Harry finally lay down to sleep, though it wasn’t restful. Memories of life at the Dursleys paraded through his dreams mixed with nightmares of Voldemort and what he was doing. Torturing Muggles and Muggleborns, never granting mercy.

However, Harry was granted mercy and woke up screaming in the early hours of the morning. He opened his eyes to find a slightly blurry Snape standing beside him.

“The Dark Lord?” asked Snape.

“No, just my imagination working overtime,” said Harry. For once, his scar wasn’t burning upon waking. He rolled over and attempted to go back to sleep. He found himself unable to and his thoughts wandering to Snape’s questions from the night before.

Why had he refused to answer Snape’s questions about the Dursleys? It didn’t even matter anymore. Uncle Vernon was dead and had already told Voldemort everything, including the fact that he was suicidal. Voldemort had loved that. The famed hero of the Wizarding World, the boy-who-lived, wanted to die. He’d gotten a real kick out of laughing at Harry about that.

He wondered how long it would take for Voldemort to send an anonymous report to the Daily Prophet, telling them everything. He could see the headlines now. ‘Boy-Who-Lived Abused and Suicidal.’ Bloody hell. He’d never live it down.

And then Snape would probably make him tell. He was going to have to anyways. Snape wouldn’t let him alone until he knew what happened to Harry. And the torture. That was the worst part. At least his Uncle had had a reason; the Death Eaters did it purely for sport. He hadn’t asked about it yet, but he was surely going to soon. Harry was dreading the day Snape asked that question.

Harry heard light breathing above him and knew that Snape was still there.

“Would you like a Sleeping Draught?” asked Snape. Snape was offering to help him! That was strange. It didn’t matter anyways. Sleeping Draughts didn’t work for him, not anymore.

“They don’t work for me,” he said without moving.

“I see,” said Snape. “Do try and get some sleep.” Harry heard his footsteps recede and the door close gently. He sighed and flipped over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Now he was never going to get back to sleep.

~Snape’s POV~

Snape walked out of the room and carefully shut the door. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep, so he headed to the library to get his copy of ‘1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi.’

He was going to try to create a potion for Harry that wasn’t addictive or dangerous in high quantities, like the Dreamless Sleep potion. He found the book and went to his office, where he settled down at his desk with a parchment and quill, ready to take notes. The potion would have to have the base of Dreamless Sleep potion, which a few minor ingredient replacements, so he quickly wrote it out and began reading the section entitled, ‘Sleep-inducing Plants.’

Several hours later, the sun had fully risen and he had a list of ingredients that he theorized would work together. He closed the book and headed to his lab with the parchment. He’d omitted several of the dangerous ingredients and substituted safer ingredients for them. He’d replaced belladonna, which is lethal in high quantities, with verbena, which was a much milder form.

He pulled out a large cauldron and got to work selecting ingredients. After several hours of trial and error, he had a potion he believed would work. He would have to wait two nights before giving it to Harry, so that the Dreamless Sleep potion would be out of his system, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try it on himself.

He would have to tell Lupin about it and then try it that night, then give it to Harry and watch to make sure the potion didn’t affect him differently.

He glanced down at his watch and was shocked when he saw that it was nearly time for lunch. He went back upstairs and found Lupin emerging from the library.

“Really quite a fascinating collection of books you have here,” said Lupin. Yes, fascinatingly full of Dark Arts books, thought Snape.

“Yes, a lot of them have been passed down through my family,” said Snape aloud.

“I finished your mirror,” said Lupin, holding up the shiny glass that Snape had given him the night before. Snape took it and put it inside the pocket of his robes.

“I have Harry’s as well. It’s charmed to be indestructible. Short of blowing it up with a Muggle bomb or maybe Avada Kedavra-ing it, he can’t break it.” said Lupin with a smile.

“Good idea,” said Snape. They might have managed to get through to him the night before, but there was still a danger that he might hurt himself again and the means of communication with both Snape and Lupin might help keep him from doing it again. He didn’t want that to happen again. It might help if he didn’t have all those nightmares.

