AN: Only two reviews for the last chapter, Sad face. Very sad face, but! I am a benevolent author, and you can have the next chapter anyway. Enjoy, and comments on what you think happened to Remus and Sirius will earn Points!

Chapter Ten: Sleepy

The boy's face was pale, but not worryingly so; though Severus had done his best to conceal the hard exercise and subsequent cool down to avoid stress, it had still been a lot for a small boy. It remained that the twiggy little body was far too light... he would not usually contemplate carrying a first year for any length of time, but he did not see it being a problem in this case.

He used a voice command to open the waterlock's exit, watching that he did not knock the boy's feet on the hatch.

Harry had performed admirably, picking up the basics quickly. Snape was not confident enough to allow the boy to swim in anything deeper than about 1.2 meters without a breather and certainly not alone, but all the same, he had gotten around well enough. His obvious curiosity was gratifying too. That he was still capable of that was a good sign and Snape would simply answer as many questions as he could.

Glancing down, Severus realised that Harry was not eating but rather staring dazedly into the middle distance and looking sleepy. He gave him a little jog with the arm under his shoulders,

"Must I remind you again?" the gaunt little face looked up at him and grinned wryly. Honestly; must his eyes be so very green? The expression looked out of place on a child's face and Severus was reminded of Hagrid's chilling description;

"An... an' e' looks old, like..."

"Sorry, sir. I get a bit... dazed when I'm tired." He said, pulling open the string bag and eating one of the berries.

"Do try and remain coherent, you may rest when we get to the Mess." Severus swept down the corridor to the lift smoothly and swiftly and they reached their destination much quicker than they would have, had Harry been walking.

Once in the Mess, he set the boy on the counter, propping him in the right-angle made by the wall and a cupboard. He seemed to have eaten a good number of berries, enough that Severus was confident that he would last the half hour it will take to make lunch. He snorted quietly to himself; even the little Lemuro was tired out. Taking a step back, he watched for a moment to make sure Harry would not fall, then swiftly unbuttoned his jacket and folded it on the counter. With his sleeves safely out of the way, he turned the hotplate on and set some pasta cooking while he prepared the mussels.

The boy perked up after a few minutes and looked at the modified vegetables Severus had left near his hip and he took it as a cue to begin a mild lecture on 'domestic' hydroponics.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That first day of exercise was hard, but not terrible, Harry decided. He hadn't realised it at the time, but the exercise had been just as much as he could take. After lunch, he'd slept and read and played with Hedwig, but hadn't been good for much else.

The second day was worse.

He woke early, the sun was shafting through the water at a steep angle, dim and pinkish with dawn, but Harry wasn't in a position to appreciate it. His limbs felt so very heavy and ached but when he tried to move, that ache multiplied and his muscles rebelled; he was forced to slump bonelessly on his mattress. His position, lying curled on his side, was quickly becoming uncomfortable but he knew not to move too quickly. He was familiar with the feeling; too often had his relatives pushed him too far and he had felt it the next day, each and every time. Snape had said that Harry would hate him, by the end of the first week, and he could see why but that truly wasn't something he was capable of...

All the same, a thrill of nervousness rippled over him and he moved slowly to get up again, failing just as spectacularly with a whimper that summoned Hedwig from her water bowl like a shot. Her cool hands, chilled by the metal bowl, touched his face in a gesture that was quickly becoming familiar and he reassured her in a soft voice.

When Snape arrived, he had managed little more than rolling onto his back and Harry couldn't decide between being glad to see him and being deeply ashamed of his state. The door swished closed behind the professor, who Harry noted was carrying his silver box of medical... stuff.

"Good morning, Professor, Sorry, um... I..." He stuttered, blushing and batting ineffectively at the covers. Hedwig chattered, irritated, at him and took swift refuge on the pillow above his head.

"Morning indeed, Mr Potter. Lie still," He commanded in a calm voice which Harry obeyed nervously, freezing and trying to convince himself that this was the same as that first night, that he should not be... afraid, or ashamed, or whatever this was that made him want to stop looking quite so pathetic in front of his teacher.

