Harry and Snape walked quickly back up the stairs before Snape turned back suddenly and walked towards the Petrified snake. He mumbled a spell quietly and the snake disappeared from the spot with a whiff of smoke.

"What did you just do?" asked Harry, aghast.

"I did not kill it." Said Snape, annoyed. "I banished it to another forest."

"Okay," Harry muttered as they walked through the door and into the warm kitchen. He did not know why, but the thought of Snape killing the snake distressed him.

"I made stir-fry," He said unnecessarily as he put down the blackberry basket on the table and passed a plate of dinner to Snape. The man looked down his hooked nose at the food and said nothing, but did cautiously begin eating, without doing that stupid diagnostic spell.

"You're sure you're okay, sir?" asked Harry.

Snape glared at him. "I am fine, Potter."

Harry frowned. "Don't think that I thought you were…weak, or that I pitied you or anything. It's completely understandable after your ordeal with Nagini…" He rather smiled at the thought of Snape cowering from something in fear. "The idea of thinking you weak is laughable. You're the bravest man I know."

Snape opened his mouth to say something but then closed it. Seeming unsure what to say, he dove into the stir-fry with ferocity. Harry finished his and started to make the blackberry pie, smiling a little at the thought of himself in Snape's house, cooking a pie. The idea would have seemed so ludicrous a year ago, but now it was reality.

Thankfully, he had located Snape's owl earlier and was able to send letters to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny to them know of his whereabouts. Strangely, though he missed his friends deeply, he was not despising the time apart as much as he thought he would. He wondered what they would think of the arrangement, if they would be scared of Rudolphus Lestrange. He noticed that Snape didn't get the Daily Prophet, which he personally thought was a wise decision, but he did wonder if he was on the cover among speculation over where he was. He wondered if people would think it strange he was staying with Snape.

Snape distracted Harry from his thoughts by bringing his empty plate to the sink and washing it quietly. With his sleeves rolled up, his Dark Mark shone oddly against his pale skin.

"Do you think that will fade?" asked Harry, gesturing at Snape's forearm.

Snape glanced up and swiftly recovered the tattoo, glaring distastefully at Harry. "I hoped so." He said bitterly.

"How did you get it?" asked Harry curiously.

"A spell." Snape said vaguely.

"Yeah, obviously I know it was a spell," Harry said, irritated, "Was it Dark Magic? Did it hu-"

"Shut up, Potter." Snape said loudly, his tone angry. "I do not have to answer these foolish personal questions."

"You did yesterday!" said Harry angrily.

"Yes, in a severe lapse in judgment-"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "It was good for you to say that stuff, you clearly haven't talked about it and I think it would help-"

"Stop assuming the role of a psychologist, Potter!" Snape hissed. "I should not have spoken to you yesterday, those were personal topics –"

"No, it was good! I appreciated it, I thought you were finally opening up and I want to continue that-"

"Why, Potter?" asked Snape sarcastically. "Why do you want me to "continue" to "open up"?"

"Because I want you to be happy!" shouted Harry, his arms crossed fiercely. "I don't know why you're so determined to make your life miserable, what you did was nearly eighteen years ago and it's just so stupid-"

Snape's face flared with real anger. "Do not call me stupid, Potter." He said dangerously.

"I'm not calling you stupid," said Harry, exasperated, "I'm calling your actions stupid!"

"SHUT UP, Potter!" Snape bellowed.

"FINE!" Harry yelled back, slamming his fist on the counter. "You make it so effing difficult to help you! I thought we were making progress, but evidently not. Here is your bloody pie." Harry snatched the pie from the oven, setting it down aggressively on the counter and, spinning around, strutted upstairs.

He was trying to help Snape. He really was. And he had thought, between the talk last night and swimming and even Snape's gratitude with the whole snake encounter, things were progressing. He was at least seeing a side of Snape that was human and relatable, not so unflappable and unemotional at all times. But apparently not. Harry sighed. Scanning the sky for Snape's owl with replies from his friends, he saw nothing but stars against a black backdrop. He sighed again.

He sat down on the bed and tried to abate his anger by reading Jane Eyre. But even the young woman and her adventures with her strangely-named cousin couldn't keep him awake tonight. He drifted slowly off into a restless sleep.

He was kneeling next to them, sobbing as he looked despairingly at their lifeless faces. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny lay motionless on the grass in the graveyard, a white-faced, snake-like creature poised above them, cackling madly and wielding his wand like a sword.

"You could not save them, Harry Potter!" Voldemort exclaimed gleefully, his red eyes alight with malice and joy. "You could not save anyone, and now you cannot even save yourself!" He raised his wand and suddenly Harry saw more images of dead bodies; his father, splayed out in the hallway; his mother, her red hair contrasting with the blue rug of the nursery; Sirius, the ghost of a smile on his dead face-

"Potter!" Harry heard an annoyed voice yelling. Was it Hermione? He remembered she had always comforted him after nightmares when they had been on the run. But that voice sounded much deeper.

