"Well so much for him getting nicer." Harry whispered to Ron, looking at his potions essay in dismay. A large P stared back at him; at least it was better than the D Harry had so spectacularly gotten last time. Harry sighed and shoved his parchment in his bag before Hermione got any ideas about sharing grades.

"Greast Git." Ron responded savagely. They both had worked sort-of-almost-hard on that essay.

"Well at least Harry isn't getting his hand cut open anymore." Hermione whispered.

"You're just happy you got an O." Ron muttered in response sneaking a glance at Hermione's paper. Hermione made an indignant sort of sound and moved to hide her paper but flushed pink all the same.

"I just mean that Professor Snape is an Order member, and he's been helping Harry and now he's stopped Umbridge. The least we can do is refrain from commenting on his hygiene." Hermione replied tartly under her breath. Ron, who had initially been so impressed with Snape tearing Umbridge a new one that he declared Snape "not all bad", was now reduced to giving an angry shrug of agreement.

The prickle of pain that had been irritating Harry's scar all morning returned and Harry moved to subtly rub at it. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Hermione and Ron exchange nervous looks with one another.

"I'm really fine" Harry muttered, unable to prevent another wince of as the pain in his scar flared once again.

"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing mate." Ron whispered. Harry noted he seemed to be picking up on Hermione's propensity to mother hen.

"And say what exactly? The mental connection between Voldemort and I is a little painful. Do you have a potion for that?" Harry snapped in response. Ron looked a little strung and went bad to his cauldron.

"He's just trying to help Harry. We both are." Hermione said, somehow managing to sound both apologetic and reproachful at the same time. Harry immediately felt a rush of shame and moved to apologize.

"Professor Snape? I trust you got my note about the date and time of your review" Umbridge asked, her voice causing the whole class to whip around and look at her. The sea of heads turned back to watch Snape for his reaction. He did not give one. Just slightly tilted his head in acknowledgement of Umbridge's comment before turning back to handing out the essays.

"Invigoration Draught, instructions on page three hundred and ninety four." Snape said, brandishing his wand forcefully towards the student store cupboard, causing it to spring open with a crash.

"Umbridge is reviewing him again?" Harry whispered to Hermione as they qued up to get ingredients. "You don't think she could real fire him do you?"

"Who cares." Ron grumbled, clearly still stinging from his poor grade. Hermione observed Umbridge questioning Crabbe and Goyle for a moment then turned back to Harry and Ron.

"With Dumbledore gone…" Hermione trailed off with a little shrug before grabbing her ingredients. Harry grabbed his handful of lacewing flies and dandelion roots, not taking his eyes off of Snape who was circling the class, more bat-like than ever. When Umbridge had first inspected Snape, Harry had been torn between wanting to see Umbridge torn apart by Snape and wanting to see Snape fired as publically as Trelawney had been. Now though, Harry found it harder to root against Snape. He had, after all, continued to help Harry even after Harry had looked into the pensieve. He had threatened Umbridge in order to prevent her from going after the students, including Harry. He fixed Harry's hand without a snarky comment.

Harry crushed the dandelion root, finding himself relaxing slightly as Malfoy sung Snape's praises. It wasn't that Harry liked Snape, he just didn't want to see him fired because of something he saw in Harry's head. He had already gotten Dumbledore fired. Beads of sweat started to form on Harry's forehead as he carefully measured out armadillo bile over the hot cauldron. The pain in his head made it hard to read the numbers on the side of the measuring cup. He could see Hermione peering over at him in concern. He gave up, pouring however much bile he had measured out into the cauldron.

Heels clicked sharply as Umbridge walked over to the Gryffindor side of the classroom. Evidently, the Slytherins hadn't been as cooperative about bashing their Head of House as they had been with other teachers.

"Mr. Weasley, do you find Severus Snape a good teacher?" Umbridge asked, looking at Ron's cauldron, in which a chunky sort of grey mixture was giving off a strong smell of sewage. Ron gaped for a moment, not knowing how to respond. He looked over to the Slytherin side of the classroom where Snape was examining potions mixtures with a scowl, clearly within earshot.

"Yes. Yes, I have really learned a lot from this class." Ron answered, not to convincingly. "He's very patient." Ron continued. This clearly pushed the bounds of believability for Umbridge, who gave Ron a wide, sharp-toothed smile that looked slightly aggressive. She turned sharply to Hermione and asked the same question.

