Harry woke up, and slipped off the couch, clutching the blanket to his chest fearfully. The room was very quiet. He had slept peacefully, without nightmares, just as Snape had promised. He felt a sob tear at his chest. Snape had seen his dream. Snape knew what a horrible boy he was. His uncle had often told him how he couldn't get anything right, and it seemed he had just failed again, letting Snape see that. He had been given a chance to start again, and he just kept messing it up. Showing Snape his weaknesses, and how bad he was. It couldn't be good.

But Snape had asked to see his nightmare. And if he hadn't shown Snape, he would have been punished. It was just the reality of the situation, Harry supposed, that since he was that bad, he would have to show people that sort of thing.

The whole experience had been very strange. Snape - this man, this wizard - had touched his mind. Harry knew it was magic of some sort. His uncle had never done anything like that, and he knew that if used different touching his mind could be something very, very painful. He was sure if his uncle could have done it, he would have. He had made his uncle mad so many times!

Yet Harry felt a little better having shown Snape the dream. He was still scared - petrified - because he was sure that Snape would finally see him for what he was. Weak and horrible. But he felt better that maybe Snape would finally treat him in a way that he would understand. The big rooms still scared him, and he had to start working on paying Snape back for sleeping on the couch, the food, and especially the medicine. Snape had told him that he didn't owe anything, but Harry knew that there would come a day when Snape would get tired of giving him things, and he would invoke old debts. He moved across the room into the kitchen.

"Master Harry Potter!" he heard as soon as he entered the kitchen, still holding the blanket, but unaware of that little fact. He spun to face the little high voice. He saw Nitty ironing Snape's freshly cleaned robes. "What is you doing in here?" She was standing on a chair, and placed her hands on her hips, glaring at him.

"I - I was - I mean - I wanted..." He had never seen anything like the little house elf before.

"You's need to be getting back to sleep," she demanded.

"I can't," he defended. "I should be doing chores."

"I be doing all the chores around here, Master Harry," she said, wagging her finger at him slightly sassily. "No need to worry."

"But - but that's my job!" He was just so confused! There was this little - person - who did the chores? Did Snape treat this little one like the Dursleys had treated him? She looked strange, but it seemed like she was supposed to look that way. So Harry doubted that Snape beat this little...girl?

"You sayin' I don't do a good enough job?" she challenged.

"No," Harry said cautiously. "Who are you?"

"I'm Nitty," she said. "And you's need to be getting back on the sofa."

"Can I help you with that? I'm really good with ironing."

"You's really intent on doing chores, aren't you, Master Harry?"

"Yes, ma'am, I have to."

"I's not a ma'am!" she shrieked, suddenly startled. "I'm Nitty!" Harry came closer to her, and in her shock, she had let her iron go. Harry picked it up and began to run it across Snape's robes.

"You stop that, Master Harry!" she shouted, recovering herself, and lightly slapping his hands. "That be my job! Master Severus told me to keep you sleeping or eating! No work for you!" Nitty used reserves of house elf magic which blew Harry back into a chair in kitchen. "You will sit there and eat your lunch. Or supper, rather. You's been asleep all day." Harry suddenly looked scared and unsure. He tried to get up, but the house elf magic held him there, and he began to panic. Last time he had been tied to a chair... He started to choke back violent sobs.

Nitty began to look panicked too at Harry's reaction. What was wrong with this stupid little boy? He should know not to help an elf, and he was making her job a lot harder by trying to help. He wasn't well, and now something was upsetting him. Did he really want to help her that much?

"MASTER SEVERUS!" she screamed, and popped out of the room. Harry screamed a bit when he saw her disappear. He still couldn't move from the chair and started to cry freely. Panic was overwhelming him. Snape was going to come back, and he hoped he wouldn't be upset with Nitty. He hadn't been very cooperative, he knew that, but he hoped that Snape would take his frustration out on him and not the little - person. He wasn't sure what Nitty was. She wasn't quite human, but that didn't matter.

.oO-Oo.

He was down in laboratory, brewing more potions for Poppy's ward. Suddenly, Nitty popped into appearance, screaming his name. He knew Nitty knew not to interrupt his brewing unless it was something quite serious. And right now, the most likely thing to have gone wrong would have something to do with Harry.

"What's wrong?" he barked, pausing his brewing.

"It's Master Harry!" she began sobbing and blurring out. Silly house elves! Severus thought. Every house elf, if sorted, would end up in Hufflepuff.

