Disclaimer: If I owned it, why would I waste my time with FAN fiction??

A/N: Chapter Two's title comes from Cascada, another one of my favorites!!

Day off from school (gotta love Good Friday), so I figured what the hell, I'll upload another chapter!

And I dedicate this chapter to my first two reviewers- breannatala and Murgy31!! Thanks for reviewing!


Chapter Two: What Hurts the Most

Harry got out of the infirmary several days later, but Snape had yet to grace the living with his exuberant personality. Harry, after seeing the man unconscious for so long, had found himself worrying over the man's physical health. It was strange enough, considering Snape had hated Harry just three weeks ago, when Harry had left school for summer holiday. He had made it a habit to watch the Potions master for signs of waking. Finally, eight days later, the man woke, and found Harry Potter at his bedside.

"Potter," Snape whispered, his voice cracking from days of nonuse. Harry jumped and looked up to meet the man's cold black eyes. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I- I was worried about you, sir," Harry said, suddenly taking interest in the tiled flooring. Before Snape could say or do anything, the boy rushed out of the infirmary.

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"Snape is awake, sir," Harry said as he entered the headmaster's office.

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling kindly. "Thank you for informing me." Harry nodded and trudged back down to his room, which the headmaster had taken upon himself to build into the school next to Snape's quarters. the old wizard chuckled and headed down to the infirmary.

"How are you feeling, Severus?" Dumbledore asked as he settled himself into a chair at the Potions master's bedside.

"Like I got ran over by a herd of thestrals," Snape said dryly, his voice improving. "Poppy has given me the correct potions." Dumbledore nodded.

"So, how is dear old Tom?" Dumbledore asked casually.

"He is planning an attack," Snape said. He twisted the sheet about in his hand subconsciously. "He would not give details, just that he wanted to hear what your plan is."

"You will have something for his next meeting, Severus," Dumbledore promised.

"What's with Potter?" Snape asked. "He was sitting in the chair you're occupying now and just watching me when I awoke."

"Mr. Potter has taken a liking to watching you," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

"What for? I hated the boy. Merlin, I still hate that boy, after what he did during Occlumency last year," Snape said, anger boiling up inside him. What nerve that boy had, to go into his Pensieve and view his memories. His memories!

"Severus, you do not hate the boy," Dumbledore said knowingly. "You sympathize with him. You know what that kind of childhood feels like."

"You knew!?" Snape shouted as he sat straight up despite his back's protests.

"Now, now, dear boy, calm yourself," Dumbledore said calmly. "Poppy informed me of Mr. Potter's home life just after your return from Voldemort. I dare say we cannot have him going back to the Dursleys' residence any time soon. At least we won't have to worry about the wards until next summer."

"Next summer the wards will fall," Snape said hoarsely, "if I remember correctly." Not that he cared about the boy or anything- in fact, he thought everyone cared about the boy a bit too much- but it was hard to forget anything about the bloody Boy-Who-Lived when he was the discussion topic of choice among most of Snape's coworkers, and the Order, as well.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said sadly, "as Harry is becoming of age next summer." The two stayed silent for a moment.

"Well, I suspect I must return to my duties," Dumbledore said solemnly, "as the Order has a meeting tonight to discuss rather obvious events." Snape nodded, and the old wizard left the infirmary.

"Poppy?" Snape called.

"What is it, Severus," Pomfrey said briskly as she plodded over toward his bed.

"Can I leave?" Snape asked.

"Good Gods, you are just as impatient as Potter!" Pomfrey exclaimed. "No, you cannot leave until I say so!" Snape growled and glared at the mediwitch. She hadn't changed a bit from the moment the black-haired wizard had stepped inside the castle as a first year. Snape sat back on his starch-white pillows.

"Fine," the Potions master said, pretending to be perfectly content with the present arrangements. Pomfrey nodded and left. Snape waited until he was sure the mediwitch was in her office, and he made his escape. As he hobbled down the hallway, he could hear the woman shriek, "SEVERUS!" Snape snickered to himself, cast a Disillusionment Charm, and continued down to his dungeons.

"Potter," Snape growled as he made his way into the corridor where his rooms were located. The boy jumped, as he had been sitting in the middle of the hallway. Harry looked around frantically for the source of the voice.

"Professor?" Harry asked weakly.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Snape grumbled wearily as he pointed his wand at himself. "Finite Incantatem." Suddenly, a battered-looking Professor Snape became visible to the teenager.

"Professor, Madame Pomfrey let you leave?" Harry asked in wonder.

"In a sense," Snape smirked. "She made a foolish mistake and left me unguarded. Why she thought I wouldn't run is a mystery to me." Snape sneered at the boy, then hobbled into his dungeons.

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At nine o'clock that evening, Harry decided he needed a Dreamless Sleep Draught. Maybe he'd be able to sleep then.

"Professor?" Harry asked hesitantly as he knocked on the door. Hearing no response, he wondered if the Potions master was all right, and he walked in slowly. What he saw made him gasp. Lying on the floor in a pool of blood was none other than Professor Snape himself.