"Yes, sir. I'm pretty sore." Snape simply nodded and held out his silver box. It sat horizontally on the air, as stable as if it was on a table, and he opened it swiftly and lifted things out, including a bulky syringe with no needle on and, oddly enough, no plunger. Harry eyes widened, but he replayed the moment after his last encounter with Medical Officer Snape, when everything had been just fine. He was determined not to make a fool of himself.

"Pain relief, topical muscle relaxant, hot pads." Snape said, placing each item, in turn on Harry's bedside table; first the syringe, then a tube of salve, and finally two plastic pouches filled with blue gel with a coil embedded in it. The man sat down next to Harry's waist, making the bed dip slightly and picked up the pain killer.

"This should work immediately, and we will attempt to appease your, no doubt uncomfortable, muscles." Snape offered the syringe to Harry's mouth, which he opened obediently, and the dose deposited itself on his tongue. He grimaced in distaste immediately and the urge to spit the thick, sticky, bitter fluid out was strong. Snape's fingers holding his jaw shut were gentle and insistent, however, and Harry swallowed reluctantly. The goop, for want of a better term, stuck to the sides of his mouth and throat unpleasantly and slimed its way down his throat. Snape's face was distinctly amused as he turned away to put the syringe in the bin and Harry made a face at him before he realised what he was doing; there was no immediate retribution, however, and Harry relaxed again. He was most of the way through rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand before he realised that the movement no longer hurt; he broke into an immediate grin and begun testing his other limbs as well.

"Wow... thank you, sir..." He said with genuine gratitude, which the professor just snorted at dismissively.

"On your front, Harry, and take your shirt off." Snape ordered, keeping his back turned. Harry blinked at this but obeyed anyway, speaking up when he was done. Snape didn't say anything after that, as he rubbed in the salve and pressed the hot pads over Harry's shoulders, one on either side of his spine where the worst of the ache had been. Harry kept his head buried in the pillow and suppressed his whimper of relief.

That done and the salve given a few minutes to work in under the influence of the heat, Snape had run Harry through some thorough stretches, which Harry found reduced the remaining stiffness to manageable levels. Snape announced him fit and sent him to have a bath, specifically in hot water, and wash the left over salve off.

They made breakfast together, which Harry found as nice as cooking lunch together the day before and were soon back in the Hydroponics bay. Again, once they had finished the first length, to the far end of the bay, they returned more slowly, collecting the occasional ingredient and having a lesson on the things around them. Lunch and rest followed and Harry slept for most of the afternoon.

Snape made him stretch again after dinner and this time he found the burning muscles to be a not-unpleasant sensation and found pulling them out to be immensely satisfying, almost like pulling off a scab.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The first two weeks passed easily and quietly like that, as Harry slowly got stronger and more co-ordinated in the water. The mornings got progressively easier as his muscles caught up to the activity and he even began to notice that his eyes took less time to adjust to changes in light levels. He soon had enough energy to help with lunch more actively and Severus was sad to discover his very high proficiency; the boy cooked like an adult.

On Harry's part, he was finding it novel and strange to have specific time to himself each afternoon. He read, and watched the fish outside his window, played with Hedwig... It was surreal and time and time again, he found himself waiting, watching and listening for the next barked order, or exclamation of disappointment. It was easy to remember that the Dursley's were not around but difficult to know, in the deep, animal parts of his mind, that they were not going to appear at his door. He found himself appreciating the Professor's company outside of these times, because he could concentrate on him, then.

They did not speak of the Dursley's, 'for now' Snape said, and Harry relaxed as time passed.

Hagrid came and went, once bringing a batch of biscuits that a planet-born had made, which they enjoyed together. Hearing about other students made Harry curious about the Academy, made him worry about it, so he studied in the afternoons; when he was awake at least.

Snape mentioned the different subject teachers when he was familiarizing Harry with the material; Harry found it harder to be apprehensive about a class when he knew that the teacher had a soft spot for Oscar the Octopus, or a particular liking for cats. He taught him how to come to attention, how to be 'at ease', what muster was. He gave him a formal check-up every two days, but Harry knew that he was watching whenever they were in the same space, which was often. He taught him how to give a status report; concise and of pertinent information; Harry began to have a feel for what life would be like, the structure and order that was required on board a Battle Cruiser. Slowly, his nerves diminished into excitement and anticipation.