"What's wrong with Harry?" He was putting away the most dangerous of his potions ingredients. No matter what was wrong with Harry it wouldn't do to leave highly poisonous things laying around.

"He came in and wanted to help me, but I tells him, he's not to do that, and so he tried anyway, and so's I put him in a chair, and he's up there, really scared, Master Severus, really scared! I don't know what's he's scared of!" She was fairly blathering by the end, in clear distress.

"I'll be right up there to take care of it," he said calmly, trying to stabilize the poor little elf. "I'll need you to come with me, so that you can release Harry." Of course the house elf didn't know how to handle the boy, he huffed. Pinning him in a chair, as he was sure Nitty had done, was certainly not a good way to handle him. In a moment, Severus was bounding up the long staircase up to his kitchen, with Nitty running behind him.

He opened the kitchen door, and saw Harry sitting in a chair, slumped against his magical restraints, crying softly in despair. Severus approached him, and held his arms out, ready to catch him. Signaling to Nitty to release him, Harry fell forward into his strong arms, but didn't really react. Severus suspected that Harry was too deep in some memory to react. Severus wondered at the horror of what Harry was reliving at the moment. Harry just kept crying softly as Severus sat down in the chair, pulling Harry on his lap. He let Harry lean against him, began rocking a bit, and whispered soothing sounds to him.

"It's alright, Harry, I'm here. Nitty didn't mean anything by it. She's sorry. Are you alright? It's alright to cry." He kept a steady stream of words flowing, until Harry stopped crying.

"Please," Harry whispered. "Please don't hurt her. She was only trying to do what you told her to. I didn't do what she said. I'm sorry. Please don't hurt her." Ah, there was the kind and gentle nature of the boy. Of course his first thought would be to try to defend Nitty. He only hoped that Nitty's sharp tongue hadn't hurt Harry too much.

"I won't hurt her," Severus assured Harry. "I won't lay a hand on her, and I won't take away her food. I won't harm her in any way." He wrapped his arms around Harry, and pressed his own cheek against Harry's mop of black hair. He sighed.

"I's sorry, Master Harry!" Nitty pitched in. "I's really sorry!" Severus heard Harry's breath hitch and he felt Harry nod at Nitty. With a look, Severus sent Nitty away. He would speak with her later, and for Harry's sake, he would make sure he was especially gentle with the elf. Not that he ever actually hurt his elf. He could just be short-tempered and snippy with her sometimes. Where did he think she'd learned her sharp tongue? With another sigh, Severus turned Harry so that they looked at each other.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have left you alone, and I shouldn't have had Nitty look after you. By the way, Nitty is a house elf, in case you were wondering." He knew he had made a mistake, and he was truly sorry. He hadn't had the boy for twenty-four hours, and he'd already messed up! Oh, he hoped he would be able to suffice for the boy. Harry just sat there, silent, searching his face with those large green eyes. Severus slowly lifted his hand touched Harry's forehead, ignoring the flinch. He ran his hand through Harry's hair, and then brought Harry into another embrace. He hoped Harry would one day trust him. If Harry could trust anyone.

Severus knew he wasn't going to be able to guess everything that had happened to Harry. He didn't even want to know. But he knew he would have to talk to Harry. And he needed to get the boy as well as possible as quickly as possible. Albus Dumbledore wasn't going to wait for Harry to be well to start his meddling again. And Severus was sure that he would begin again. He had bought some time for Harry, but he didn't know how much.

"I told someone about my nightmare last night," he said, breaking his thoughts. "I promised you I would, and I did." Harry didn't react. "I think it might help. Harry?"

"Yes, sir," he said softly. He hitched another breath and voluntarily laid his head against Severus' chest, snuggling a bit. Severus was floored, but accepted it wordlessly. Usually he would have been appalled at the thought that he would ever allow an eleven year old to sit on his lap much less snuggle in his robes, but he was overjoyed now to see any bit of trust from Harry. Even if it was just momentarily because Harry lifted his head again and looked guilty.

"It's alright, Harry," he said. "You may snuggle. You've missed so much. I'm so sorry." He felt tears rise to his own eyes, but blinked them back. It had been ten years since he cried last. He cried over Lily's body and swore he would never love or cry ever again. He had stayed true to his promise until last night when he realized he did love this child - Lily's child - and that only magnified the guilt he felt. He could see Lily accusing him. Or maybe it was only his conscience disguised as Lily. He felt like he was personally responsible for every scar, both mental and physical, that had been placed upon Harry. He pinched the bridge of his nose, banishing any more tears than threatened to fall.

