There was no post on Sundays. And that, Vernon Dursley had stated, was his reason why Sunday was his favorite day. He leaned back, alone in the house, as always on Sunday, opened the morning paper, and began to sip his tea.

He looked up when there was a scratching at the window. A brown owl was scratching for admittance, and Vernon saw that there was a parchment tied to his leg. With a sigh of annoyance, he let the owl in. It was undoubtedly about Harry, perhaps the Easter holiday. Though he thought it was a little early. Well, whatever it was about, he was going to ask for Harry back over Easter break too.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,

The Ministry of Magic hereby informs you that the custody of one, Harry James Potter, has been removed from you and transferred to Severus Snape. After applying, and given the endorsement of Albus Dumbledore, the blood adoption preformed will protect the Savoir of the wizarding world more efficiently. We wish to thank you for your years of service to our kind.

Sincerely,

Minister Fudge

A year ago, if Vernon had received this letter, he would have framed it, and he knew that. Right now, he wanted to tear the paper to shreds, deny its existence, and demand Harry back for Easter. But what little part of his mind remained rational told him that that would be pointless. Instead, he crumpled it and threw it on the table. He shooed the owl out the window and slammed it shut.

Collapsing into the chair, Vernon unwrinkled the letter, and reread it. He knew the only reason he wanted the freak back was so that he could use him. But he didn't want to go to anyone else, or use anyone else. After all, it was wrong to use a normal person. But Harry was just a freak, a freak among freaks, even. It was that scar that had given him the idea after all, that perhaps it wasn't so wrong to have his own whore. The thought of a prostitute, male or female, repulsed him. He didn't want to have to share.

His only hope was to get in contact with this Severus Snape and arrange for regular visits with his nephew.

.oO-Oo.

Harry woke with a start, and almost fell out of his cot. Instinctively, he had grabbed his wand and was vaguely pointing it at anything that threatened to move. Why wasn't he in his dormitory? What had happened?

"Finally up, I see," a familiar voice drawled from behind him. Harry whirled and lowered his wand. Suddenly he remembered the previous night, and he shuddered.

"Yes, sir," Harry said nervously. Snape was dressed in his usual robes, and he had his wand at the ready. Similar to how he carried his wand, Harry noticed. But then, they probably had similar reasons. Harry was really trying to gauge Snape, but his face was unreadable like usual. "Good morning," he finally said.

"Good morning," Snape returned, almost pleasantly. "Your head of house contacted me this morning about your absence. I assured her that everything was alright, and you were with me. In case she asks you anything." He raised his eyebrow in a silent warning.

"Yes, sir. We were discussing the nature of potions, especially dreamless sleep," Harry said.

"I know exactly what we were doing," Snape said, with a highly contorted smirk on his face. "I was there." Harry tried not to snicker, and failed. It really wasn't funny, but it was. And apparently Snape agreed judging from his failing attempts not to smirk. "But back to the potions, you've abused dreamless sleep. You've seriously abused it."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, suddenly losing any desire to laugh. He was in trouble now. "I know, sir. But I only did it because - "

"I know why you did it," Snape cut off. "If it means anything to you, I understand. But that doesn't mean that what you've done to yourself is any less harmful."

"I don't see what's so horrible about it," Harry sulked. "I'm still here, aren't I? I don't think I would be without it. And it's not like it's hurting me. I just need to take it at night." Snape rolled his eyes.

"It's a drug addiction is what it is," Snape said shortly. Harry winced at the phrase. Technically, he supposed it was. But it wasn't like what Muggles called drug addiction. He was only seeking an escape from something to horrible for him to properly name most of the time. Then he reminded himself that that was why some Muggles took drugs too.

"But it doesn't hurt me," Harry repeated. "So what if I have to take it?"

"It does hurt you!" Snape said.

"How?" Harry challenged, his eyes narrowing. He wasn't ready to give up the only thing that made sleep bearable.

"Are you having trouble concentrating in class?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow as a challenge.

"Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"Are you forgetting things?"

"Yes, sir," he mumbled again, this time with a wince.

"And how does it feel when you realize you need to take it every night? When you go and drink it?"

"I feel like I'm - weak - and that I'll not take it tomorrow night, but I never do," Harry quietly admitted.

