Oof, it's been a hot minute. I've had this in my drafts for a bit. Life has just been hectic, but I had a minute this morning so, here you go. I hope you all enjoy it and please, do feel free to leave a review. They make me happy :)

The Slumber to Awaken

For whatever reason, Harry wouldn't be able to explain it if asked, he stayed close to Snape. His body was now visible and Dumbledore was guiding both of them into 12 Grimmauld Place. He wanted to ask what the Order of the Phoenix was, who the house they were entering belonged to, and why Dumbledore kept avoiding his eyes. He didn't though. If the last hours with Snape had taught him anything, it's that listening gets you more information than just asking a bunch of questions. And really, as much as the man hated him (the feeling very much mutual) . . . Snape had also dragged him away from the Dursleys, which was suspicious, but he'd made it to Dumbledore in one piece. Harry did consider the man could just be bidding his time, but . . .

Albus Dumbledore, for all his power, has never injured me like this.

Harry thought of the Professor's wounds, the blood on his fingers. Why would Snape want to support Voldemort when he was treated like that? Why would anyone? It didn't make any sense to him and despite the fact that the man had proceeded to insult his intelligence, Harry found himself heeding the man's advice. Think logically, he had said. It wouldn't make sense to remain loyal to a blood thirsty maniac when someone like Dumbledore existed. Then again, it was said Snape had a deep appreciation for the dark arts. Who knew what type of sadistic thoughts the greasy git had. Still, he'd been friends with his mother. Clearly, he'd learned, that hadn't ended well. It wasn't hard to guess the whole 'death eater' thing was not something his mother would have been agreeable to. Yet, his mother had missed him if Aunt Petunia's words held any truth, which wasn't exactly trust inducing, but the fact she so blatantly despised Snape made it easier for him to accept. The man himself had admitted protecting Harry was in the name of his mom. For all his hatred toward James Potter, Harry had never heard the man say a single bad thing of his mother. The man never made mention of Lily Potter and the fact he refused to speak of it gave Harry the impression it wasn't meant to be a widely known fact.

Out of everyone he expected answers from, Snape had been the one to give him any thus far. None of his letter's to his friends had so much as answered a single one of his inquiries. So, Harry decided he would stick around the man. Truth be told, there was more to Professor Snape than being the bat of the dungeons. The thought settled uncomfortably in his stomach.

He blinked as they stepped into the house. Dark. Then, one by one, lights along the walls began to brighten the room. Though 'brighten' didn't seem like an appropriate description of the light's effect. If Harry had to use one word for the house it most likely would be: desolate. The odor, Harry was unsure of what was more prominent, was a mix of old, dust, and decay. The wallpaper on the walls was peeling and the carpet was no better off. Despite the fact that the area was most likely, at some point, of luxury standard - it made his cupboard seem like Hogwarts by comparison.

Harry's musing was interrupted when he walked into Snape. The man turned around to glare. Harry was mid apology when he realized, "I wouldn't run into you, if you'd stop stopping so suddenly!"

"Yes, I am to blame for believing you to have better reflexes than a first year Hufflepuff," Snape sneered, "Going forward, I will do well to remember your abilities are exclusively limited to the Quidditch pitch."

Harry grit his teeth and spoke without thinking, "You are so infuriating! I heard my mom was kind, but to be friends with you she must have been a saint!"

They both froze. Dumbledore, who Harry believed was paying no attention to them, whipped around. The silence was foreboding. At once, Harry and Dumbledore spoke.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I–."

"Severus, you told him?"

Snape had backed up into a wall. Harry was the most sincere he'd ever been with the apology because whatever his feelings for the man were, he'd been dear to his mother. His mother who had stood before Voldemort and taken the killing curse for him, had thought the man was worth befriending and even if in the end, they went their separate ways, she had missed her friend. He struggled with that image. What positive attributes did Snape have that could be missed?

The man undeniably cared deeply for her even after all this time, if she had brought tears to his eyes even now. Harry had seen them and he wouldn't have believed the man capable had he not been there. Harry half expected the man to sneer or even yell at him, but instead he was looking at him like he'd sprouted antlers from his head. There was a certain vulnerability he'd never seen lingering in his eyes and it gave Harry the thought that Snape knew and was shocked, his apology was sincere.