.oO-Oo.

Harry didn't know why Snape was apologizing. He was an adult, and he didn't need to apologize. And Harry couldn't even think of anything the man had done to hurt him at all. Why on earth would he be apologizing? It felt so good to be held by him. It was scary, but he felt good when Snape held him. He knew he had put his face into Snape's clothes. Snape had called it snuggling. He knew he had snuggled, but he felt guilty, having taken something like that for himself.

His uncle had drilled it into him that he was never to take anything, and never to ask for anything. Of course, he still took things occasionally, when he really needed them, and tried not to get caught. If he got caught, it was hell for him. It had happened a few times, when he stole food, and his uncle or Dudley had seen it. His aunt never even looked at him if she could help it, but his uncle and Dudley didn't mind looking at him or touching him.

And neither did Snape. Snape didn't mind looking at him or touching him either, but it was so different from Uncle Vernon or Dudley. And even though he had slept all day, apparently, Harry was still tired. He was so tired. He felt his eyelids getting heavy, and he leaned against Snape again. Even if it was a trick, he would still get a moment of comfort from it, and he would hold on to that memory until the day he finally died. But Snape didn't push him away, or call him a freak, or make fun of him. He just put a hand over his head and supported him with warm, firm touches.

Harry heard something, but wasn't sure what it was. It sounded like singing. He pulled himself to consciousness long enough to realize that Snape was humming, and the vibrations of his chest lulled him to sleep.

.oO-Oo.

Severus was pleased when Harry again leaned into him, and he held Harry, firmly but gently. Firmly enough to be safe, but gently enough that Harry knew he could push away at a moment's notice. He saw how tired Harry looked. Undoubtedly, the last incident had taken a lot of energy, and not only that, but Harry was catching up on much needed sleep over the last ten years.

He began to hum a melody he remembered his mother singing to him. It was an old wizarding lullaby, and he couldn't remember the words for the life of him. Harry's breathing evened out, and his muscles relaxed a bit. They were still incredibly tight, but he wasn't as stiff as he was when he was awake. He should give the boy massages when Harry trusted him enough to do it. Severus still hummed, even though he knew Harry was asleep, but he still did for some reason. The blasted boy was turning him into an emotional fool of a Hufflepuff.

But he would turn into an emotional fool of a Hufflepuff if that was what Harry needed, he knew. He'd have the intelligence of a Ravenclaw, the emotionalism of a Hufflepuff, and, God forbid, the courage of a Gryffindor, if that was what Harry needed. He would do anything possible for the little form that had fallen asleep on him.

His reputation would be shot. He knew Harry would still be staying with him at the beginning of the school year. And he'd have a firstie trailing with him. So much for the cold, dark dungeon bat. He couldn't keep his mask up even in public if Harry was with him. It would terrify the poor boy out of his mind.

How would he justify this change of events to the other Death Eaters? Especially Lucius? He put those thoughts out of his mind. He knew he'd come up with something when the time was right. He always did.

Thinking back to the Harry's dream, still burned into his mind, Severus took one of Harry's hands in his own. The skin was rough with scars from cuts and burns, and Severus moved his thumb over the skin softly. No one - but especially not a child - should have skin like this. He shuttered to think the horrors that had caused the burn marks on Harry's hands. What torture had the Dursleys invented to cause it? Perhaps the Dark Lord could learn a few things from them, he thought ruefully.

He pushed Harry's hoodie sleeve up a couple of inches, and saw the scars and burns from the ropes. He had remembered seeing them when he healed them. He had wondered what had caused them. He knew, but he couldn't believe it. He had known Harry had been tied, but he just hadn't been able to believe it. What else would he find out about this child? Running this fingers over the rope burns, he sighed.

It seemed that with every step of progress he made with Harry, there was another horror he learned about. And Severus wasn't foolish enough to believe it would end any time soon. He knew that this cycle would continue for a long time. He was prepared for a long summer. And a long school year.