Snape didn't ever leave him alone for very long, a few hours each afternoon in case he needed to sleep off the mornings exercise, but otherwise, kept him company. It was nice and novel; Harry was used to being alone for days, sometimes. Hours, certainly... Here, he and Snape were alone, but in good company. Harry thought it might have something to do with his frailty; some days he had trouble doing his stretches in the morning and Snape would be there to gently pull his muscles out or rub a heating gel into the tendons of the offending joint, usually a knee or ankle. Six times he fell asleep over lunch or playing with Hedwig and six times he found himself waking up, warm and comfortable in his bed.

Occasionally he would sit at his window, with its panoramic view of the sea bed and let himself be sad about the Dursleys. Or angry. He thought that he should probably be confused too, but he'd always known that they hadn't wanted him... which he found sad in and of its self. They had constantly reminded him that there was very little between him and the dreaded orphanage. Such thoughts always left him nervous and unsettled, nothing had really changed; he was still just Harry, and all he had to reassure himself was the nameplate on his door and a seven-year promise for schooling, it was all a bit too intangible. But then, when he was feeling sad, Hedwig would always drop whatever she was investigating and come to comfort him. She was very tangible indeed; her long, feathery tail would curl around his throat, her sticky little hands would bury in his hair and Harry would remember the things Hagrid had told him on his first and best birthday.

He was in such a state, staring out of the window solemnly when Snape turned up, some thirteen days after their arrival to the Thrace. He heard the man come in; his heavy magnetic boots made a deep-toned thump even if Snape walked very lightly, which he did most of the time. It wasn't the first time Harry had been caught like this; Snape had never mentioned anything before but Harry had a feeling that his 'for now' had just run out.

"Mr Potter." came the soft greeting from just behind his left shoulder, accompanied by a warm hand on his right.

"Professor." Harry replied just as softly and looked up past the stern face to black eyes glittering with concern and eyebrows slightly pinched into a frown.

"Are you comfortable here? The food, the exercise?" He was asked as the hand tightened on his shoulder fractionally.

Harry didn't know what to say, it wasn't how he had imagined this conversation going... "I... yes, it's good and I'm stronger and..." He stopped his stuttering and let his shoulders droop; he knew what the professor was truly asking. "No..." He let the pause drag out as he thought about how to say it, the eventually it just burst out of him, all on its own. "I know you won't send me to the orphanage, I do! You've been great and helped me and are healing me and...! but I can't believe it! I'm no use, you don't let me clean, or do the breakfast on my own, or make dinner. I know the Dursley's were weird and wrong and logically, it all makes sense, but they were family and even they made me earn my keep! And I feel like... What's going to happen when you finally work it out, and I've spent all this time being useless and pathetic?" Harry realised that he was short of breath, as if he'd just run up stairs then found the thought absurdly out of place, considering ships didn't have stairs. He tried to stop and take a deep breath but pent up tension wound around his ribs and tightened; stopping his efforts in his throat.

Hedwig's frantic chattering filtered through the rapidly darkening haze, along with Snape's voice, telling him something he couldn't grasp. He felt the world tilt and heard a shocking and rather darkly muttered swearword before being swept in close to Snape's torso and thumped soundly on his back. The blow knocked all the air out of him and the tightness across his ribs disappeared with it. He drew in a huge shuddering breath and the haze and buzzing in his ears receded.

"-hoped this wouldn't happen, by Orion's great codpiece... Harry? Concentrate, Mr Potter; can you hear me?" Large hands were smoothing over the, admittedly slightly tender, spot where Snape had thumped him and holding his head stable. Which was fortunate; Harry did not feel stable at all. He made his breathing even out by dint of will, remembering to actually breathe out this time;

"I can hear you," He croaked, "Sorry, sir..."

Snape's chest expanded against his side and the sigh that followed ruffled his hair, "So it would seem; do not apologise for something I should have spoken to you about a week ago."