Then Dumbledore's question registered. Harry looked at the elderly man, "You knew?"

Harry wondered if heightened intelligence was a side effect of having one's mind read because he was having all kinds of thoughts and theories that he didn't exactly have concrete basis for, but just made sense. Dumbledore knew Snape and his mom were friends and he seemed shocked to find Harry knew. Perhaps, it was a bit of a stretch, but was it possible that the friendship between the two had caused the man to switch allegiance? Dumbledore who was such a strong believer in love and friendship had strongly affirmed he trusted Severus Snape. When prompted, he would refuse to say why he was so certain, but if said friendship with Lily Potter was the cause...

"We have more pressing matters than my friendship to Lily Potter."

They both turned to Snape. The professor was facing the floor and not those watching him. His eyes were closed too and the knuckles on his clenched hands were turning white. Every muscle on the man's arms appeared stiff. Harry watched with fascination as Dumbledore took a hesitant step forward, his hand rising to reach for the hunched over professor. Abruptly, Snape rubbed his face and Dumbledore stepped back. His face lost the worry lines and turned more serious. He suddenly seemed very human to Harry.

"To answer your question, I met Petunia." Snape told the headmaster, "Truly lovely, by the way. That is all."

Snape was giving Dumbledore a very pointed look. For the longest time, they didn't speak, but Harry had the feeling that they were communicating. Were they reading each other's minds? Eventually, they broke eye contact. Dumbledore made a small humming noise. Snape narrowed his eyes, but deflated as Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "And your state of dress, if I'm not mistaken...why Harry, that's one of your shirt's?"

Harry jumped at the man's unexpected question. Harry wondered if the old man was suffering from mood swings, "Er- yeah, Sn- I mean, Professor Snape's was ruined."

The headmaster looked like he was going to ask more, but it was then Molly Weasley rushed down the stairs. She seemed surprised to see them there, "Harry dear, you're here!"

She wasted no time and took him into her arms, "Thank goodness you're alright! How are you here? Albus, I thought you were having the order bring him here?!"

She side eyed Snape, her eyes wavered a bit at his state of dress. Harry could hardly blame her. Even now, it was weird to see so much of the man's skin exposed. He really could pass off as a vampire. Mrs. Weasley had pulled away from the hug and held him by the shoulders, but she was still looking at Snape. He followed her gaze and realized she had been staring at the dark mark peeking from the man's inner arm. The man cleared his throat, crossed his arms over his chest, and glowered at the red head. She shook her head, "Come along, dear. Have you eaten anything? Oh, you must be starving! Look at how skinny you are! It's still a bit early so the rest aren't quite up yet, but no matter...The kitchen's right this way. I can whip you something up while we wait for everyone else. Harry?"

Harry wasn't really paying attention to Molly Weasley. She hand pressed lightly on his back to encourage him to move. He was still and looking at both professors. The look Snape was give him was calculating and Dumbledore's eyes did the same to Snape. Harry softly said to Mrs. Weasley, "I'm not really hungry."

"That's alright, I can take you up to where you'll be staying instead."

The words had been said kindly, but Harry was determined to stay. He knew that if he let her get him out of the room, any flow of information he might have gotten would shut off. He took a deep breath and thought carefully. Think logically. The only person in this room that had given him any sort of information was Snape. The man had also denied him answers. Still, something was better than nothing and so, he agreed with himself. He shook his head and turned to Snape, "I want to know what's going on, sir."

Snape raised a single eyebrow. Both Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley shared looks of surprise at whom he had addressed. Nonetheless, Harry continued, "What is this place?"

There was much he wanted to ask. However, he thought better of asking more. He had bombarded the man with questions and Snape had shut him down. The man had never felt obligated to talk to him, so rather than press him, maybe a question at a time might be the key, or so he hoped. Harry wouldn't be able to control himself if he stayed a moment longer in the dark. The man seemed to understand as much when he replied, "The Order of the Phoenix is a society created to oppose the dark lord and his followers. The headmaster created it. This place is owned by your Godfather."

"Sirius?" Harry asked with bright eyes, "Is he here?"

Mrs. Weasley's face almost twisted into distaste, "He's probably still...asleep."