“Better give it to him at lunch,” said Snape. However, Harry didn’t show up at lunch. Snape went up to Harry’s room about mid-afternoon to check up on him and give him another dose of the Fever Reducing potion. He carefully opened the door and saw that Harry was sleeping peacefully for the first time that he knew of.

Reluctant as he was to disturb Harry, he needed to give Harry his potion, or he could get sick again. Harry had enough problems without adding an illness to them. Hen gently shook Harry and saw his eyes open. He looked much better than he had been when Snape had rescued him, though he knew some of Harry’s injuries were still mending.

Harry blinked tiredly and said, “What?”

“You missed lunch and it’s almost time for your next dose of Fever Reducer.,” said Snape. Harry pushed his blankets back and sat up.

“Why did you miss lunch?” asked Snape.

“I was asleep,” said Harry.

“You weren’t…doing anything you shouldn’t, were you?” asked Snape.

“What is this, twenty bloody questions? I was sleeping, all right! Are you satisfied now?” asked Harry. “Shit,” he muttered and dropped his head into his hands. No, he wasn’t satisfied, but that could wait. Harry looked upset. What reason did he have for being upset; he wasn’t going to yell at him for speaking his mind.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” asked Snape.

“Leave me alone,” mumbled Harry from behind his hands. Snape grabbed Harry’s wrists and pulled his hands away from his face.

“I am not going to leave you alone. I am your father and I want to help you,” said Snape. His wanting to help Harry had apparently not gotten through to him the first time he’d said it to Harry. He hadn’t been feeling well, and judging from the warmth of his hands, he still wasn’t. Harry looked up at him with wide, startled green eyes.

“I really do want to help you,” said Snape. He lightly rubbed Harry’s arm where he knew a series of white scars were with his thumb. Harry flinched slightly, but Snape kept his hold on Harry.

“I need you to tell me everything so I can help you,” said Snape, keeping his eyes locked with Harry’s. Harry bit his lip and closed his eyes, not wanting to tell him yet. Then his eyes opened and Snape could see tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. He looked so remarkably child-like in that instant and Snape was forced to see how fast Harry had had to grow up. Harry fixed his gaze on the wall behind Snape and began to speak.

“As soon as we got back from King’s Cross Station, my Uncle flipped out. He was angry that the Order had told him that they weren’t to do anything to me and that I was to be properly taken care of or else the Order would come after them. I was supposed to write to the Order every three days telling them if anything was wrong. My Uncle took Hedwig away and said that I had better write a letter every three days telling my freaky friends that I was being properly taken care of. He was going to read each letter over before sending them with Hedwig.”

Harry’s hands were shaking and he was determinedly looking anywhere but at Snape.

“He…he hit me until I passed out and when I woke up the next morning the door was locked and there was a list of chores for me to do when my aunt let me out of my room. It was a long list and I didn’t have enough time before he got home to do even half of them. When he came home, he hit me again. The next day, he gave me another list. It went on the same every day,” said Harry. Snape had a feeling he was omitting quite a lot, but at least he was talking.

“What about those?” asked Snape, tapping on Harry’s wrist.

“The second night, I had a dream about Sirius. I was in the Department of Mysteries, the Death Chamber. I was staring at the veil and these voices kept whispering to me, not loud enough to tell what they were saying, but they sounded angry. Then, Sirius came out from behind the veil. He wasn’t like the Sirius I remembered, though. His hair was long and matted and his robes were shredded. He pointed a finger at me and said, ‘It’s all your fault I’m dead. Look what you’ve done to me. Condemned me to a life of hell worse than Azkaban. It’s all your fault!’ Other people came out of the veil, Cedric, mum, James, some strange man I remember coming out of Voldemort’s wand in the graveyard, others I didn’t recognize. The voices rose and I could hear them saying, ‘It’s your fault’ over and over again. Then the faces all melted together and disappeared behind the veil, which molded into Voldemort. He said, ‘Look at all the pain you’ve caused, all the people you’ve killed. They all blame you. It is, after all, you’re fault they’re dead.’ I woke up screaming. I couldn’t get back to sleep the rest of the night. I kept thinking how they were all right about it being my fault that they were dead and I just…wanted a way out. I remembered the mirror that Sirius had given me and how I’d smashed it and how it would be the perfect solution to my problem.”