Sometime soon, perhaps tomorrow, he wanted to know about the scars that ran over Harry's arms. The scars were deep, perfectly parallel, and had certainly been made with a knife. Had Harry really been partaking in self-harm? Or did the scars tell a different story? There were so many of them. Severus was reminded that he still bore the marks of his own self-harm. But he could count them on both hands. Self-harm or not, Severus was ready to help Harry. The upside to self-harm was that Harry was expressing himself, even if it was an awful way. If it wasn't self-harm, it was another stumbling block to remove.

He thought back to his own experiences with self-harm. He was sitting outside the castle, in the fall of his fourth year, and he had instructed Lily to leave him alone. She didn't need to be troubled with his own twisted sense of justice. But, like the Gryffindor she was, she hadn't listened, and sought him out anyway. He remembered holding the knife millimeters above his arm, as he bled from a different laceration made minutes before, focusing on the pain, and the blood flowing freely. Lily had shrieked at him, and he had looked over at her with dead eyes. She wasn't supposed to be there to see it. He knew it was stupid, and he was doing it anyway. It was what he felt he deserved. It was why he never made a move to claim Lily as his own. He wasn't good enough for her. She was a pure as her name. And he also lived up to his.

She had brought him to Poppy with a story about getting cut while swimming in the lake. Not only was his hair not wet, but Poppy knew he didn't swim. But she hadn't asked any questions or reported it to anyone. Perhaps she should have though, Severus thought, because it wasn't the last time he fell into that. Maybe his need for self punishment was part of his reason for joining the Death Eaters.

He hated his sick need for punishment. He had enough control to not cut himself anymore, but he couldn't help torturing himself with memories, like he was doing at the moment. Perhaps that was why he hadn't gone to see anyone about his nightmares. No, he knew that was the reason. He felt he deserved them and every aspect of them that tortured him. It wasn't only his father that haunted his dreams. Lily's accusing eyes, James Potter and his gang, and the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. He relived all these memories whenever he closed his eyes, and then sometimes his mind combined them all into something of a super-nightmare and they were all together at once. And talking to Minerva hadn't changed his opinions. But he was a man of his word, if nothing else, and he knew Harry didn't deserve his nightmares. If it was the only way to convince Harry to face his nightmares, then he would try to shake off his own.

If these were the effects of his abuse, what would Harry's torture mean for him?

He looked at Harry's face, and realized it was beautiful. As Harry slept, his chest slowly rising and falling, he looked at peace. Yes, he was broken, but he was beautiful in his own way. There were a lot of things that had happened to Harry, but none of them had taken his innocence.

He shouldn't be raising this boy. They both had seen too much. And he had lost his innocence long ago. He didn't want to destroy Harry's. He was afraid of making a mistake. What if he damaged Harry more than he already was? Lily voice - the only voice of reason in his childhood - told him that he couldn't do that. He was still afraid he would find a way.

He felt inadequate. All the time, he felt inadequate. He wasn't cut out to be a professor, especially a head of house. And he certainly wasn't cut out to look after a child full time. It wasn't like his father had ever been a good example for him. He didn't know anything about how to care for a child, much less a child as broken as Harry.

Love hurt. It hurt so much right now, and he had never wanted to feel it again. The last time he felt it was when he had seen Lily's cold dead body. And every Halloween after that. He was opening himself up to so much hurt, and he didn't care. He felt a sense of purpose that he also hadn't felt since Lily's death. He knew how dangerous it was to build his life around one person. He had already been through its affects. But despite the fact that his brain screamed warnings at making the same mistake again, his heart just wouldn't listen. Well, his brain finally said, not my fault when you get hurt again. I warned you.

Severus felt his own eyes begin to close as well. He was disappointed that Harry had only eaten half a bowl of rice cereal, but he couldn't wake him up to eat. Harry needed his sleep as much as he needed food, and he had eaten something that day. Severus was certain that if Harry had been at the Dursleys, he wouldn't have gotten anything.

Severus fell into the welcoming arms of sleep.

.oO-Oo.

Harry woke with a small start. He hadn't had any nightmares. Quickly he realized he was still in Snape's arms, still leaning against his chest. Snape's head was resting against his own, and Harry was still in an embrace. He squirmed a little bit.

"Shh," Snape muttered, half awake already. "You're safe. I have you. Can you eat anything?" Harry shook his head tiredly. He'd already eaten once today. What was Snape talking about? It had been a big meal too.

"Here," Snape said after a moment, pressing a tube into his hands. "Drink this, and I won't make you eat anything. This time. It has nutrients in it. It tastes awful, but you need it. You also need your rest." Harry took the vial and drank it wordlessly. He was already indebted to this man for the rest of his life, so what was a little more?

