Warnings: Discussion of torture, memories of severe child abuse. Not graphic, but what's implied is horrible.

Notes: *AN: I've used [this format] to indicate mental communication or Parseltongue. Thoughts not intended to transfer get italicized 'single quotes,' but be aware that Harry can pick them up sometimes too. If it's Harry's POV and he overhears it, whether the person meant him to or not, it will be in [brackets]. His own personal thoughts are in 'single quotes.'*

Spell Notes:

Calefacius Modera: "Warm moderately," JK-ified translation. Mid-level warming charm.

Obice Silentium: "Barrier of Silence." Silencing spell that blocks sound IN. People outside the range of the charm will not be able to hear what is said within its barriers.

CHAPTER 10

Shattered Perceptions

Albus placed a bite of sausage in his mouth and fixed his gaze on the Gryffindor table, a pit of worry building in his gut. Harry had yet to show for breakfast, and the sixth year Gryffindors all had their heads together, whispering about something or another. By the sharp tone of Hermione Granger's hisses and Neville Longbottom's irritated glares, he had a fair idea what—or whom—they were discussing.

He sighed and sipped his juice. Merlin, poor Harry. The boy couldn't go one day without some catastrophe falling onto his head.

Well, perhaps with Severus' grudge nipped in the bud, things would start to improve for him soon. Albus certainly hoped so anyway.

"Albus," Minerva murmured, "where is Severus this morning? And yesterday?"

He shook his head. "I will let the school know all at once shortly."

Minerva paled. "Dear gods. What has happened?"

"Much, to be sure." He poked at his remaining sausage, but much as he might want to indulge in another, he hadn't the time. "And perhaps now is a good time to announce it." He pushed his plate back, but before he could stand, a sharp pop beside his chair startled him.

"Master Dumbles, sir! You must come!"

Albus turned to find a panicking Dobby standing at his side, hand outstretched. "Dobby? Is something the matter with Severus?"

Minerva and Filius fixed their eyes on him.

"Yes, Master Dumbles. Great Master Harry Potter is catching a Death Eater in your office, sir!"

"What?"

At Minerva's startled cry, the students turned to stare at the head table as one. Albus patted Minerva's shoulder. "I need you to take over for me while I sort this out. Will you let them know Potions classes are cancelled until further notice?"

Minerva glared. "Albus Dumbledore, I expect an explanation!"

Filius cleared his throat. "Perhaps it could wait until after the Death Eater has been dealt with, Minerva?"

She blushed. "Merlin. O-of course. I'll handle it, Albus."

"Thank you." Albus motioned to Dobby. "Let me lead us away from the students first, Dobby." He hurried out of the Great Hall with the elf in tow, leaving a stunned student body and several shocked professors behind.

Fawkes shivered against Harry's chest. He petted the little bird and cupped his hand closer, but it didn't seem to be enough. Perhaps his body just wasn't warm enough for a firebird.

A quick scan of the office revealed a plush red cushion near Fawkes' perch. Maybe Dumbledore used it for burning days. At any rate, he could cast a warming charm on it to keep Fawkes alive long enough for Dumbledore to come and help.

"Accio pillow. Calefacius Modera." He settled the hot pillow on the desk, well away from the box, and set the little phoenix in the middle. "There now. Is that warm enough?"

Fawkes gave a little sigh and curled up to sleep. Harry could just stand the air around him enough to pet the bird, and he stroked his little head to comfort him and keep an eye on his body temperature. After a moment, Fawkes stopped shivering and fell asleep. Harry cast a silencing field around him so the rat's squeaking didn't wake the exhausted little bird.

"Poor little guy. Sure has had a rough morning." Harry slammed a fist against the box, earning a stream of high-pitched shrieks and squeals. "Your fault, you fucking piece of shite."

Phineas emerged from a shadow of his painting and smirked. "My, what a mouth we have." The man gave the mistletoe and fairy lights dangling above his portrait an ominous glare and settled into his chair. "Do you usually speak so crudely?"

Harry looked up, blushing. "Er, no. S-sorry about that, sir. You see, this… er… nasty little berk betrayed and killed my parents and also killed Fawkes this morning, and he was rooting around in Headmaster Dumbledore's quarters earlier. Merlin only knows what he thought he was after." There. If Pettigrew somehow got a report back to Voldemort, he would think Harry had caught him by chance and hadn't known Snape was there. He hoped anyway.

The man in the portrait winced and mouthed, "Severus?"

Harry gave him a grim nod. "He's okay."

The man relaxed and bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Are you al—"

Another portrait, a woman in a wimple cut Phineas off and gave Harry a simpering smile. "Oh, I know you. You're Harry Potter!"

Harry groaned. "Oh joy. You've heard of me."

"Oh, yes. We've all heard how brave and handsome and, well, do you think you could—just here—" She tittered and pointed to a corner of her canvas.

Harry glowered. "You're not serious."

But apparently she was. "Oh, just there. Come on. There's even a quill on the de—"

"I'm not signing an autograph for a bloody portrait! You've already got one!"