Harry stopped and squeezed his eyes shut. Snape could see tears beginning to slide down his face.

“I…I cut my wrist open and when it bled…..it felt like…all my problems were just flowing out of my body along with my blood. I just felt so…free. Then the blood stopped flowing and the next night I did it after another dream. The dreams and my uncle and that damned prophecy. And then my mum has to destroy the image of my perfect parents. I couldn’t take it anymore. All I wanted was to die and leave all of my problems behind,” said Harry. He was staring at the floor now.

“What changed?” asked Snape quietly.

“I don’t know. Maybe it was Professor Lupin. Maybe it was you. Or maybe it was the fact that I have something to live for now.” said Harry.

Snape had never wanted to hug Harry more than at that point, but he knew that it would be too much physical contact for both of them, especially after Harry re-living his worst memories. He heard the door open and mentally cursed Lupin for coming in right when he had finally gotten Harry to open up.

“Severus, are you in here? It’s nearly time for supper,” said Lupin quietly. Snape released Harry’s arms and turned to Lupin.

“Yes, I’m in here,” said Snape. The door opened the rest of the way and Lupin came in the room. Lupin gestured to his pocket and Snape figured that he was talking about the mirror. Snape pulled Harry’s fixed mirror out of his pocket.

“Lupin fixed this for you. You can use it to contact either him or me if you need to,” said Snape. Harry took it from Snape and glanced at it for a moment before setting in on the bed next to him.

“Ready to come down now Harry?” asked Lupin.

“Yeah, just give me a second to change,” said Harry. Snape and Lupin left Harry’s room and shut the door behind them.

“What were you doing in there all this time?” asked Lupin.

“Talking to Harry. He finally told me what happened while he was with his relatives,” said Snape. “What happened?” asked Lupin.

“That is for Harry to tell you when he feels he is ready. In the meantime, I would suggest that you don’t touch him, not unless you have to,” said Snape.

He was saved from explaining further by Harry emerging from his room. He had changed into ragged Muggle clothes that certainly looked as though they had seen better days. He decided that he would have to take Harry shopping sometime. Harry walked towards them and Snape could see that Harry was limping slightly.

Damn Lucius, thought Snape. Lucius was notorious for the kind of damage he could inflict with that stupid staff and his silver-toed boots. Snape separated himself from Lupin so that Harry could walk between them in case anything happened. Harry was still sick, after all, but he probably didn’t want to be cooped up in his room so much.

They headed downstairs, where Twinkle served a rather large dinner. Halfway through the meal, Snape noticed that Harry was poking at his food rather than eating it.

“Harry,” he said. Apparently, Harry had been in his own little world, because he jumped slightly before turning to face him.

“What?” asked Harry.

“What are you doing?” asked Snape.

“Eating, what else would I be doing?” drawled Harry in a way that was so close to his own that he was shocked. Harry was definitely going to scare his little Gryffindor friends when he got back to school. Harry excused himself several minutes later.

Once he was out of the room, Lupin said, “Picking up on your habits, isn’t he?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” said Snape. Lupin left soon after that, saying that he really should get back to headquarters. He Floo-ed away and Snape and Harry were left alone in the house once again. He headed upstairs to his room to get ready for bed.

He was just passing Harry’s room when he heard a muffled thud. Since they were alone in the house, he knew it had to be Harry. He turned around and opened the door to Harry’s room. The light was on, but Harry was nowhere in sight.

“Harry?” he called out. He turned to the bathroom door and found it closed. What is it with Harry and bathrooms, he found himself wondering. He opened the door, not bothering to know this time, knowing that something had to have happened to Harry.

“Harry!” he exclaimed as he knelt by his son, who lay in a heap on the wet bathroom floor. He lifted him up and saw that Harry had a two inch long gash on the left side of his forehead, which was bleeding quite profusely.

He grabbed a towel from beside the sink and pressed it firmly to the cut on Harry’s head. Shit, how were you supposed to treat a head wound? He certainly was no Medi-wizard, though he did know his potions; he didn’t think there was one for a head injury. He did know that Harry could have a concussion, though, and he needed to see if he was awake.

