face in Severus's chest.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Severus murmured, gently rocking the distraught boy, and wondering what he could do to fix this. "I'm so sorry."