He knew what would happen to him if he died before he could even out the scales but that didn't matter. He was sure he would die before then anyway. Snape was right, it did taste something awful. He shuttered, and held the empty vial out to Snape, who took it and set it on the nearby table.

"I'm going to get up and put you to bed," he whispered, getting up.

"Do I have to?" Harry whispered back, also half asleep.

.oO-Oo.

Severus doubted that Harry would have asked that question if he had been in full possession of himself. In the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, Harry didn't have the same inhibitions.

"What would you like to do?" he whispered, holding Harry on his hip. Even if Harry had weighed a normal amount, he would have been plenty strong enough, but thin as he was, it was very easy holding him.

"I want to stay with you," he thought he heard Harry mutter, still half asleep. "I don't have nightmares." Well, that jolted Severus awake like nothing else. Alright, Harry was still mostly asleep. He doubted whether Harry would even remember this conversation. On the one hand, Severus hoped he would so that Harry would know he could express what he wanted without fear of punishment, and on the other, he hoped he wouldn't, because Harry might fear a punishment for have stated such, even if Severus had not laid a violent hand on him.

"Alright," Severus said after his shock eased a bit. "You can stay with me." Harry nodded and snuggled into his robes. It might be awkward, and if anyone knew, scandalous, but let public opinion be hanged, Harry had expressed what he wanted, and Severus was going to see to it that Harry did stay with him. No one had to know. Anyone who knew what was really happening wouldn't have a problem and no one else was going to find out.

Walking into his bedroom, Severus laid the again sleeping form out on the bed. Harry whimpered as the last of physical contact was broken. Sighing, Severus laid himself out beside Harry, and brought him close, pulling the blankets over them both and falling asleep, grateful that Harry was sleeping a bed, with pillows and a comforter.

.oO-Oo.

There was a crash, and Harry jolted awake, but he felt something restraining him from sitting up. He was terrified. Something had woken him, and it wasn't a nightmare. Once again, he realized he was in Snape's arms. But this time they were in a bed, and he recalled the dream he'd had. Realizing it wasn't a dream, he groaned slightly, and his fear increased.

"Shh," Snape said, giving him a bit more room. "It's just a bit of thunder. You can sleep on the sofa if you've changed your mind." But much as this whole situation disgusted him, Harry didn't want to be alone. Snape's touch was so nice. He liked it. Which was he more scared of? The current situation or being alone?

"I won't hurt you, I promise," Snape whispered.

.oO-Oo.

Severus heard the thunder, and then felt Harry squirm. He heard Harry make some sort of a vocalization, and knew Harry remembered what had happened earlier. He could feel the fear mounting in the boy.

"Shh," he whispered, moving a bit so the boy wouldn't be forced to maintain contact with him. "It's just a bit of thunder. You can sleep on the sofa if you've changed your mind." He didn't want to keep Harry with him if Harry had any qualms. But he didn't want to make Harry feel unwanted. He truly didn't mind if Harry stayed with him. Honestly, he hadn't had any nightmares either. And as much as he knew he deserved them, it was pleasant to sleep without them. Without any nightmares about anything. But Harry's fear just kept rising and Severus could feel the indecision.

How stupid of him! He was just a stupid idiot! He wasn't living up to expectations as a spy and a Slytherin! Where had his observational skills and intuition gone on holiday? Severus went down a list of every insult he knew and applied every one to himself. And that was a very long list. Of course. He hadn't even thought of such a thing. Vernon was just the kind to use the boy like that too. Why hadn't he thought of that sooner? Well, if he were honest with himself, it was because he had never had to think of it before. Of course Harry would feel scared. Severus didn't know how the boy had ever wished to stay with him.

"I won't hurt you, I promise," he whispered, trying to ease Harry a bit. He knew his words were nothing compared to what had been done to Harry. But it was all he could offer right now. He felt grief tearing at him, but didn't know what to do with it. He wished he could take all of Harry's pain himself.

He felt Harry move closer to him, and he put his arms around the boy, trying to comfort him. Harry's fear of being alone right now had overcome any other fears he had, and Severus felt proud that Harry had chosen to trust him that much.

"I'll always keep you safe," he whispered knowing he would have to address this in the morning, and fell asleep again, as Harry did so as well.