The woman sniffed and stuck her nose up in the air. "Well, I never." She huffed and stalked out of her portrait, not that Harry was sorry to see her go.

Phineas snorted. "My, my. Do you greet all your fans in such a manner?"

Harry scowled. "You try being famous for a week and see how much you like it. It gets old. Fast." He poked the box with his wand. "Especially when I didn't do anything to deserve it."

"The Boy-Who-Lived did nothing to deserve his fame?"

Harry glared and poked harder, earning a shower of sparks and a petrified squeak. "Mum made sure the Noseless Wonder died the first time. All I've done is run around blind and try to avoid the bastard, and I still somehow manage to get caught every single year like clockwork. It's everyone else making it out like I'm something special. I'm just trying not to die."

"You are going to transfigure that box by accident if you are not careful," Phineas said with a devious smirk.

Judging by the panicked squeal from inside the box, it had been intentional.

"Nice one, er—" Harry investigated the nameplate under the portrait. He couldn't call a former headmaster by his first name without permission. "—Headmaster Black. Wait, Black? You're—"

"Family, yes I know." Black sounded just as thrilled with the concept as Harry had about his fame. "When you are pureblooded, you are related to everyone."

Harry laughed wryly, but kept his thoughts to himself about how one found a wife when all the purebloods were related. Somehow, he doubted the portrait would appreciate it. And, for all he knew, the man might have been gay. Or single. He remembered Sirius pointing him out on the Black family tapestry—with extreme disdain—but couldn't remember anything else beyond the fact that he had had a brother who had died young with Sirius' name.

"I would like to ask you a question, Harry," said Phineas, jolting him out of his musing. "Why did you come here this morning?"

Harry frowned at the box. "I can't say anything in front of him."

"The spell is Obice Silentium. Imagine a barrier to prevent all sound around your head and my canvas, stretching between us and blocking everything beyond it out, and flick your wand like this when you cast." Headmaster Black moved his wand in a sharp sideways motion.

Harry gave the man a wan smile and neglected to inform him about his long-time affinity for silencing spells. He said the incantation aloud to prevent suspicion too.

"Obice Silentium!"

Cyan light enveloped his head and the portrait. It faded the next instant, but the magic still tingled where the barrier touched his skin, so Harry knew it had worked.

"Test it," Phineas said.

Harry didn't need to, but nonetheless, he snapped, "Oi, Pettigrew! I found this really handy spell to melt metal the other day. Reckon I should give it a go?" The level of terrified squeaking remained constant, but just in case the rat was acting, he aimed his wand through one of the air holes and stunned the bastard again.

"That works too," said an amused Headmaster Black.

Faint shimmers disrupted the silencing barrier on his left.

Harry frowned at the area he had felt a disturbance. "Um, is that normal?"

Black's eyes flicked to the door above the stairs. "Hmm. I think it is fine."

Harry looked to the staircase too and understood. Snape was eavesdropping, the sneaky bastard. With a shake of his head, he turned to Black and sighed. "Well, you wanted to know why I came this morning, right?"

"Indeed. I should think you would be glad to be shot of Severus, considering how he has treated you."

"I… it's… not quite that simple." He closed his eyes and turned his face away just in case Black was a Legilimens—and mind magic worked with portraits. He couldn't talk about the young Severus here. Snape would kill him.

"It had nothing to do with… our history." He hugged his waist and stared at the floor. "I mean, it's true Snape thinks I'm a carbon copy of my father—"

"A what copy?"

"Er… Muggle thing. It means an exact duplicate."

Black made a face of distaste. "Oh. Well, do go on then."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the portrait but decided not to comment. The man was a Black, after all. A certain level of disdain for Muggles was par for the course.

"Right, well, like I said, Professor Snape thinks I'm just like my father and he hates me for that. He'll probably think I saved him just so I can lord it over him later—or he might even have some other terrible idea in mind about me, like I did it to make him my slave or some other ridiculous nonsense. He really believes I'm that a-awful."

He jerked his hand across his stinging eyelids. He wouldn't cry. Not again.

With a deep breath, he continued in a soft, shaky voice. "So he'll probably h-hate me even more for saving him, but it doesn't matter. No matter how he feels about me, he's still a human being and he doesn't deserve to die." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Besides, I couldn't let one more person die because of me anyway. This whole damn war is already my fault."

Black frowned. "Hmm. Well, how did you save him? The curse Riddle used is, ah… highly specialised and—"

A loud pop sounded through the office, announcing the arrival of Dumbledore and Dobby, and spared Harry from answering. For the moment, at least.

"Thank you, Dobby," the headmaster said, and after his customary wailing and tears, Dobby apparated away.

Dumbledore rushed to Harry's side. "Harry, are you quite all right?"

"Finite Incantatem," Harry muttered, cancelling the silencing charm. "Yes, sir, but I've found an uninvited guest poking about. Some track record you're building here, hmm?"

