A/n: Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, faved, and followed. I appreciate it so much! Also, the goal for this story is going to be around 11 - 16 chapters - might be more, but won't be less.

Chapter Two

"I thought you were going to stand outside all day, Potter." Snape stood there, a familiar sneer on his lips. His voice had his usual drawl, filled with distaste for the person in front of him – Harry himself.

"You knew I was here?" Harry knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that it was a stupid question.

Snape scoffed as if the idea that he hadn't known was ludicrous. "Of course, I knew, you imbecile," he told him. "You think I wouldn't notice someone walking up to my door and pacing there for fifteen minutes, especially you? Now, why are you here, Potter?"

It was clear that Snape was not going to move until Harry spoke, and he hadn't expected anything more. "I need your help." He put his hand out to stop the door from moving before the other man had a chance to close it. "Please, just listen. I need a sleeping potion, something strong. I've tried everything, and they don't work anymore."

It was clear that Snape still didn't care. "I have a shop. This is no reason to bother me." His tone was cutting, but that was nothing new to Harry.

He kept his hand where it was, and he knew that if the older man wanted to overpower him and close the door anyway, he could most likely do so. He would need to hurry. "I've tried going in your shop, but I need something else," he told him. "I tried asking for 'the master,' assuming it was you, but your shop worker wouldn't let me."

"Of course not, there's a reason why I am anonymous. Now, if you don't mind –"

"Please, I know you have something else that I can use, maybe something you use for yourself," he told him. "I'll pay you for it in full. I'll pay you more. I'm desperate. Come on, I'm practically begging here."

Snape just stood there, seeming to be thinking it over. After a few moments, he stood aside, gesturing up the stairs to his right. Harry nodded. "Thank you." With that, he walked past his former professor and up the stairs as indicated.

When he reached the stop of the stairs, he found himself in Snape's rooms. The room was stark, only having what was needed. There was a fireplace with a couple of chairs in front of it and a small table in between them. There was a couch nearby with a table in front of it. There were a few bookcases lining the walls and a desk in the corner. Past that he could see the kitchen, which also seemed to have a small round dining room table with a couple of chairs. He saw a small hallway off to the right past that, assuming that was probably where the bedroom was.

"Sit down," Snape ordered. Since he was doing him a favor, Harry did as we were told and took a seat on the couch. Snape walked towards where his bedroom was presumably located. "So, why does the great Harry Potter require one of my sleeping potions?" Sarcasm and disdain dripped from his voice as he spoke. "Too many adoring fans that you feel the need to knock yourself out?" The word 'adoring' was said as if it was something horrible and dirty.

It took all of Harry's self-control not to snap at him, but the man was doing him a favor. If he pissed him off, he was likely to hex him before throwing him out on his arse. He even fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that Snape could probably sense stuff like that, and he really didn't want to piss him off. "It's just… well, I need them." He was surprised at how weak his voice sounded. Regardless, he did not want to admit to Snape the reason why he truly needed it.

Snape came back a few moments later, a small blue vial in his hand. He walked straight towards him and held it out for him to see. "You just need it?" It was obvious that he thought that was probably the most stupid thing he ever heard.

Harry had no idea why Snape wanted to know, but most likely he just couldn't fathom why "the Boy-Who-Lived" would need something like this. Then again, it seemed as if he was giving him something that he didn't sell, so in a way, it almost made sense for him to ask. It wasn't as if he was ever nice about anything, ever. Once more, Harry fought the urge to snap at him and roll his eyes. "I have nightmares, okay?" He felt kind of defeated now, but wouldn't let Snape know that.

That seemed to be enough of an answer for Snape. "This is a very strong, very potent sleeping potion. I designed it myself for my own, personal use. It can only be taken in small doses, and one can easily overdose on it. You take two or three drops every two or three days, no more no less. If sleeping potions are becoming ineffective, you are probably becoming addicted, so you should wean yourself off. This means you should start off with two or three drops every two or three days and then slowly lower the dosage. You should be going down to one or two days a week, one day a week, every other week, et cetera… You should reduce the dosage of the drops as well. Take it in your nighttime drink, but don't mix with alcohol."

Snape said the whole thing very quickly, and it almost gave Harry whiplash. Snape's words about possibly becoming addicted echoed his mind for a brief moment before he forced them out. He then set the vial on the table before going over to the desk. He wrote on two pieces of parchment before bringing them both over. One was small and looked torn. He rolled it up and attached it to the bottle. He assumed that was the directions. The other he handed to Harry. "Is that satisfactory?"