"And you don't think this is hurting you?"

"Maybe the last thing is connected to the dreamless sleep," Harry admitted, his voice almost petulant, "but the other two aren't from the potion!"

"Oh, yes they are," Snape contradicted. "Your brain needs to dream. And how long have you been denying your mind that?"

"Since about halfway through the school year," Harry shrugged, guiltily. "Before that, I used it off and on."

"Right," Snape said, so for two months you've been trying to make your brain not dream. It fails sometimes, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Harry confirmed.

"Because if it didn't, you would die," Snape said quietly. Then more loudly, "When you dream, your brain cools itself by several degrees. If it doesn't, you inflict brain damage on yourself. It kills off brain cells, which is why you're struggling to concentrate and remember. Do you see now?" Harry hung his head. If the potion did all that, then yes, he could see how it was hurting him.

"But the dreams will hurt me more," he whispered. When he looked up at Snape, his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"No, they won't," Snape insisted. "I can help - "

"You can't!" Harry suddenly shouted. In his wild grief and anger, he lost control of himself and grabbed his professor's shirt front for emphasis. Perhaps he was also reaching out for a pillar in storm too great for him to weather alone. "Do you know what I have to suffer through every time I dream?" Harry shouted. "Do you? I have to relive night after night with Vernon! Every time I dream! It was bad enough three times a week with him. I can't stand every night. I just can't. And you know what the worst part is? I enjoyed it!" He broke down and leaned his head against Snape, trying to regain control of himself. "I enjoyed it," he sobbed miserably.

Snape rolled his eyes as though he had an audience and had to apologize to them. Then he embraced Harry, and waited for the boy to collect himself.

"Care to explain?" was all he said, once the sobbing had slowed.

"No, sir," Harry said, pulling away, embarrassed and guilty, "We - I need to get to classes." He turned, refusing to meet Snape's eyes, and began to pick up his bag.

"It's Saturday," Snape reminded Harry gently.

"Oh," Harry said, suddenly stopping, and dropping his bag back where it was. That meant that Snape could keep him as long as he wanted, really. He would make him talk about everything, Harry knew. You just couldn't say no to Snape and get away with it.

"Care to explain?" Snape tried again, as he sat down on the sofa facing the empty fireplace. With a flick of his wand, there was a raging fire, and two steaming mugs on the coffee table. "Come over and sit down," he said gently, picking up a mug and handing it to Harry. Nervously, as if expecting a trap, Harry made his way around the couch and perched himself on the edge. He couldn't help but think the last time he had sat on a couch, alone with another man, this nervously - he stopped his thoughts there. He couldn't afford to get caught up in that memory, not now.

Snape must have seen how upset he was because suddenly he said, "You can put your feet on the couch if you take your shoes off." Quickly, Harry did just that and tucked his feet under him, and turned sideways on the sofa. It did make him feel a lot safer, and a lot more relaxed actually. "Here," Snape continued once Harry was settled, handing him the mug. "Chocolate is good for more than just dementors."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, with an apologetic smile. Snape picked up his own, and blew on it before taking a sip.

"Care to explain?" he tried for a third time. Harry put down the chocolate and glared at Snape, his lips pressed into a pale line. Then, while Snape patiently waited for an answer, Harry's breathing quickened, and he sucked his lips into his mouth. He began to blink quickly.

"I hate this," he whispered. "I never cried. Now I cry over everything. Why?"

"Because that's not true," Snape said. "You don't cry over everything. Just one thing. And you would have always cried over it. And you always will unless you come to grips with it."

"Yeah," Harry said bitterly. He would have made some self-insulting comment, but nothing came to him that didn't equally insult the man sitting across from him. Snape let him stew for a few moments before handing him the mug again.

"Take a sip," he ordered softly. Harry did as he was told, but showed no reaction save some color returning to his too pale cheeks. "You're starving yourself too."

"I am not," Harry contradicted quickly.

"Alright," Snape agreed. "Then why are you a walking skeleton?"

"Food doesn't taste good," Harry mumbled.

"Your hunger doesn't drive you to eat more even if you're not fond of it? Are you sure there isn't more?" Snape questioned.

"No," Harry said hesitantly, unsure how much information he wanted to divulge.