Dumbledore sighed and settled behind his desk. "We shall discuss it once unfriendly ears are out of the room." He frowned at the pillow and his sleeping phoenix. "So that is how he got past Fawkes. My dear little friend, I am sorry." He placed another warming charm on the pillow and levitated it to a quiet space near the hearth. A moment later, a blazing fire made the little bird twitter happily and snuggle closer into his pillow.

"I already had a warming charm on that," said Harry with a wry look.

"Yes, I sensed it, but phoenixes need quite a bit of heat to survive when they are first hatched. Enough that the pillow requires a flame-repelling charm." Dumbledore poked the metal box with a frown. "Where did you get this?"

"Upstairs." Harry hoped Dumbledore would understand the insinuation without needing further detail.

Dumbledore rubbed his beard and cast a new silencing charm, this time including Harry, the portrait, and himself within the barrier. Snape broke into the charm again not two seconds after Dumbledore set it, but the old man didn't even blink. He had probably known the prat was listening in from the moment he arrived.

"Harry, will Pettigrew need to be Obliviated?"

"I don't think so. I stunned him before I said a word to Professor Snape and he didn't wake up again until I had him in the box and was back in your office."

"And you did not discuss anything sensitive with Headmaster Black while I was away?"

Harry shook his head. "Not where the rat could hear anyway. I used a silencing field, sir."

"Ah, good. In that case, I believe I will call Kingsley and hand our guest over to the aurors straight away. You should go on to class."

"No."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No, sir. I'm not going anywhere until something is done to keep your other guest from being murdered while I'm in class."

"Harry, I do understand your concern, but it is not your place t—"

Harry slammed his hands on the desk. "It is when you've almost gotten him killed twice in twelve hours and I've been the one to clean up your mess!"

Dumbledore flinched—a small thing, but enough to show Harry he had struck a nerve. "Perhaps you have a point, but I must in—"

"I agree with the boy, Albus," said Headmaster Black. "He has earned the right to this discussion. And you have proved your idea of 'safety measures' is not very safe at all."

Dumbledore frowned. "I… oh very well."

Black smirked.

Harry grinned at him. "You were a Slytherin, weren't you, sir?"

Black chuckled. "Indeed, but whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well, first, because you're a Black. Besides Sirius, you're all Slytherins. And second, only Slytherins enjoy getting one over on Headmaster Dumbledore that much."

'Slytherins and boy weapons,' Harry added to himself.

Phineas snorted. "Touché."

Dumbledore looked between them with a wry chuckle. "Seems the two of you have been conspiring in my absence." He sighed. "Harry, Severus will not be happy about this, you do know that?"

Harry scowled. "When is he happy when I'm involved? Unless it's torture or something."

"Harry, that is… well, perhaps that is neither entirely untrue nor undeserved, but it is disrespectful nonetheless."

Harry bowed his head. "I… yes, you're right. Sorry, sir."

"Thank you. Now, what do you propose, Harry?"

"Deal with the rat first, sir, in case he can hear something in spite of the barriers. I've heard my roommates arguing over them before."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. Then sit tight and we shall discuss Severus' situation in a moment."

Harry nodded and settled himself in to wait.

As it happened, it turned out to be a good thing Harry had refused to return to classes. Once Kingsley knew Harry had apprehended the rat, he had wanted to question Harry on how he had come to find him and what he had been doing in the headmaster's office in the first place.

"Well, you see," Harry said with a thin smile, "I came up here after my cloak. I left it in the office last night and I wanted to grab it before classes started. I was hoping I could catch Professor Dumbledore before he went to breakfast, but when I arrived, the door was ajar and the gargoyle looked upset. It put me on guard. Then I found Pettigrew poking around and the rest is history."

Headmaster Black gave Harry a piercing look. Harry ignored it.

"Well, that's all I need then," said Kingsley with a nod. "Good work, Harry. We'll be glad to have you on the squad one day."

Harry struggled not to flinch. "Oh. Y-yeah. That's… good."

Kingsley patted his shoulder. "Buck up. NEWTs are tough for everyone. I'm sure you'll do fine."

Harry forced himself to smile. "T-thanks."

Kingsley nodded and went through the floo, metal box and evil rat firmly in hand.

Dumbledore fixed Harry with a searching look. "Would you like to explain to me why you believed it necessary to lie to Kingsley, Harry?"

"Well, I was protecting Professor Snape, sir, but I didn't actually lie. Everything I said was the truth. Or part of it, anyway."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?"

Harry grinned. "Professor Snape, if you wouldn't mind, could you please open that door a tad?"

Dumbledore and Black both choked back a laugh.

Dumbledore's moustache twitched. "How long have you known he was listening?"

"Um, about half an hour or so, but I reckon he was probably listening before then too."

"Most likely." Dumbledore turned to call up the stairs. "You may as well come down and join us, Severus, if you are feeling well enough to participate in the conversations you eavesdrop upon."

Snape opened the door and grumbled, "Bloody impertinent Gryffindors."

Harry smirked and raised his wand. "Speaking of, sir, Accio Harry Potter's school cloak."

A bolt of black fabric came zooming over Snape's head and settled in Harry's lap, much to Snape's annoyance. "Potter! What is the point of saving my life twice if you attempt to kill me not an hour later?"