"Potter, snap out of it." The voice was speaking again but Harry knew he was screaming, the images of corpses still fresh in his mind. He felt a strong hand roughly grasp his forearm; it definitely wasn't Hermione. Maybe Ron? But there was something different about that voice…

After a few more agonizing moments Harry allowed the coaxing voice to break him from his nightmare. Opening his eyes infinitesimally, to his surprise, he saw Snape standing next to the bed, wearing green pajama bottoms and a black long-sleeved shirt. He looked annoyed, but when Harry opened his eyes, relief was evident on his face.

Harry scooted backwards in bed, breaking free of Snape's grasp. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"You had a nightmare." Snape stated. Harry nodded, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry I woke you up."

Snape shook his head minutely. "Nightmares are not a crime."

Harry avoided Snape's gaze. He had been so infuriated with the man earlier, but now he was standing before him, wearing his pajamas, and though he had probably been rudely woken up, he did not look angry or annoyed. And, he had just helped Harry when he could have left him to wake up himself.

"Did you put up a Silencing Charm last night?"

Harry paused. "I actually slept okay last night," he admitted. "Your, erm, piano playing…I think it relaxed me. But yeah, at Hogwarts I have been. I don't want to wake anyone up."

Snape suddenly looked very tired and ran a hand over his face. He was wearing his glasses, but they were rather crooked, as though he had put them on in a hurry. The idea made Harry feel strangely warm.

Harry settled back in the pillows. His sheets were drenched in sweat; he felt clammy and slightly nauseated. He closed his eyes.

"You look pale." Snape stated. His expression was indecipherable, but betrayed a hint of concern. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it. His hand came up slowly from his side and Harry stared at it, confused. Snape hesitated momentarily and then pressed his hand to Harry's forehead, checking for a fever.

Harry closed his eyes at the touch. Snape's hand was softer than he had expected, and warmer. He had always expected the man to be ice-cold, but strangely, he radiated heat.

The motion was no big deal, Harry was sure Snape had done it whenever he helped out in the Infirmary like Madame Pomfrey had said, but still. It was something a parent would do for a child, and was almost comforting. Harry had never had never been properly taken care of, unless you counted Hermione, but she was only Harry's age.

Snape pulled his hand away. "I do not believe you have a fever. You are just shaken from the dream." He paused and stepped back, bending down to pick up the fallen Jane Eyre, and placed it on the bedside table. "Come downstairs." He ordered, sweeping out of the room without so much as a backwards glance.

Harry sighed. It seemed like Snape was in a better mood, but this little midnight discussion would probably end in Harry being punished for yelling at Snape earlier. He pulled on his bathrobe trudged downstairs, wearing his slippers.

He entered the kitchen, but Snape was not there. He was surprised to see the blackberry pie, still whole, sitting on a glass platter. Harry wondered if Snape no longer trusted his cooking.

He was surprised to see, through the door, Snape sitting at the couch holding a steaming mug of tea in front of him, staring out at the black, moonlit lake. Another mug was placed on the table.

Harry grabbed the other mug and gratefully drank, settling into the chair next the couch.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier." Harry said, breaking the silence. "I shouldn't have pried into your life, it's not my business, and it won't happen again." He looked up wearily, hoping Snape would accept his apology, trying to maintain the fragile truce they had built.

But Snape was looking at him strangely. "Why is it that all you ever do is apologize, Potter?" But his tone was not malicious or sarcastic. He seemed genuinely curious.

Harry frowned. "I'm not sure. It's a reflex."

Snape seemed satisfied with that and took a long sip of his tea. Harry expected him to next discuss his punishment and tensed, bracing himself.

But what Snape said next shocked him. "What happened in your nightmare?"

Harry paused briefly, considering if he should be honest. It had been very personal, but then again, Snape had shared some private information with him the previous night. "I saw all my friends dead. Voldemort killed them, because I failed to save them."

"Who?"

"Ron, Hermione, Ginny. And then…then I saw all the people that had actually died. Sirius…my parents. In my house." A brief hint of pain flickered through Snape's expression, but it was barely noticeable.

"Where were you?"

"The graveyard." Harry said. "The one where he came back, that night in the Triwizard Tournament. You…you went there that night, right?" Snape turned his head slightly to look at Harry. "Sorry," Harry muttered, "you don't have to answer that. It's personal."

"I have been to the graveyard, Potter." Snape clarified.

"You weren't there, though, when he was torturing me?"

Snape shook his head. "I was at the tournament, Potter. I could not so easily have told the staff, students and families that I had to go as Lord Voldemort had returned and was summoning me with a Dark tattoo on my arm."

"But later," Harry said, remembering, "Dumbledore asked if you were prepared, and you said you were. I remember that clearly."

"Interesting, the things your brain chooses to remember." Said Snape speculatively, but without malice or derision. His tone was almost teasing. Harry snorted.

"Anyway…it was at the graveyard, and they were all just lying there, dead." Harry said, sobering. "It was the worst feeling in the world, knowing I hadn't been able to save them."