“Harry,” he said. The boy remained still. He gently set Harry back on the floor and pulled out his wand. He carefully levitated Harry back into his room and onto his bed, where he placed a fresh towel on Harry’s head. The blood flow seemed to be slowing down, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

He Summoned the strong healing potion he’d used on Harry’s wrists to use on his head. He carefully poured the potion onto the cut, which immediately sealed the cut and stopped the blood. Snape vanished the towels he’d had and cast a spell to let him know when Harry was awake, then went to his room to go to bed.

He suddenly remembered about the potion he had made and decided that he would have to test it the next day. He didn’t want to risk trying it on Harry first. Who knows, it might make his nightmares worse.

*********

Snape woke up the next morning with a quiet buzzing sound in his head. Harry’s awake, he thought as he got dressed in his usual black robes. He went to Harry’s room and opened the door. He found Harry standing in the middle of the room with an odd expression on his face.

“Harry, you shouldn’t be out of bed right now. You could have a concussion. In fact, you probably do. You hit your head pretty hard judging by the cut on your head,” said Snape. Harry didn’t move.

He merely stared at Snape for a moment before opening his mouth and asking, “Who are you?” Did Harry think this would be an amusing joke?

“This is not the time for jokes,’ said Snape.

“I’m not joking. Who are you?” replied Harry.

“You know perfectly well that I’m Pro...your father.” He didn’t know what had made him replace Professor Snape with father, but he was starting to feel uneasy. Something wasn’t right about this.

“Harry, what happened to you last night?” asked Snape. Harry stared blankly at him and slowly shook his head.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Harry. Uh-oh. This was not good. Snape pulled his wand out of his pocket and put it behind his back.

“Leglimens,” he muttered under his breath. The only memories he saw were those that he had just lived. Waking up and then him with Snape. He put his wand away. Harry narrowed his eyes and looked suspiciously at Snape.

“What the hell did you just do?” asked Harry.

“I was merely seeing if you were telling the truth,” said Snape.

“Now you believe me?” asked Harry.

“Yes,” said Snape.

“Good. Now can you please explain what is going on here?” asked Harry. Oh Merlin this was going to be difficult. He was going to have to get Madam Pomfrey for this.

“I’ll explain in a bit. Right now I want to get a Medi-witch to examine you,” said Snape. He went to his office and Floo-ed Madam Pomfrey. She came promptly with a bag that looked like it contained potions.

On the way to Harry’s room, Snape quickly explained what had happened to Harry. She quickly checked over Harry, then went back into the hallway to talk to Snape.

“He does have a concussion. You will need to watch him for signs of severe headache, dizziness, or excessive tiredness. As for the amnesia, I believe hitting his head on numerous occasions is the reason. His memory should come back down, amnesia from a concussion is usually temporary. But let me warn you, Severus. Any more severe blows to the head could result in brain damage, a coma, or even death. Remember what I said about keeping a close watch on him,” she said before Floo-ing back to Hogwarts. Snape returned to Harry’s room to find him seated on his bed, turning something over and over in his hands.

“Harry?” He didn’t look up. Snape gently touched Harry’s shoulder, causing him to look up at Snape. “Your name is Harry,” said Snape. Harry nodded, then turned his attention back to his hands. Snape could see know that Harry held the mirror that Lupin had repaired for him.

“I know I remember this from somewhere,” said Harry quietly.

“It’s a two-way mirror. I have one just like I. Just say my name into the mirror and I’ll appear in yours and you’ll appear in mine,” said Snape.

“How does it work?” asked Harry, holding the mirror up to his face and studying it closely.

“Magic, Harry,” said Snape.

“Really?” asked Harry, sounding as though he’d just learned that Father Christmas really was real. Great, Harry had forgotten about magic. Harry would not be leaving the house again until he got his memory back. He would not be safe until he remembered. Hopefully he would have his memory back before his birthday. Snape knew what was going to happen then.

The blood magic Lily had performed would start to wear off, and James’ features would change to his. Adding that to memory………… When Harry got his memory back, who knew how he was going to react. Snape hoped it wouldn’t destroy all the progress he had made with Harry.