Harry quickly pulled himself together as his mind raced. He used the Diagnostic Charm first- he'd learned it from Hermione after she'd used it on him several times. The man was unconscious, of that Harry was sure; the charm also told him the man was bleeding internally and his body was going into shock. He had a concussion from where he fell on the floor, and the back of his head was bleeding. Harry quickly used the Stasis Charm to maintain the man's condition.

The Gryffindor ran to the man's potion supply, and quickly decided on a few, knowing they wouldn't interact negatively. At the last second, he grabbed a couple other potions not generally used for healing, but Harry knew they would give the effect he wanted them to. After all, what good was reading the entire Potions textbook and personal experience if he wasn't going to put it to good use?

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"Potter," Snape croaked. Harry looked up, his face bright.

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, obvious relief in his eyes.

"What the hell happened?" Snape said, disoriented. He looked around. It looks like my quarters, he thought as he took in the green and silver Slytherin-colored décor, but what the hell is Potter doing here?

"What do you remember?" Harry asked carefully.

"I escaped from the infirmary earlier," Snape recalled. "Then I made my way down to my quarters. I sneered at you. I went into my rooms. I sat at my desk…"

"I'm not sure exactly what happened after you entered your rooms," Harry said quietly, "but I came looking for a Dreamless Sleep Draught and found you passed out on the floor covered in blood."

"And why would I not be in the infirmary?" the black-haired man asked with an edge to his voice.

"I could call Madam Pomfrey down here, if you really would prefer to be up there, sir," Harry offered as he grabbed the Floo powder.

"No, no, it's quite alright," Snape said quickly. He looked around. "Potter, what are you doing in my quarters?"

"I've been healing you for the past six hours, sir," Harry said. Snape sat up in his bed and tested each of his extremities.

"What did you use on me, Potter?" Snape questioned crisply. Harry thought for a moment.

"Healing Draught, Pain Reducer, Blood Replenisher, Nutrition Potion, Dreamless Sleep Potion," Harry listed, ticking each one off on his fingers as he went, "Post-Cruciatus…"

"Why, Potter?" Snape said softly.

"Why what, sir?" Harry asked, confusion written all over his face. He gripped a vial of Dreamless Sleep Draught tightly.

"Why did you heal me? Clearly I hate you, and I'm sure the feeling is mutual," Snape said.

"You saved me, I saved you," Harry said with a shrug. "Now we're even." Snape closed his eyes and mentally rolled his eyes. So…Gryffindor of the boy.

"Here, get some sleep," Harry coaxed as he handed his teacher a vial of Dreamless Sleep Potion. "You need your rest."

"I feel fine, Potter," Snape growled. Harry stared at the man defiantly. Finally, Snape growled in defeat and accepted the vial.

"You can get up as soon as you wake, Professor, I promise," Harry reassured him. Snape growled and downed the vial. He barely had time to place the vial on his bedside table before he fell asleep.

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Soon enough, the Potions master was back to his grouchy and dismal old self that everyone knew and loved within a couple of days, and Harry was no longer needed in the man's quarters, as he was blatantly told.

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"Severus, the boy who was in here taking care of you. Who is he?" the man in the portrait asked. The woman held onto the man's arm and looked at the Potions professor.

"That," Snape said anticlimactically, "is Harry Potter."

The woman gasped, and the man looked at Snape in utter shock.

"That…that's him?!" the woman exclaimed.

"Indeed," Snape said dryly.

"He's so thin," the man commented.

"No! Really?" Snape snorted in mock-awe. "Should have seen him when I collected him from his relatives. Those god-be-damned Muggles found pleasure in beating, starving, and enslaving him."

"Who did Harry stay with, Severus?" the woman asked fearfully.

"Dumbledore mentioned the name…Dursley, was it?" Snape said carefully. He knew the woman was a portrait, not live and in person, but he was still wary of her.

"DUMBLEDORE LEFT HIM WITH THEM?!" the woman shrieked. "THEY ARE THE MOST ANTI-MAGIC MUGGLES I HAVE EVER HAD THE DISPLEASURE TO MEET IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!"

"Shhh, it's okay," the man said comfortingly.

"Don't you 'It's okay' me!" the woman said shrilly. "It's a wonder they didn't murder the boy!"

"Whatever you may think," Snape said smoothly, "they are the only relatives Potter has left." The man and the woman glanced at each other for a brief moment.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm missing something," Snape said as he sipped his dark red wine. He could feel a massive headache coming on. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Because you are," the man said matter-of-factly. "All in good time, Severus, all in good time."

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"Potter," the black-haired man called as he banged on the boy's door. Harry didn't open the door.

"So help me Merlin, Potter, if you do not open this door this instant I will kick it in!" Snape yelled, annoyed. What the hell was so important that the boy couldn't even be bothered to reply?

"POTTER!" Snape roared as he magicked the door open.

Lying on the bed was Harry, writhing and screaming in agony. If the Potions master didn't know better, he would've thought the boy was under the Cruciatus Curse. Snape held Harry down firmly, so the boy wouldn't hurt himself, and he called to the boy, trying to bring him back from the clutches of whatever demon had him tightly in its grasp.

"Potter," Snape called. The boy continued to scream.