"It's just a cloak, sir." He held it up to show the others it was harmless. "Like I said, headmaster, I didn't lie to Kingsley. I had put this under Professor Snape last night to keep the wounds on his back clean while we treated him, and somehow it didn't get returned to me last night."

Snape shuddered as if coming into such close contact with Harry Potter's things would make him ill. Harry ignored it, and the rush of shame and anguish Snape's hatred caused.

Black snorted. "You're a rather Slytherin sort of Gryffindor, aren't you, Harry?"

Harry chuckled wryly. "Ask the sorting hat."

Snape shot the hat, nestled atop a bookshelf, a glare of death. "Do not dare suggest it."

The hat glared back.

Harry perched on the edge of his chair, biting his lip as he watched Snape's slow progress down the stairs. Gods, he could barely walk. If Harry didn't know full well Snape would throw him down the stairs for the mere suggestion, he would have offered to help, but as it was, all he could do was watch and hope Snape reached the bottom of the staircase in one piece.

He let slip a quiet sigh when Snape's feet landed on the lower level without trouble. He shuffled into the only other seat in Dumbledore's office—a purple chintz armchair adjacent to Harry's chair—and settled his arms over his chest with a grimace of pain and a huff.

"Whatever hare-brained suggestion Potter has concocted to ensure my safety," Snape grumbled, "I won't be taking it."

Bitter grief twisted Harry's heart, and he dropped his head to hide his flush of shame. 'Why did I even dare hope for anything else? I know better by now.' He stifled a sigh and stared into his lap. 'Don't think of it. Just don't think at all.'

Shame he hadn't learned how to Occlude yet.

"Now, now, Severus," said Dumbledore, his eyes full of warning. "You will at least listen to Harry without being cruel."

Snape scowled, but said nothing.

Nothing was good. Harry could deal with nothing. Snape's refusal to accept him after everything Harry had done and was about to do for him hurt, but he could live with the pain. It was nothing new, after all.

And yet, as Snape shifted in his chair, obviously suffering and unable to reach out, a pang of sympathy and loneliness stabbed Harry in the heart. He wanted Snape to accept him, even if he knew better than to hope for it. The image of the boy Snape once was would not leave his mind.

Harry closed his eyes and wished he knew how to move on, how to let go of impossible dreams.

Severus sat and pretended to be as snarly and angry as usual, but inside, he could hardly think for shock. Potter's words kept ringing in his head over and over.

"He's still a human being and he didn't deserve to die."

Worse, the broken whisper he had uttered afterwards—"I can't let one more person die because of me..."—had left a hollow in his chest. For sixteen years, some part of Severus had blamed Potter for his mother's death, but he had never realised the boy blamed himself for it too.

He might have thought Potter was lying, but the boy couldn't lie to save his hide. The only reason his excuses had flown when he acted to cover Severus' arse—and Merlin, why on earth had he done that?—was because he hadn't lied at all. When Shacklebolt had asked about the aurors, Potter's story crumbled.

But that knowledge called many more of Severus' core beliefs into question, and damn, he just wasn't ready to deal with it yet. Because if Potter was honest, then all of the stories Severus had believed to be lies were true. If Potter was honest, then all of the beliefs Severus had held so dear about the boy were lies.

Gods, he couldn't focus on this right now. His whole body hurt, and Potter was right about one thing: the Dark Lord hadn't given up on killing Severus yet and staying here was a security risk. Merlin, even he had never imagined Pettigrew could get into the Headmaster's office.

If Albus' quarters weren't safe, what place in Hogwarts was?

Albus Summoned a pot of tea and some biscuits. "Do help yourself, Severus. And, Harry, please try to eat something. Minerva expressed concern that she has not seen you eating since lunchtime yesterday."

Potter looked away. "I haven't been hungry, sir."

Severus stared at the boy, confused. How could a sixteen year old boy go so long and not notice his hunger? Boys were bottomless pits at that age.

Albus wasn't buying it either. "For an entire day, Harry?"

"Er, well, I mean there was a lot going on, and… I-I just haven't had much appetite."

Interesting. The first part was a lie—or an incomplete truth—but the second was true. He truly hadn't been hungry. Another idiosyncrasy to assign to this mystery of a boy.

"Oh, do cease your melodrama and eat a bloody biscuit, Potter. We will get nowhere until you do."

Potter gave him a bemused look, but took a biscuit and a cup of tea. Severus watched him eat it as they talked. He started out with slow nibbles, as if he really wasn't hungry, but it must have given him some appetite back. Before Severus had updated Dumbledore on half of what had happened during his torture, let alone the morning afterwards, Potter had downed four of the biscuits and a cup of tea, and was pouring a second.

"Perhaps you should ask that mad house elf to bring Potter a sandwich before he moves on to eating the saucer, Albus? I have heard porcelain shards do tend to be rough on the digestive system." Severus said it with enough malice that no one would believe him to be concerned.

But he was. Somewhere deep down, he was. And fuck all, what did that mean for him?