Snape looked back at the lake and Harry suddenly realized what he had just said. He internally smacked his palm on his forehead. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean-"

"Stop apologizing, Potter." Snape said quietly. "I asked you about your dream. Please disregard any implications it could have on my own feelings."

"It was the worst feeling I have ever felt." Harry said. "That's why…that's why I was screaming. The pain was unbearable."

"Worse than the Cruciatus." Snape muttered in spite of himself, clenching his fists.

Harry felt his heart melt a little for Snape. "Can I say something, sir?"

"Well, I cannot stop you."

"No, can I say it without you getting mad."

"Spit it out."

Harry took a deep breath. "My mother would have forgiven you, there is no doubt in my mind. She would have forgiven you for giving the prophecy to Voldemort, for becoming a Death Eater – all of it. Because look at what you have done, you have more than made up for it." He looked at Snape hard, who did not break eye contact. The black orbs looked profoundly sad. "I don't know what happens after you die. I don't know why, but I have a feeling people stick around. At least, I hope they do. And I think that one day you'll see my mum again, and she'll tell you all this herself. And hopefully…hopefully then you'll stop being in so much pain." Harry paused. "And hopefully I'll see her too." He added as an afterthought.

Snape just stared at him with those profoundly sad eyes. Harry did not think he had ever seen so much emotion in a pair of eyes before. He took a sip of his tea, which immediately warmed his chilled body and cleared his head.

"Would you like to see pictures?"

Harry looked up in shock at Snape. Had he heard correctly? "Pictures…pictures of my mum?"

Snape nodded. "I only have a few, but –"

"I would love to." Harry said immediately. Snape nodded, hesitantly got up, and went over towards one of the bookshelves. He took out a small box at the bottom of it, pulling out a dark blue album. He went back to the couch, motioning for Harry to sit next to him.

"She made this for me when we were fourteen." He said, fingering the cover delicately. It had a picture of a much younger and happier Snape, wearing his Hogwarts robes, and a younger Lily, her bright red hair shining in the sunlight. Snape was imitating someone, his eyebrows shooting up theatrically, and Lily was hysterically laughing. They appeared to be sitting on one of the low walls in the Hogwarts courtyard. Harry took the book gently in his hands and traced the embossed cover gently. For Sev, it read in gold lettering. Love, Lily.

He flipped through the book slowly, savoring each picture, acutely aware of Snape doing the same thing beside him. Most pictures were of Snape and Lily together, but some were solo shots that the other had taken. He laughed aloud when he saw one of Snape standing next to a perfectly formed snowman wearing a black scarf, black hat, and with black buttons in its middle. His heart hurt when he saw one of his mother in the library, studying intensely and looking strangely like Hermione. His eyes pricked with tears every time he saw one of Snape and Lily together laughing – his mother had looked so beautiful when she laughed, and Snape's face came alight, making him look like a different person. Nobody looking at these photos would ever know the tragic lives both children would end up leading, the vicious secrets and struggles that would tear them apart.

After what seemed like a great while, Harry closed the book gently, stealing a glance at Snape, whose eyes appeared a little glassy. Harry's own eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "Thank you." He said sincerely. "That was…very special. I loved the pictures. Thank you for sharing it with me."

Snape nodded and glanced out the window again.

"I know we can't do it tonight, but…could we talk about her some time? If you can?"

Snape hesitated and then nodded minutely, biting his lip ever so slightly. Harry stole another glance at the book's cover.

"You know the Mirror of Erised?" Harry asked.

Snape looked at him curiously. "Yes."

"I saw her in it. With…my dad." Harry cleared his throat. "When I was eleven. Dumbledore told me how unusual it was that I would see such a thing…not riches, or glory, or any of that. Just love."

Snape did not respond, but stared out the window.

"I wasn't saying that so you'd tell me what you saw in the mirror." Harry clarified. "That's just the first time I ever saw her. It was weird, because you know, it was so real."

Snape was quiet for the longest time yet. He drained his tea and stared at Harry with those profoundly sad eyes. "I saw her too," He said softly.

Harry felt his heart melt a little again. He did not know how to respond, so grabbed Snape's hand momentarily and squeezed. Snape did not squeeze back, but also did not yank it away. Harry smiled a little and said, "Although the thought probably makes you cringe, we are more alike than I realized."

To Harry's surprise, Snape's lips lifted into a small smile. "That thought does horrify me. But perhaps not as much as it once would have."

Harry's eyes brightened. "I'm gratified to hear that you no longer harbor you gut-wrenching hatred of me. I imagine that was a little tiring." He smiled a little.

Snape was staring at him again. Perhaps at night the man's brain moved a little slower than usual, he thought.

"She would have been proud of you." Snape stated. "You are very much like her."

Warmth spread through Harry's body like wildfire. He opened his mouth to speak but found he could not. His eyes brimmed with tears, of both sadness and happiness, until he could not contain them and he gave a little sob. He tried to smile, to show Snape that these were not all tears of grief. "Thank you." He said softly.

This time when he reached for Snape's hand and squeezed, Snape squeezed back.