"Harry!" Snape tried. He shook the boy a bit. After several minutes, the boy's breathing regulated, and he regained consciousness. Snape released his hold on the boy and stepped back from the large bed.

"Hello, Professor," Harry smiled weakly.

"Care to explain what happened?" Snape said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I…I had a vision," Harry mumbled. He gazed out the window, which showed the Quidditch pitch. It was obviously a magicked window, as the Quidditch pitch was on the other side of the building, and the dungeons were below ground.

"Excuse me?" Snape said, arching an eyebrow.

"Do- do you have any Post-Cruciatus, Professor?" Harry asked as he began to shake.

"Vision, Harry?" the headmaster asked sympathetically from the doorway. Snape glanced in the older wizard's direction momentarily, then back at the teenager.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied grimly.

"Vision?" Snape questioned.

"Harry is connected to Tom's mind through his scar," Dumbledore explained. "Whenever Tom is particularly angry or happy, Harry becomes submerged in a vision. Whenever Tom curses anyone, Harry feels the curse, as well."

"And why couldn't you tell me this when I was instructing him in Occlumency?!" Snape shouted, slamming one fist on Harry's bedside table. "Do you know how many times that boy has been subjected to the most painful of the Unforgivables?!"

"Please don't shout," Harry whispered as he cowered on the bed. Dumbledore and Snape both looked at Harry. Harry looked like he was about to go into a nervous breakdown, all curled up on his Gryffindor bedding.

"I apologize," Snape said awkwardly. "I'd forgotten your less than pleasant stay with your relatives for a mere moment, and my temper got carried away." Harry shrugged.

"Anything of interest?" Dumbledore asked. "Severus, would you mind getting a vial of the Post-Cruciatus Potion terribly?"

"Of course not, Headmaster," Snape said coolly. He left and returned quickly, pressing an uncorked vial into the boy's hand.

"Thanks," Harry said as he drained the vial's contents. He shuddered against the potion's terrible taste, but it was nothing he wasn't used to. He'd taken the potion countless times, more than any witch or wizard should ever have to.

"Anything special, Harry?" Dumbledore repeated.

"Sorry. Yes, he told Bellatrix and Wormtail he has formulated his plan," Harry said, the shaking diminishing slowly. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to control the anger he felt towards Wormtail.

"Potter, are you alright?" Snape said. If Harry hadn't known better, he might've thought the Potions master had been almost concerned for him.

"I'm fine, sir," Harry replied after a moment. "I'm not very fond of Wormtail."

"No one is," Snape muttered darkly.

"Did he mention any specifics about this plan?" Dumbledore asked.

"An attack on Diagon Alley," Harry answered. "The first Saturday of October."

"That gives us little more than three months," Dumbledore said as he glanced at Snape. "Severus, did he tell you of this plan?"

"No," Snape said. "At least, not yet. He does not like to tell his plans until they are ready to be put into action."

"If he does not tell you at all, we may have an advantage," Dumbledore said.

"Yeah, because Voldemort said something about the traitor being murdered during the attack," Harry remembered. "When you were there, sir."

"Idle threats," Snape said, waving a hand carelessly. "He thinks he has traitors all the time. He kills innocent-- well, not innocent Death Eaters, but loyal Death Eaters."

"But what if he decides that you are this week's traitor?" Harry countered. "I mean, granted, you're not my favorite professor, but it would be a shame to see you die." Harry rubbed the back of his right hand absently as Snape scowled at him and Dumbledore chuckled.

"The boy makes a point, Severus," Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "If Tom does not tell you, that means someone else is the spy. He wouldn't suspect you." Snape sneered at the teenager, but considered his point.

"You may be right," Snape admitted grudgingly. "How is it, Potter, that you can be so pig-headedly Gryffindor at times, and yet so peculiarly Slytherin at others?" He took a sip from his glass of water.

"The Sorting Hat wanted me in Slytherin," Harry volunteered. Snape sprayed the mouthful of water everywhere.

"I beg your pardon?!" he spluttered. Dumbledore smiled in amusement.

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "It wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I'd met Malfoy already. He was so sure he was going to be a Slytherin, and I didn't want to be with him. And Hagrid had already told me Voldemort" --Harry looked at Snape in surprise, as he hadn't flinched at the mention of the psychopath's name-- "was in Slytherin. So, I told it not Slytherin."

"Amazing," Snape smirked. "Thank you for judging my House based on its least impressive members."

"You're welcome," Harry replied.

A/N: So Snape's okay! Yay! And Harry begins to show a talent for potions!! And who are those people in the portrait? Read and Review!!

How am I doing with the characters? I think they're a bit OOC, and I've spent almost four days trying to fix it, but I'm not sure if it works. Also, am I doing the talking heads thing? (People doing nothing but talking) I try to avoid it as much as possible by putting in some sort of actions, but I'm not really sure. Tell me what you think!

Oh, and just so you know, the next couple of chapters are going to be really touch-and-go. They're proving very difficult to write, and I'm not finding much inspiration to keep going with them. Just bear with me, I am trying to get it done! I don't plan on abandoning this!

I need a Beta if anyone is interested!