Potter froze and went ashen. His hands trembled on the teacup, his breathing accelerated, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Gods, Severus had terrified the boy. But how? What had he said? His tone had certainly been cold, but for Merlin's sake, he had been a hell of a lot crueller to Potter than that in the past. Nothing had garnered this kind of reaction before—well, except the day he had announced their Occlumency lessons, but then Potter had had some excuse for being upset. This was… he had no idea what was happening. Severus gave Albus a bemused look, but Albus looked just as lost.

"I'm fine." Potter set down his teacup and dragged his knees to his chest.

"Harry?" Albus laid a hand on the desk, reaching out towards the boy. "Is anything the matter?"

"I said, I'm fine!"

But Severus was no fool. The boy was panicking and trying hard to keep them from prodding him.

Severus looked to his mentor, opening his mind for the man to see. [Albus, I do not know what I said to terrify him like this, but it was not intentional.]

Albus nodded almost imperceptibly. [I know, my boy. I am trying to get a read on his emotional state, but he is blocking me.]

[Occluding?]

[I cannot tell. It seems more like a blind. As if he is intentionally bringing forth feelings and thoughts he would prefer me to see than the ones he does not want us to touch.]

Severus gaped. [But that is a high-level mind mage skill.]

[I am aware. Perhaps he is simply burying his worries. Or perhaps he is better at mind magic than your assessment would suggest.]

Severus didn't miss the implication that his bias had hindered Harry's progress. [Do you truly imagine I want to stay in lessons with him longer? If the boy could Occlude, by Merlin, I would run to your office to tell you.]

Albus' lips twitched. [You do make a good point. Hmm. It bears looking into. For now, let us get back to our discussion.]

[Indeed.]

"Harry," Albus said in a gentle voice, "it is quite all right if you would like to have some breakfast while we talk. It is unhealthy for growing boys to go so long without sustenance."

The look Potter shot Albus might have killed. Albus blinked and moved back, stunned.

"W-what did I say, Harry?"

"Nothing." Potter lowered his gaze and stared at the floor. "I'm fine. I'll go to lunch later. Can we just talk about the matter at hand now? Please?"

"Well, do at least have another biscuit and finish your tea."

Potter blanched and shook his head. "Can't eat anything else right now. Please, just move on."

Albus opened his mouth to protest, but Severus cut him off.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Albus. If the brat wants to starve himself, who are we to judge?"

Potter flinched as if struck and dropped his head onto his knees, but once again, Severus did not understand where he had gone wrong.

"I… what in Merlin's name is the matter with you, boy?"

"Don't!"

Severus gave Albus another gobsmacked look. [Albus, what the hell is going on?]

[I confess I am at a loss myself.]

Albus prodded, "Don't what, Harry?"

Potter made a strangled sound of frustration and dropped his knees. He grabbed a biscuit and shoved half of it in his mouth at once. "There. I'm eating now. Can we move on already?"

"I… I suppose." Albus gave the boy a troubled look. "You're sure yo—"

Black cleared his throat. "Albus."

The old man sighed and relented. "Very well. Harry, seeing as you have had quite the eventful past two days, if you would like to eat before lunch, you may simply ask Dobby to fetch you something before you return to classes."

Potter nodded, relief washing the tension from his frame. "Thank you, sir."

"Not at all. Now, Severus, you were saying?"

Severus continued his story, watching Potter out of the corner of his eye. The boy laid the other half of his biscuit down and did not touch the teacup, to Severus' consternation. He hadn't intended to petrify the boy, but somehow, he had done, and now he couldn't eat after almost a full day without a meal.

Obviously, the boy was just being melodramatic—there was no need to stop eating just because Severus' offhand remarks had startled him—but why had they bothered Potter at all? The boy had endured far worse without a flinch.

Something strange had just happened here, and Severus didn't like it. Perhaps he could get to the bottom of it during Occlumency lessons. He was sure, with some careful prodding, Potter would crack.

He would just have to take care that he did not break the boy in the process.

He poured himself a cup of tea as he talked and, out of the corner of his eye, caught Potter watching him. He used the opportunity to discreetly observe the boy's reactions. Potter was pale and anxious, but the dark terror that had gripped him before seemed to have gone for the time being. Relieved in spite of himself, Severus sipped his tea and returned his focus to the matter at hand.

Oh gods. Harry wanted to melt into the chair and vanish. He was certain Snape hadn't meant to bring up such terrible memories, but dear gods, he had. And Harry had let them see. His reaction had been so virulent, so strong—two men as intelligent as Dumbledore and Snape could not possibly have missed it.

Harry made damn sure to keep his eyes on the floor—or at least away from Snape's and Dumbledore's gaze—and listened to Snape tell his side of the story.

"After you left, Albus," Snape said, his voice subdued and soft, "I… I thought on what you had shared with me for some time, but I must have fallen asleep at some point. I heard neither Pettigrew nor Potter come in, not until Potter stunned the rat. I…."

Snape swallowed hard and stared at his hands. Harry followed his gaze to realise the man was shaking.

"Professor, I really wasn't aiming for you. I wasn't even angry at you, though I probably should be."