The world tipped and shifted and Snape gathered him up again, like he sometimes did after swimming. Harry blinked slowly into the middle distance as he was carried across the room but Hedwig was having none of it; she was clinging tightly to his shirt with her feet and Harry could feel feathers against his belly from where her tail had curled through the gap between shirt buttons. Her hands came up and stuck to his cheeks and much chattering was done until he looked her in the eye and at least tried to smile.

Snape sat down of the edge of the bed but did not put him down, Harry was grateful; he was warm and experience had told him that he was safe like this, secure.

"I won't be sent to an Orphanage, will I?" He asked, calmer.

"No, you won't. Albus Dumbledore will not let that happen, just as Hagrid, and I, would not." Snape assured, his voice rumbling inches from Harry's ear. "Now that we have you, we will not let you go."

Harry's throat constricted and his eyes burned; Hedwig patted the tears away when they escaped. "But why? I don't understand... I'm not my mum, or my dad, I didn't fight in the war, I'm just an errand boy for some fat, lazy mudder!" He knew he was very close to a growl and that a bit of his anger at his uncle was escaping his control.

"You're right, you aren't your father, or Lily Evans, as much as I expected you to be, as much as you look like him. But you are still their son." Snape's arms tightened around him and he pressed in closer; the man's voice had hitched and Harry wanted to comfort him, like he was comforting Harry. "Lily and James Potter were well loved, Harry, and we would care for you just for that, even if we had not already seen your courage and strength."

Harry shivered and shook his head, keeping it tucked in close to Snape's chest, "Then WHY? Why the Dursleys? Why..." His voice broke and he couldn't continue; speaking the name was bad enough.

"Fear, Harry. Terrible and twisted fear..." Snape's voice grew gravely and harsh,

"The war had just ended... it was madness; broken, dying ships filled the lanes. Shrapnel punched holes in our hulls for months after the fighting had ended and our home stations were in pieces, loosing air. The stories filled the news, even down here. Dumbledore sent you planet-side with your godfather and his... friend in the hopes that you would be kept free of the chaos. They were supposed to keep you safe, but that was before we discovered the spy in our ranks. He... Peter Pettigrew, destroyed them both before he met his own end."

Harry sobbed and shook; he didn't want to know that people who had cared for him had been betrayed and didn't want to feel the anger lurking under his skin. He gripped Snape's uniform jacket, hard and bit into the fabric at his wrist to restrain the turmoil. He didn't want to think about how, in weak moments in his cupboard, he had wished his parents had not been so selfish as to die, or about his anger at what had been his lot in life.

"They did not die but... they didn't survive either. I'm sorry, Harry... Their madness was not something we could save them from. You may meet them, one day."

Harry could just nod; what could he say to that? His throat was too tight and his mind too jumbled to do anything else.

"Without your godfather, there was no one to protect you from the Terran government; your DNA was used to find your closest blood relative and we could do nothing. For years, VCers weren't allowed into the atmosphere, let alone planet-side; we were anathema, creatures of war and known mostly from vid's of the destruction. By the time planet-side trading was allowed again, your aunt had been convinced to take out a restraining order on VCers in general and the Poseidon in particular, by her husband. We fought hard, Harry... I promise you that; your godfather, Black and his companion, Lupin were deported to Ottery Station, and Dumbledore petitioned the government time on time... but the war was simply too high a hurdle. I am so sorry, Harry..." He murmured into Harry's hair, his voice having gotten quieter and softer as he had gone on. The silence stretched on and Harry made the effort to put himself back together, feeling changed and unbalanced by what had been said.

"So you tried, at least... thanks, for doing that much, it means a lot." He said through his daze, overwhelmed.

"We did not want to leave you there, Harry, you are one of us and many could not bear to let you go. Many people will be very happy to see you." Harry pushed himself up a little, so he could look Snape in the eye.

"Like Madam Malkin?" he asked wryly.

"Like Madam Malkin." Snape replied with absolute certainty.

"She was nice, I liked her." He said, tentatively, happy to move on to other things. He would think about what Snape had said, just... not right now.