"Yes, he is quite wonderful. We have already covered all of the potions that might come up on our OWL." Hermione said with a touch more sincerity. Umbridge's eyes were beginning to get the wide, crazed look she got when she sensed mutiny.

"You Longbottom? I hear Snape is quite hard on you." Umbridge said advancing on the boy with a predatory glare. Neville, sweating and wide-eyed, looked quickly at Snape, who was now watching the proceedings with a touch of amusement on his face.

"N-no m'am. I'm just no good at potions. Snape is a good teacher." Neville answered clearly hoping to help Hermione and Ron with whatever they were getting at. Harry could hardly suppress a smile.

"You sure he never goes just a little too far?" Umbridge asked. Harry assumed she meant her voice to sound maternal but it was fake and brittle. Harry felt his heart beat painfully in his head.

"He's never made us bleed if that's what you're getting at." Harry snapped angrily. The whole class turned to look at him, aghast. Where was that anger coming from? Harry could feel his heart beat frantically. Only moments ago he had felt amused at Neville. The anger wasn't his. Umbridge advanced on Harry and wagged a fat finger in front of his nose.

"Young man –" But Harry didn't hear the rest of her lecture. A burning pain shot into his head causing him to grab his scar with a scream. His knees buckled. Someone, Ron, was at his side holding him up. Harry felt fear, pain and a disconnected detachment as Aunt Petunia brought a frying pan down, hard on his head. Harry tried to think of the Gryffindor common room and pull the image away. Everything burned. He realized at some point Ron had sat him in a chair. Hermione's concerned face swam in front of his eyes and he could feel her hands on his shoulder, keeping him steady. Then, just as he thought it was over, a surge of pain, unlike anything Harry had ever felt exploded from deep inside his brain. He heard himself scream. Memories he didn't even remember having exploded into his conscious, all at the same time. The dim light of the dungeon seemed unbearable. He knew he was still screaming. Aside from the pain he felt cold and shaky, as though all of the blood was leaving his body. Harry squeezed his eyes, shut, gnashed his teeth together and tried to force the image of the Gryffindor common room into his mind. He couldn't. The pain flared again. All went black.

Before Harry opened his eyes he knew something was off. The smell and sound of the room he was in was unfamiliar. His splitting head brought the hysteria of the last few moments back. His throat was raw. He wondered how long he screamed for. Harry opened his eyes then gasped in pain at the brightness assaulted him, making his stomach swirl.

"Harry?" Snape's voice. Harry's eyes opened involuntarily in surprise to confirm that his mind hadn't completely turned. Big mistake. An unstoppable roll of nausea came up through his stomach and he just managed to roll over so it ended up on a worn, grey carpet and green couch as opposed to back down his throat. Where was he? His head hurt too much to really care. He squeezed his eyes tighter.

"Scourgify." Snape whispered, sounding closer this time. Something Harry assumed to be a wet washcloth was placed over his aching eyes. The cold and dark felt good.

"Drink this Potter." Snape's voice came again. Why was he with Snape? Where were Ron and Hermione? Where was he? A vial was raised to his lips and he opened his mouth to receive it automatically. It tasted bitter and he tried not to wince as he drank. As soon as he swallowed, the deep, throbbing pain seemed to disappear, leaving only a shaky, sick feeling in its place.

"Thanks." Harry murmured. Now that the pain was subsiding, embarrassment, fear and confusion were beginning to curse through Harry's system. He reached a hand up, reluctantly pulled the cloth from his face and opened his eyes. He was lying on a green couch in a cool, comfortable, if slightly cramped living room. All of the lights were out, save for a softly crackling fire. Harry figured that was probably for his benefit. Most alarming, Snape was sitting on a chair by his head. His pale, impassive face looked even more severe back-lit by the fire. Harry instinctively tried to sit up but Severus reached out one long hand across Harry's chest and forced him back down.

"Lie down." Harry's one attempt to sit partially upright left him feeling shaking and naseous again and he had no choice but to sink back in to the pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, shaky breath, willing his stomach to calm down. When he opened his eyes again Snape was still watching him. It might have been Harry's imagination but, when he first opened his eyes he thought there was something like concern in Snape's expression. It was gone, if it had ever been there, when Harry blinked.

"How do you feel?" Snape asked. His tone was not kind but it was devoid of its usual harsh affect.

"Ok." Harry lied, shuffling to sit up a little more. He felt embarrassed to be lying down like an invalid in front of Snape. Looking away from Snape's penetrating glance, he tied to assess his body. His head was throbbing dully, his wrist kept giving off sharp pains and his stomach was still swirling unpleasantly. He blinked and took in his domestic surroundings again. "Where am I?"