Snape wheeled on him. "Spare me your Gryffindor martyr act, Potter! No one is as saintly as you are pretending to be. There is… something off about this, and I will get to the bottom of it."

"Severus," Albus snapped.

Harry glared at the old man. "Let him speak his mind. He's not actually insulting me. I don't mind either way anyway. I've faced a lot worse—today." He stared both men down, despair and mad grief weighing down his heart, but his shoulders squared with the determination to let neither of them see it. Not this time.

Snape scowled. "Wh—you want me to insult you?"

Harry gave him a weary look. "Of course not, sir. I'd prefer you to see me as I am. But I've endured six years of abuse from you, so it's not like I'm not used to it."

He dropped his head and stared at the floor, struggling to keep his anguish out of his voice. "Regardless of what you think of me, sir, I'm not stupid. I'm well aware you'll never trust me or see me as anything worthwhile. If saving your life twice in twelve hours—and doing so fully aware you would only hate me more for the effort—if that isn't enough to make you see anything good in me, n-nothing ever will be."

He hugged his knees to his chest and stared ahead, at a blank space of wall lest one of the men try to read the crushing pain on his heart. "I know better than to hope by now."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry watched Dumbledore fold his hands over his lap and give Snape a pointed look. As it held less of a threat and more of a request for Snape to open his eyes and see what was right in front of him, Harry did not challenge him this time.

Snape stared at Harry as if he didn't recognise him. "W-what is this in aid of, Potter? I… I do not understand. Why are you doing this?"

"I would have thought that would have been obvious by now, Severus," said Headmaster Black. "Somehow, he cares about you in spite of your constant cruelty. He is absolutely crushed that you think so little of him despite all he has done to help you, has no hope that you will ever see the truth of him, and yet he still defends you. He saved your life despite your abuse—twice—and you still refuse to acknowledge any shred of humanity within him, all because he physically resembles a father he does not even remember."

"Oh, I remember him," Harry muttered.

Dumbledore, Snape, and Black all fixed him with a piercing look.

Dumbledore broke the silence. "How is that possible, Harry? You were only fifteen months when he died."

"I remembered Hagrid on Sirius' bike. I dreamed about it for years before I came here. But as far as my father goes, besides what I saw in the Mirror of Erised, Priori Incantatem in the graveyard, and…." He shot Snape a glance and gulped. "In other places, I remember the images I see every time a Dementor comes too close. 'Take Harry and run, Lily!' That's the only real memory I have of him: the fear and determination in his face seconds before he died to save me."

The office went silent. Even Fawkes' twittering and Snape's still-laboured breathing quieted, and an atmosphere heavy as lead choked the air.

"So yeah," Harry continued in a low voice. "I remember him. A bit."

A small, strangled sound on his left brought Harry's attention around. Snape had his fists clenched on his lap, so tight Harry guessed he was drawing blood, and a fall of black hair covered his face. The man was shaking and tense from head to toe.

Dear Merlin, Harry must have hurt him badly, but how? All he had done was talk about his… oh. His mum—Snape's one friend.

"Oh gods. Professor Snape, I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have brought it up."

Snape gave another choked sound of grief. Harry wanted to comfort him, but wasn't yet suicidal enough to risk it.

Dumbledore started, "Severus, my boy, are you qui—"

Snape whipped his head up and glared. Harry couldn't help but notice the redness around his eyes. Fuck. He hadn't meant to make the man cry. He hadn't believed Snape still knew how.

Harry squirmed, his stomach writhing with guilt and shame. Maybe Snape wasn't the only one guilty of prejudice.

"I am just peachy, Albus," Snape snarled in a voice that proved just the opposite. "If we might move on from this… lovely walk down memory lane, I still have a story to tell. Unless you do not wish to know what the Dark Lord had to say as he tortured the life from me?"

"Go on then," Dumbledore said, his eyes troubled. "What happened?"

After Potter's story, it had taken all Severus' strength to compose himself, but he wasn't a spy for nothing. The dosed tea had helped him get through his tale more than he would ever admit.

"… And just after then, you arrived with that mad house elf." Severus finished his story and set aside his empty cup. "Now, what are we to do about this mess, Headmaster? Obviously, I cannot remain here."

"Well, Severus," said Albus with a frown, "I confess I do not know. I had believed this to be the safest place to keep you. Unless…." He turned to Harry. "What about the place you used last year to teach your DA, Harry? You managed to keep it from the former high inquisitor for quite a while. Severus would be safe there, would he not?"

"If the DA wasn't still using it to train and hang out sometimes, I'd say yes," said Potter in a subdued voice. "If you put him there, he'll be discovered in no more than two or three days, tops. And with everyone… angry at him, I don't think they'll keep his hiding place a secret for long, even if I ask them to."

Albus' shoulders slumped. "Oh, I see. That was the best idea I had."

"You haven't asked me yet," Potter said, his eyes flashing with irritation.