"Indeed." There was a long pause, Harry wiped his eyes on the handkerchief Snape handed him surreptitiously and then wriggled off his lap.

"I, um... er. Thank you." Harry gave up trying to explain and looked up into black eyes, hoping that Snape would understand. He did;

"You're welcome, Harry." A warm hand landed on his shoulder as Snape stood up and Harry kept his eyes on his Professors face, seeing the deep richness of emotion in his stoic expression, for all that it remained still. "Now, it is approaching six o'clock, it is time to make our way to the Mess."

The hand on his shoulder gave a brief squeeze and Harry nodded, glad that he had not given in to the panic attack and could 'make his way' on his own two feet. "Yes sir." He said, rubbing his face with his hands again to banish some of the muzz left by his crying. "Hedwig!" He called; she had vanished when he had stood. Her little face popped up over Snape's shoulder, who turned his head towards her and raised a sardonic eyebrow,

"To your Master, little one." He said, making a shooing gesture with one hand; she chattered back at him for a half second before jumping and gliding to Harry's outstretched forearm. Soon after, they were headed to the Mess, where they had a quiet, introspective meal.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The following day, Snape appeared much earlier than usual in the afternoon; Harry was just opening screens at his desk to read about the mysterious game called 'Quidditch', played in zero g, and the sport of all spacers, be they sky-born or earth-born. One showed a vid of a professional game, another, an excerpt from the Poseidon Handbook and a third, a rundown of positions. It was enthralling to watch, even if he hadn't a clue yet as to what, exactly, was going on, and he had trouble tearing his eyes away from the vid in order to look up what the '0' on the most mobile player's back referred to. He paused it when his door swished open and turned to greet Snape; he stood to attention, like Snape had showed him a few days ago, with a grin. Snape's look of veiled amusement made it worthwhile; the professor had told him that only 'captain on deck' required coming to attention without being explicitly told to, but Harry had argued that technically Snape was the Thrace's captain, sort of.

"At ease, Mr Potter," he said as his trouser leg was assaulted by Hedwig as she climbed it to greet him. He gave her his hand once she reached his knee and she stuck to it with her strong little hands, "Hedwig." He gave her a serious nod as he held her up at face level. Harry smiled at her antics and relaxed his posture.

"Afternoon, sir." The lemuro glided back to him, and he held out his arm for her to land on.

"Indeed."He replied, his amusement lingering under his stern features. He tugged his sleeve down, ostensibly to straighten it, though Hedwig was so light that she hadn't affected it much. "Get a conduction shirt on, Harry. I think it's time you tried your Interface again."

Harry's heart leapt in excitement and he nodded quickly; they had spoken about that, and he had been waiting for Snape's go-ahead eagerly. His trunk was open before the door had closed behind the Professor and Hedwig got an excited, one armed hug as he pulled out the full length black and green shirt, which he had yet to wear. The neoprene-like material hugged very close to his skin; it had to touch everywhere to be effective. He adjusted the collar, pulling it up to the back of his head, and almost felt the ghost of the few moments in which he had worn the Interface before. It was truly exhilarating.

The excitement blew away the last of the cobwebs and thoughts of strange sports from Harry's head as he lifted out the secure metal box that had been packed so carefully in his trunk. He hurried to follow the Professor, palming the control to the sliding door and only controlling his bouncing by standing to attention in the half-second it took to open, Hedwig on his shoulder. Snape was just returning from his room, uniform coat and his personal data pad in hand, and raised an eyebrow at Harry's impatience; Harry looked down at himself and found himself shoeless.

Snape recommended he change his trousers too, to the non-absorbent shorts he'd been wearing for swimming in, and to grab his breather, Harry didn't know why. So it was a few minutes later than Harry had hoped when they began walking towards what the professor called his 'lab', explaining that it was where he ran cybernetic gel research over the summer. Harry had a brief thought that he had been taking all the man's time, away from something, it was apparent, that he found deeply interesting. He dismissed the thought quickly, however; now was not the time, and lengthened his stride.

Hedwig was left behind in the end, much to her confusion, with a mussel to pry open and some fruit, which soon distracted her.