"My quarters." Snape said after a moment of hesitation. Harry felt his heart speed up and his cheeks go red. He was in Snape's house?

"I'm sorry about the carpet." Harry mumbled, remembering the truly embarrassing moment when he wrenched all over Snape's living room.

"You were ill." Snape said dismissively. Harry was determinedly avoiding Snape's gaze by staring at his watch. It took a moment for the numbers to sink in. Harry gasped.

"It's 1am." Harry said looking up to Snape in surprise. He had been out since 10 am. The fear he seemed to constantly have to push away these days started to curse through him.

"Yes." Snape answered, pouring a glass of water from a pitcher on the coffee table. Harry noticed that the coffee table was cluttered with potions, washcloths, empty plates and glasses. He could tell by the indents in the carpet that the coffee table had been pulled over to make room for the chair Snape was now sitting on. It painted a picture of some sort of vigil. Had Snape been sitting up all night with him? There did not seem to be another conclusion. Harry felt his face flush again.

"I'm sorry Professor – about all of this – I'll uhm – I'll go up to Gryffindor tower." Harry said kicking of the blanket that someone – Snape – had laid over him and throwing his legs over the couch to sit up. The quick movement was not a good call. He could feel his stomach roll and the world sway again. Snape had a forceful hand on his shoulder before he could move to stand up.

"Sit down Potter." Snape said harshly. With a wave of horror, Harry realized that he was going to be sick again.

"I'm – " He tried to say by means of warning. Snape was already ahead of him, swiftly placing a large bowl under his mouth. For the second time in 15 minutes, Harry vomited in Snape's living room. The moment he finished there was a heavy silence. Snape placed the bowl on the coffee table and wordlessly vanished the vomit before gently pushing Harry backwards towards the corner of the couch. Harry reluctantly settled back against the pillow on the arm of the couch. Snape gave him a long assessing look. Harry noticed he looked more pale and pinched than usual, undoubtedly the effect of sitting on a chair for hours instead of sleeping. Harry looked away.

"Drink this." Snape said handing over the glass of water he had just poured. Harry drank it gratefully.

"Slowly." Snape admonished, but his voice was more concerned than cold. Harry slowed his guzzling and finished off the water. Getting sick had been awful and embarrassing but he almost instantly felt better.

"Professor – what happened to me?" Harry's question came out more child-like and shaky than he would have intended. He wanted to add and why am I here? But he didn't want to sound ungrateful.

"The Dark Lord tried to breach your mind." Snape said. Harry nodded, figuring that much out for himself. "When he was unsuccessful, he seemed to attempt to blast away your Occlumency shields to gain access to you. It resulted in some damage."

"Damage?" Harry repeated quietly. Was he going to be crazy now?

"The mind is bound by the organ that gives it life, the brain." Severus started slowly. "When someone tries to access thoughts, they are accessing the actual organ, to do so forcefully causes physical damage." Harry could feel his face pale. Maybe it was the stress of being sick, or reliving all of those memories he had buried so far down, maybe it was the pain, but Harry felt suddenly extremely vulnerable. He wished he was in the hospital wing with Hermione, Ron and Professor Dumbledore telling him that it was ok.

"I wanted to keep you here instead of the hospital wing as your mental connection with the Dark Lord is to be kept quiet." Snape said.

"And?" Harry asked in barely a whisper. This is just what he needed on top of the rumors of him being insane. Snape wordlessly passed a blanket to him. Harry didn't realize he was shivering until he accepted it.

"Thanks." Harry whispered, wrapping it around his shoulders.

"There was some bleeding but aside from that your brain is fine." Snape replied finally. Harry nodded, relieved. A not uneasy silence followed. Harry was lost in thought about Voldmort and Snape staring in to the fire.

"The physical symptoms you are experiencing are merely a response to the pain of the intrusion." Snape said. He noticed that Snape's voice sounded more strained than normal. Snape stared at his hands for a moment, apparently lost in thought.

"Are you hungry?" Snape asked suddenly.

"Pardon?" Harry said, broken out of his reverie.

"Food Potter. Would you like some?" Snape said, sounding more like himself.

"No thank you Professor." Harry replied. His stomach rolled at the very thought. Snape looked like he might consider forcing it on it him but after a moment he simply nodded.

"You will sleep here tonight." Snape said matter-of-factly. Before Harry could respond Snape had turned and walked through the door to his bedroom. Harry stared at the closed door.