Albus frowned. "Well, you are only a boy, so I hadn't thought—"

Potter scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Underestimating me again?" He scoffed and kicked at the floor. "Should have expected that, I guess. But I'm not stupid, sir, and I haven't been a child in a long time, regardless of my age. My first suggestion is Grimmauld Place."

"And that rubbish idea is an excellent example of why we don't include dunderheaded children in strategy sessions," Severus said with a scowl. "What do you think will happen when Arthur Weasley discovers why I am there? Or Shacklebolt?"

Potter winced. "Good point. So you need to stay at Hogwarts, sir?"

"Obviously, Potter. If you used that space between your ears you refer to as a brain—"

"Severus," Albus said, his tone fierce with warning. "Must I revisit our discussions from yesterday so soon?"

The admonition filled Severus with dread. He snapped his mouth shut and stared at the floor. He should have remembered Albus would take Potter's side and throw him under the bus. It had been that way since his school days, and it would always be so.

"Headmaster," said Potter sharply, "don't you think Professor Snape has endured enough death threats in the past twenty-four hours? I can hack it. Really, it's nothing new. So let's just focus on the task at hand, please."

Albus and Phineas both turned to stare at Severus, eyebrows raised. Severus dropped his head and struggled to keep a surge of heat from his face. Why did Potter keep breaking the bloody rules? He was supposed to be an arrogant tosser, not this… this self-sacrificing defender of Severus'honour and life. Gods. He couldn't comprehend any of it.

"He's still a human being and he doesn't deserve to die."

Guilt wrapped cold fingers around Severus' heart and squeezed. A human being….

Had he already forgotten that just yesterday, he had tormented this child to the point of sobbing in front of his classmates? Some of whom wanted Potter dead and would kill to find the boy's weakness? Had Severus already forgotten the pain he had caused the boy in that detention which had come too close to taking Potter's life as well?

Had he forgotten, in the midst of all his hatred, that Harry Potter was a human being, too?

Severus closed his eyes and lowered his head into his hands, utterly ashamed of himself. No matter what he thought of the boy, Potter had saved his life twice in twelve hours. Potter had gone out of his way to rescue a man who had tortured him and denied him the most basic of human needs.

Severus would not hurt him further. Never again. He had done enough damage.

"Harry," said Albus, bringing Severus' attention back to their discussion, "Severus is quite right about Grimmauld Place. As well as the danger from our allies should they realise what Severus has done to you—"

Severus barely suppressed a flinch.

"—There is also the fact that Sirius' death has made Secret Keepers of everyone. It is simply too dangerous now to leave either yourself or Severus there, when any moment one of the Order may slip and reveal our safehouse. No, it is better for everyone involved that Severus remain within Hogwarts, though I admit, if I cannot keep him safe even within the headmaster's private quarters, then I am at a loss as to how to protect him."

Potter grimaced and closed his eyes. His shoulders bowed forwards in a protective posture and his hands clenched into fists. Something had frightened him, but Severus couldn't understand what the boy had reacted to this time. Unless it was leftover grief for the mutt's untimely demise.

"In that case," Potter said in a quiet, uncertain tone, "there's only one place in this school that's secure enough to keep Riddle and his cronies out entirely. And even then, Professor Snape… would need help. But it would do. The only people who can get in and out of this place are Riddle and me, and Riddle is too much of a coward to charge into Hogwarts after the professor as long as you're still here, sir."

Albus frowned. "Yes, I believe you are correct about Tom, but what place do you speak of, Harry?"

Potter gulped and took a deep breath, eyes closed and fists trembling in his lap. "T-the Chamber of Secrets."

Severus nearly choked on his tea.

Albus' eyes widened. "Oh! That is a rather good idea, Harry." He frowned. "But that would mean Severus would require your help on a daily basis until he is able to return to his quarters and his position."

Potter gave him a grim nod. "Do you know another way to keep him alive until Riddle gets over his temper tantrum?"

Albus winced. "I do not."

"Then I guess you'll be stuck needing my help for a while longer." Something about his tone smacked of bitterness, sorrow, and deep anger, but Severus couldn't understand why Potter would detest helping him now when he had been doing so for the past day and a half without complaint.

Then again, this Potter wasn't the headmaster's sycophant any longer. Perhaps he wasn't angry with Severus at all, but with Albus.

What had happened there? Hadn't the boy trusted Albus blindly once? Was this sharp lack of trust all down to the mutt's death and Albus' failure to report the prophecy?

"I have failed him, Severus. Repeatedly."

Hmm. No, something deeper had happened between the two of them. Something Severus had missed.

Merlin, he didn't like that. If Severus' hatred had blinded him to the cause of the fallout between Potter and the Headmaster, what else might he have missed in his determination to see Potter as the enemy? Oh, that didn't bear thinking about.

Gods, he had to change. His hatred had cost him his honour, half of his skin, his value to the Order, and now his prided powers of observation had fallen to the wayside. What good was a spy if he couldn't see past his own prejudice?

Well, perhaps none at all, now that Riddle had turned on him. Fuck. His hatred had cost him everything.

"I do think the Chamber is the safest place to keep Severus," said Albus, pulling Severus out of his grim thoughts. "At least until the threats to his life diminish. Well done, Harry."