Harry looked over it. It was the list of ingredients with a note for labor. Ah, this is what it cost him to make it, he thought to himself. He was pretty sure that the older wizard was over exaggerating on the prices, but he truly was desperate. If it is what it cost, he was more than happy to pay it. He took a tiny bag out of his pocket and then grabbed his wand, enlarging it. He dumped out some Galleons on the table, leaving only a few in the bag. He shrunk the bag and put it back in his pocket. "That should be it."

Snape counted, and then nodded, sliding the bottle across the table towards him. "Our business is done, Potter. Now I suggest you leave whence you came."

Harry took that as his cue to leave and stood up, nodding. He walked towards the stairs, and then hesitated before turning back. "Thank you. Honestly." He then left, walking down the stairs and out the door before Apparating to an alley outside of his flat.

Harry took the trek up to the fourth floor, before turning down a hallway. He found his flat and entered it. Taking a deep breath, he walked straight back towards his bedroom. He took off his jeans, making sure to take out his wand and the tiny bag of galleons he'd gotten for Snape. He undid the spell on the bag, putting it in the drawer. He set his wand on top of the table near his bed. The vial Snape had given him, he'd been holding the whole time.

Harry unrolled the parchment attached to it and saw – almost word for word – the directions that Snape had told him earlier in the man's familiar scrawl. He set it on the table, putting the vial on top. Deciding he had no more reason to stay up, he figured he should take it in case the symptoms were delayed. He went and made himself a cup of tea, and then walked into his bedroom, putting three drops in just as directed. He went out to watch some television before going to bed. As soon as the tea was finished, he could feel himself getting drowsy.

Damn, Snape wasn't kidding. This stuff is strong, Harry thought. He went to get ready for bed, and as soon as he lay down, sleep quickly overtook him. He awoke the next morning feeling quite rested. "It worked I guess," he told himself. After all, he had not had any nightmares last night. "Thanks, Snape," he said to no one in particular.

That night, Harry didn't take the Potion as Snape had told him not to. The man's instructions had been simple – every two or three days. Unfortunately, the nightmares returned since he was not under the influence of the potion, and he didn't sleep much. It left him in a bad mood all day; he was glad that no one decided to visit him that day, as he was not in the mood for company.

Harry took the potion that night because that was every two days, wasn't it? It was safe, right? The nightmares disappeared. The morning after, he felt better now that he'd gotten a good night's sleep. It was then that he found himself wondering why Snape would need something this strong. After all, nothing else worked anymore for him. Of course, that was a stupid thing about which to wonder.

Snape had been through more than most people, and it was only natural that some nights he would have nightmares. It was a bit weird to think of him having nightmares for some reason, and he wasn't sure why. That was the only explanation for him to have such a strong sleeping potion. It made him wonder how often they happened. It could also explain why he asked why Harry needed it, and why he didn't argue once Harry admitted the reason why. Then again, he might be overthinking things. It had been a business transaction, after all.

Harry followed Snape's instructions for the next week, but it became harder and harder for him to go from having a good night's sleeping to waking up screaming. Something had to be done, so he started taking it a bit more – just a little. It worked. "Snape must have been exaggerating," he told himself aloud one day.

Harry still didn't take it every day, because that was dangerous, but he didn't wean himself off as he had been instructed to do, either. He figured it had been a suggestion only, and since this was something that he needed, he disregarded it. He didn't give a second thought to Snape's comment about becoming addicted. It just didn't seem realistic to him at all.

After an unusually bad night, Harry woke up sweating. He was almost afraid to go to sleep that night. He was just so sick of nightmares. He looked over and realized that the potion was nearly gone. Had he only been given so little of it? Or it had really been that long since he'd gotten it? It had to be, what, a month? There should be more.

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry just downed the rest of it without a second thought of how many drops were left or the fact that he wasn't taking it in anything like Snape had instructed. An extremely deep and dark sleep overtook him almost instantly, and when morning came, he did not wake up.

~*o*x*o*x*o*x*o*x~

The next morning was a Saturday, and Ron and Harry had plans. To be honest, the redhead was very excited. He and Harry didn't see each other as much as they usually did, but that wasn't the reason why he was so anxious. Ron was planning on proposing to Hermione, and he wanted Harry's opinion on a ring he had spotted before he actually bought it. He knew his girlfriend wasn't in a hurry to get married, but the timing felt right. They were living together; they were in love. Sure, things weren't perfect, but nothing ever was. The important thing was that they were perfect for each other.

Ron made his way up to his best friend's flat and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he knocked louder. Again, there was no response, so this time, he practically slammed on the door. "Harry, mate," he yelled. "Open up! Are you asleep?"

One of Harry's neighbors poked his head out of his front door to say, "Either he isn't home or doesn't want to see you," before slamming the door as he went back inside.