"What else is there?" Snape took another sip.

"I thought - that maybe if I, you know," Harry stalled and waved his hand to indicate that he thought that Snape understood.

"You thought that if you starved yourself..." Snape provided the concept that Harry couldn't say.

"Yeah," Harry agreed reluctantly, "that maybe Vernon wouldn't want to." He winced at how he couldn't even make himself say these things. He'd seen it; he'd done it. Why couldn't he name it?

"Did it ever work?"

"No, not really," Harry finally answered, his voice far away, as he was caught up in a memory. "It didn't help at all."

"You were remembering something," Snape observed.

"Yeah," Harry whispered bitterly.

"So why haven't you started to eat again now that you're at Hogwarts?" Snape pressed. "Take another sip."

"It doesn't taste any better," Harry murmured.

"Even the chocolate?" Snape asked. "How does that taste?"

"Like I shouldn't soil it with my mouth," Harry said.

"Explain."

"Do you know what's been in my mouth?" Harry snapped.

"I can imagine," Snape drawled lightly.

"And if you know what's been in my mouth," Harry said, "then how can I appreciate anything else being there? You don't need to lecture me on my eating habits, sir. Hermione's already been after me."

"Good girl," Snape said. "I get the distinct impression that she cares about you. Even the Weasley boy."

"They're my friends," Harry said suddenly very defensive.

"They don't know, do they?"

"No, sir," Harry said. "Just you, me, and Vernon."

"Why haven't you told them? Take another sip."

"How could I?"

"You could simply tell them the truth."

"I can't even name it! I can't talk about it without falling apart, and I get trapped in the memories! What sort of a friend would I be if I told them? I'm the one who's supposed to save them. Not the one who needs saving."

"The greatest leaders are the lowest of servants," Snape said, "so why shouldn't a savior need saving? The world is built on paradoxes." Harry closed his eyes, and tried to quell the violent shaking that had begun. The mug of chocolate slipped from his hands and broke on the floor. Without a word, Snape cleaned up the mess and had another mug on the table.

"Potter!" he said. "Come out of it! You're in my chambers!" No reaction. "Potter!" he tried again. "Harry! Harry James Severus Potter Snape, come out of it!" That got a reaction. Harry's eyes snapped open, and he sighed once.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's fine," Snape said.

"Why do you bother?" he muttered sullenly.

"Because I haven't seen you smile, not really smile, since last year." It was the last reason Harry expected to hear. It actually caused something of a smile to creep onto his face at that moment.

"I've never seen you smile, sir," Harry pointed out. Snape nodded.

"It's a rare occurrence," he admitted. "But I was not under the impression that we were here to talk about my state," he continued. "Take another sip." Snape handed him the fresh mug.

"No, thank you," Harry muttered as he refused the cup.

"Why?"

"I just don't want it," Harry whined.

"You like it, though?" Harry winced. How often he had heard that question!

"Yeah," he whispered hollowly. "I like it."

"If you think denying yourself chocolate is going to somehow be a punishment for any guilt you feel, it's not going to work," Snape finally said. "You know the two don't equate. You just haven't found something more serious to do to yourself."

"Then what would you have me do?" Harry leaned his shoulder against the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

"I want you to live."

"But i don't want to live!" Harry choked out. "I want the pain to stop!"

"I know," Snape said quietly.

"The only reason I didn't kill myself at Private Drive was because of my duty!" Harry went on. "It would have made Vol - I mean, You-Know-Who's job too easy."

"Not for your friends?"

"They would be better off if I were dead," Harry said, finally opening his eyes, but not pushing himself off the couch. Snape raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "I wouldn't drag them into trouble that way, and I wouldn't have to worry about - tainting them."

"How are you tainted?"

"Just stop!" Harry screamed. "Go away! I don't want to think about it anymore!" He fisted his hand against his temples in agony.

"You didn't want to talk about it at all," Snape pointed out. "Now take a sip, and calm down. That's an order." He tried again to hand Harry the cup, who uncurled himself enough to accept it. "Drink it!" Snape barked when Harry didn't do anything. Reluctantly he took a sip.

"Better?" he asked, almost pouting.