Severus shook off the choking noose of shame and despair to focus on the matter at hand. The Chamber. Well, whether Potter wanted to help Severus survive within its walls or not, there was one problem with the Chamber. Two, really.

"Albus, you cannot be serious!"

Albus gave Severus a warning look. "I am quite serious indeed, Severus. And I would advise you to put your grudges behind you as you now owe Harry your life, thrice over."

Severus winced. "I… it is not Potter I am objecting to. Has everyone but me forgotten that there is a bloody giant basilisk corpse rotting in there?"

Albus chuckled. "Nothing a few spells and a bit of spring cleaning won't fix. I daresay the Chamber is in rather dire need of it even without the basilisk."

Severus glared. "Albus, one cannot simply Vanish a basilisk corpse. It is resistant to magic, and besides that, basilisk venom does not react well to being tossed into non-being. Try to send an entire corpse there, and we will be teaching classes in a crater rather than a castle. Metaphorically speaking, of course, as we will all be dead!"

Albus winced. "Ah. Well, in that case, I am sure the house elves would be glad to help us remove it manually."

"Er…." Potter shook his head. "No good, sir. The house elves are as terrified of that place as the spiders are. I might be able to convince Dobby to help once he knows the snake is dead, but I'm not sure."

"Well, then we shall have to carry it out by hand ourselves," Albus said with a frown. "It is not a task I relish, but I would like losing our potions master even less."

"You'll need brooms to get out. I would have said Fawkes could take us back and forth, but…." Potter looked to the sleeping fledgling and shook his head. "He's too small now."

"Yes, I am afraid Fawkes will need to learn to fly again before he can be of any help with magical transport." Albus rubbed his beard. "But clearing out the Chamber is not impossible, Severus. Unpleasant, but not impossible."

Severus shuddered. "Unpleasant is a gross understatement. By now, that corpse will be utterly vile and highly toxic." And Merlin, what a waste of rare potions ingredients that was. "But even without the great rotting snake corpse, there is also the issue of my… communication problems to consider. As well as my needs. Perhaps I can conjure a loo, water, and a bed, but I cannot conjure food."

"Ah." Albus frowned and rubbed his beard. "All of these would be surmountable issues with the help of Harry or a house elf. Dobby!"

The elf appeared, his Santa hat flopped over one ear. The candy cane earring now had three friends dangling nearby, all in different colours, and he had added a tinsel garland necklace, complete with a Muggle Christmas elf ornament as a pendant.

"Hello, Master Dumbles, Master Snapey, and Great Master Harry Potter sir. How's can Dobby be helping you?"

Potter motioned the elf to his side. "Dobby, we have a problem. Professor Snape was nearly attacked this morning, so we have to get him to safety. I think I know of a safe place, but the thing is, he won't be able to get in and out easily on his own. Can you apparate to the Chamber of Secrets, Dobby? I promise it's safe. I killed the basilisk there years ago."

Dobby's ears drooped. "I is being sorry, Great Master Harry Potter, sir. There is magic on the Chamber—nothing can apparate in, not even house elves."

"So we would have no choice but to rely on Harry for assistance," said Albus with a sigh. "Well, it will interfere with your class schedule, Harry. Are you certain you are willing to do this?"

Potter shot him a dark glare. "Since when have I valued grades over human life, sir?"

"Considering the fact that you are here during lessons, I would say never," said Phineas Nigellus with a smirk.

Potter snorted. "True enough."

"Very well," said Albus with a wry smile. "Then I think we have little choice but to set the Chamber up for Severus and provide him with a way to contact you when he needs help." Albus fixed Severus with a sharp look over his spectacles. "And you will not punish him for his assistance, are we clear?"

Severus glared and crossed his arms over his chest. Merlin, but his pride would take a hit before this nightmare was over.

"As I am not Potter's instructor any longer, I am not in a position to punish him."

"You will not be cruel about it either, Severus."

"Stop," Potter snapped. "I don't care if he snipes at me. I'm not helping him to get in his good books. We all know Voldemort—"

Electricity and fire shot up Severus' arm. He couldn't hold back a gasp and wince.

Potter looked at him, uncertain. "Er… well, we all know Riddle would sooner switch sides and beg for forgiveness than Professor Snape will acknowledge my humanity. So let's just focus on keeping him alive for now."

Albus and Phineas gave a resigned nod, as if they accepted that Severus would likely never overcome his prejudice.

Two days ago, Severus would have agreed with them. But now, after everything he had endured the past couple of days, he wasn't so sure.

Images from Albus' memories flickered into his mind, of Potter holding Severus like he had never been held before, of Potter's fingertips stroking Severus' hair away from his forehead and a gentle hand washing his face.

He should be furious. He should be mad with rage that the Potter scion had touched him without consent. He should be terrified, given how much he hated to be touched by those he didn't trust implicitly.

But all he could feel, as he lost himself in those bittersweet, confusing images, was a desperate wish that he had been conscious and capable of feeling that gentle caress.

Merlin, but this was going to be a long month.