Ron just rolled his eyes. He looked up and down the hallway, making sure it was deserted, before taking his wand muttering "Alohomora." The door opened. He went inside, locking the door behind him. "Harry, what gives?" Again, there was no answer. Is he seriously still asleep? Walking towards Harry's bedroom, he opened the door to see his best friend, still unconscious.

Checking his watch, Ron saw that it was noon, and Harry said he had been going to bed early lately though he didn't say why. Shaking his head, he walked over and shoved him on the shoulder. "Harry, get up, we have things to do." There was no response. The body on the bed lay still, so Ron shook him again, but harder this time. "Hey, wake up, mate!" Again, no response. It was then that he started to notice him having tremors.

Ron thought it was strange, a little too strange. Harry didn't sleep this soundly. In fact, he slept a little too lightly. That started to worry him, and the tremors worried him even more. He shook him again, and when that didn't work, he poured some water on him. That didn't work, and now he was anxious. He checked Harry's breathing and his pulse. His pulse was a bit slow, and his breathing was shallow and labored.

Ron's worry went from slight to extreme almost instantly. He was about to take Harry out of there when he spotted something on the bedside table. He grabbed Harry's wand, but that wasn't what had caught his eye. Next to that was a potions vial sitting atop a note. He hadn't been in Harry's room lately because he had no reason to be in here on the occasions he did visit Harry. The vial itself was empty, but the note had writing on it, which seemed to be instructions on taking whatever had been in the vial. It said something about a few drops every two or three days and then to wean off it.

Ron recognized the handwriting, too, because he had seen it for six years at Hogwarts. The handwriting belonged to Snape.

Grabbing the vial and the note, as well Harry's wand, Ron put a spell to make him lighter before taking him to the fireplace and Flooing them both straight into the Hogwarts Infirmary. They gave Madam Pomfrey quite a fright, but she recovered quickly. "Mr. Weasley, what in Merlin's name are you –" It was then that she spotted Harry, attached to Ron at the moment and quite unconscious. "Here, this bed. Quickly. Now." Ron did as he was told, and removed the spell he'd put on him. "What happened?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. I found him like this at his flat," he explained. "He's completely unresponsive, shallow breathing, slow pulse… and I found this." He showed her the note and vial, starting to feel angrier and angrier with Snape as time went on. "And I recognize the handwriting."

Pomfrey took the note, looking it over before waving her wand over Harry's unconscious body. "It might just be a sleeping potion of some sort," she said. "That would explain why he didn't wake. Has he taken them before?" Ron nodded. "We need to know what this was and what was in it. It might be something of his own creation. It seems to be an overdose."

Ron nodded again and knew what to do. Hermione had mentioned her theory of where Snape was, and if she was right, he knew right where to find him. "I'll handle it. I know what to do." He went to the Floo and called Hermione first. His girlfriend – and hopefully soon-to-be fiancée – looked worried. She had known he had plans with Harry today.

"Ron, what's wrong? I thought -" Hermione started to say.

"Something's wrong with Harry," Ron interrupted quickly. "Pomfrey thinks he might have overdosed on some sort of sleeping potion. Come here now."

Ron hadn't needed to tell her where, and within a moment, she had walked out of the fireplace. "Ron, what happened? Is he okay? What's –"

Ron silenced her quickly. "I found him unconscious and unresponsive, and he's having tremors," he explained. "He seems to have taken a potion of Snape's." He grabbed the note from Pomfrey and showed it to her. "I'm going to go and talk to him now and demand he tell us what it was. Pomfrey thinks it might have been something of his own creation." He gave his worried girlfriend a kiss before Flooing out to the Leaky Cauldron.

Ron made his way down Diagon Alley and found the shop – The Master's Shop. If Hermione was right, and she was rarely wrong, this was Snape's place. He went around back to where the door to his personal rooms would be and began to slam on the door. He almost thought about busting it open but figured that if it was Snape, he was more likely to hex him first and ask questions later.

It took a few minutes but finally, the door opened, and there stood Snape. By now, Ron was absolutely fuming and worried sick about his best friend. Snape was equally furious at being disturbed, but the redhead didn't let him get a word out. "What did you give him?"

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Weasley?" Snape said, his voice cutting and sharp.

"Harry. You gave him something. I saw the note, and I think I know your handwriting by now," Ron responded. He held up the vial. "The note went with this. I found him unconscious and completely unresponsive, and Pomfrey said he overdosed on some kind of sleeping potion, most likely one of your own creation. What did you give him?"

Snape swore and ran back inside returning a quick moment later. He was yelling nearly incoherently about an insolent imbecile not following directions. He seemed angrier than he'd seen him in a long time, but Ron didn't care. It appeared as though Snape was coming with him.