“Yes Harry, magic,” said Snape as patiently as he could.

******

During the next two weeks, Snape enduringly tried to get Harry to remember his life. The night before Harry’s birthday, Snape was feeling particularly frustrated. He was starting to think that Harry was never going to get his memory back. Harry had complete faith in him and was even calling him dad.

Every time he heard Harry say that, it grated on his nerves. Not that he didn’t want to be considered Harry’s father, but that one inconsequential word reminded him that Harry had no memory. He couldn’t remember how much he had hated Hogwarts’ Potions Master, couldn’t recall the number of times that Snape had called him arrogant and spoiled, when in reality he was far from loved by his former…..guardians. That’s why he loathed hearing the word dad.

If Harry were to use the word with full knowledge of five years of enmity between them, then he wouldn’t mind the use of the word, but not like this. This was just wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to set Harry down and tell him the truth. That’s why every day for the past two weeks he had acted as though they had always been a family, as if Harry had always doted on his like a young puppy.

If Harry hadn’t regained his memory by the start of term, he didn’t know what they were going to do. He couldn’t send him back to Hogwarts with no memory, especially looking like the hated Potions Master. His little Gryffindor friends would freak out.

He sighed and checked his watch. Ten o’ clock. Time for bed. He put away the lesson plans he was working on and blew out the candles. He closed the door to his office behind him and headed to his room.

As he passed Harry’s room, he said, “Good night Harry,” and heard the answer of, “Night dad.” He sighed again and went to bed.

Snape was awoken later that night by Harry screaming. He wondered if Harry was having a vision as he jumped out of bed and sprinted to Harry’s room. It did not appear as though Harry was having a vision. He wasn’t rubbing at his scar. Instead, he was clawing viciously at himself. He looked to in pain. Snape checked his watch and found that it was a little past midnight. The changes, he thought with horror. Lily hadn’t said that they would be painful, but apparently they were.

Snape darted across the room and grabbed his son, holding his arms tightly to keep him from hurting himself. Harry fought to get away, but Snape’s grip was too strong for him. Snape didn’t know how long he held onto Harry, but what seemed like hours later Harry calmed down and lay whimpering in his arms.

Suddenly Harry tensed up and pulled away from Snape. He got out of bed and stayed on the opposite side, keeping the bed between them.

Snape finally saw Harry’s face clearly and saw that his features had changed slightly. He couldn’t identify exactly what was different, but he could tell that Harry looked……well, less James Potter-ish.

“Are you okay?” asked Harry. Harry narrowed his eyes and glared at Snape.

“What the hell did you think you were doing, you conniving bastard?” yelled Harry. What the hell was Harry talking about?

“What are you talking about, Harry?” asked Snape.

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” hissed Harry.

“I lose my memory and you just happen to omit certain details about my life to me. You and your ‘I just want to help you get better, Harry’ bullshit. You had not right to do that to me. I had a right to know. Maybe then I wouldn’t have spent two weeks following you around and calling you dad.” Ouch, that stung. Quite the contrast to the happy Harry he’d had for the past two weeks.

“Get out of my room,” said Harry coldly.

“Harry…” started Snape.

“No, get out and leave me alone,” said Harry. Snape knew he should leave, if only to avoid provoking Harry any more.

“If you need it, there’s some Sleeping Potion on the table,” said Snape, retreating to the doorway. Harry only glared more fiercely at him, so he closed the door behind him and headed back to his own room.

~Harry’s POV~

Harry sat down heavily on the floor beside his bed. He leaned against the bed and clenched his eyes and his fists, feeling his nails bite into the soft flesh of his palms.

When he calmed down slightly, he saw that he has little half-moon shapes indented on his palms. They stung slightly, but Harry didn’t mind. It was nothing compared to the humiliation he’d had by Snape.

That snarky bastard let him act like an idiot for two weeks! Letting him call Snape dad? He must have really gotten a kick out of that. He had a strange desire to hit something, particularly Snape, but that would make too much noise and then the asshole would be back in there annoying him.

He clenched his fists again, wishing that he could hurt something, anything, just to get his mind off Snape betraying his trust. That day, two weeks before, he had thought that he could trust Snape. He had been wrong.