"Yes," Snape agreed. "What are you dreams like on the rare occurrences that you do dream?" Harry paled, looked shocked, and then set the mug down carefully before covering his face with his hands in shame. Snape heard Harry's breath hitch once, but that was all the sound he made. His shoulders shook silently, bowed with the weight they had been forced to carry from even years ago. The weight of the wizarding world hung on his shoulders, and Snape knew that Harry knew it. It was more than one individual - much less a child - should ever have bear alone.

Snape moved closer to Harry on the couch, though Harry gave no indication that he was aware. Also setting his chocolate down, Snape put his arms awkwardly around the boy and pulled him close. He didn't even resist, Snape noticed. Harry, on the other hand, once he was touched, had trained it into himself that he needed to let whatever would happen happen. He let Snape touch him as a carry over from a survival instinct with Vernon.

"They're terrible," Harry finally sobbed into the older man's arms.

"Are they simply memories?" Snape asked calmly. Harry was surprised at the amount of gentleness the man possessed when he tried.

"Sometimes," Harry replied, still trying to bring himself under control. "Sometimes its other things, or - or other people." Harry looked up and looked at Snape with his tear stained face. "It's pretty messed up, huh?"

"No," Snape said, shaking his head ruefully. "Not at all." He grabbed Harry firmly by the chin and forced him to continue to look at him. "How do you know that you enjoyed it?" That brought a fresh round of tears from Harry. "Shh," Snape said, letting the eye contact be lost.

"I was aroused," Harry sniffled into Snape's robes quite pitifully. It disturbed Harry more than he wanted to admit.

"That's a natural reaction," Snape said. "You have no control over it."

"I know," Harry whispered. "But it's horrible." Snape just nodded, and didn't force Harry away from him.

"Your body may have enjoyed it," Snape finally said, "but you didn't. Don't confuse your body with you. Your body is part of you, but it isn't the only part, and it isn't the most important part either. You're so much more than your body." Harry nodded, unable to meet Snape's eyes. "That is one mistake your uncle made - seeing you as only your body. Don't make the same mistake."

"I - I don't think I'll ever be able - " Harry quietly stammered. Snape waited without pushing him. "I don't think I'll ever be able to put the woman I'll love through that." Snape sighed sadly.

"You may be right," Snape said. "Sometimes you never recover."

.oO-Oo.

This was his tragic story being played out again. Severus swore to himself that he would do everything in his power to make it as bearable for the child in his arms. In his arms! How had this happened? Severus would have pushed Potter away, if he had thought that it wouldn't hurt him. If he let him go now, Potter would undoubtedly take it as a sign that he was too "messed up," as the boy eloquently put it, for even his adoptive father (the thought!) to touch him.

"I want you to start eating," Severus said firmly. "Even if Miss Granger has spoken to you about it, I need you to eat more. I will be keeping an eye on you in the Great Hall for meals. I expect you to eat a decent amount. Alright?"

"Yes, sir," Potter said. "Don't touch me." He pushed Severus' arms away, and Severus complied.

"I want you to give me the rest of your stocks of dreamless sleep as well," he continued.

"What?" Potter said, paling with shock. "I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because I won't be able to sleep! And if I do, I'll dream!"

"That's the whole point," Severus drawled. "You're supposed to dream. But here's what you can do. There's always a sign that you're dreaming in the dream. Some little thing out of place. One wrong sentence. Pay attention to details when you dream. By the very fact that you may ask yourself if it is a dream, you can know that it is. Take control of the situation then and order yourself to wake up. It will take some practice, but that is the basis of lucid dreaming. Your mind can't produce an exact replica of reality. Take advantage of that."

"Thank you, sir," Potter said, actually sounding a bit relieved.

"It takes a strong mind, but you have demonstrated that you already have one, by keeping me out of your most personal memories."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," Potter said. He reached over and picked up the hot chocolate. After taking one sip, he said, "I think I've taken up enough of your time." He set the mug down and got up from the couch. "I hope you're feeling better this morning. I'll have the essay done by Monday."

"I am, thank you," Severus said, also rising. "Be sure to support your opinion with text from the book."

"I will, sir," Potter said, picking up his bag. "Be kind to yourself, sir." He turned quickly and reached to open the door.

"Harry," Severus said, "you too."