"Intoxicated, most likely," Snape sneered under his breath. Harry frowned.

"Headmaster, I think we should move our discussion somewhere a more secluded." Snape glanced at Mrs. Weasley in a manner that couldn't be described as anything other than deliberate. She flushed and her eyes glinted darkly. With a huff, she said, "Come along, dear."

"But-"

"Go on, Potter. Put away your things. I imagine Molly Weasley is more than capable of helping you remove the charm on your belongings. Once you've finished, the Headmaster or myself will call for you," Snape drawled tonelessly, "I have things to report that are not suitable for your ears."

Fury lit hotly in his stomach, "Watching Voldemort resurrected wasn't suitable for my eyes, but I still saw it! I deserve-"

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley interrupted, her eyes sad, "You're just a boy. You should be worried about school, not dark wizards."

Harry appreciated her concern, but he didn't need pity. He needed to know what was being done about Voldemort! Why couldn't she understand that? He clenched his fists. Dumbledore then spoke, "While you have valiantly faced many dangers, I do agree with Mrs. Weasley, my boy. You need not concern yourself with order issues. Professor Snape knows as much."

Harry opened his mouth and snapped it shut. He didn't say it, but Dumbledore was telling him plainly: do not ask questions. It hurt coming from him. He was no longer avoiding his eyes, but it didn't matter. He was still being ignored. The anger and frustration that had been brewing over the couple of weeks at the Dursley's hit him full force, "Why? WHY?! I NEED TO KNOW. I WAS THERE! I SAW CEDRIC MURDERED! VOLDEMORT USED MY BLOOD TO COME BACK! SO WHY WON'T YOU YOU TELL ME ANYTHING? I SURVIVED! DOES THAT NOT PROVE I CAN PROTECT MYSELF?"

"Harry-"

"NO!" Harry yelled hysterically. Dumbledore was stood frozen, looking alarmed. "I'VE SPENT THREE MISERABLE WEEKS WITH THE DURSLEY'S. I WAS ATTACKED BY DEMENTORS! SNAPE OF ALL PEOPLE IS THE ONLY ONE SAYING ANYTHING, NOT THAT HE'S ACTUALLY WANTED TO!"

Harry was breathing heavily. There was so much he needed to say, but he found himself at loss. An urge to pull his hair out filled him when Snape asked, "Are done throwing a tantrum, Potter?"

Mrs. Weasley glared at the man and Dumbledore sighed, "Severus..."

"I can't fight your mind thing, but don't I deserve to know something?" Harry asked Snape weakly.

Dumbledore was looking at Snape fiercely, "Severus, you-"

Harry felt the atmosphere change and for once, he was afraid of the Headmaster. He knew that the change was caused by Dumbledore. He was furious.

"Yes." Snape said calmly addressing Dumbledore with an eye on Harry. If he was intimidated, he didn't show it. Then he turned fully to Harry, "As for deserving, I have made my opinion on the matter clear."

Despite having spoken so softly, Snape's eyes were glaring. Harry noted that he was starting to look even more sickly than he had before. Gulping, Dumbledore's temper throbbing in the air still, Harry asked, "Will you tell me anything?"

Snape drawled coolly, "I already have."

Harry furrowed his brows. That's right. The prophecy. There's a prophecy about him and Voldemort. What did it say though? Harry opened his mouth, "Why is that important? Does he want it?"

"I will not answer questions now. I must speak with the Headmaster."

"But will you?" Harry prodded. He was practically begging and he knew it, but he couldn't find it in himself to stop.

Obsidian eyes commanded attention. Green eyes openly met them. Having felt a direct invasion once, Harry recognized the probe on his mind, much softer this time around. Harry thought he should feel at the very least irritated, but he didn't. Especially not when the man responded, "There are things you must be informed of, Potter."

Harry knew then he could allow himself to hope. Mrs. Weasley was watching the exchange with suspicion. Dumbledore's eyes were regarding both of them with interest. The magic no longer felt uncomfortable, however.

"Okay, I'm ready Mrs. Weasley."

The matriarch gave Harry a tight smile and lead him down the hall. Thankfully, she didn't ask him any questions. She seemed in a rush as she led him to an empty room. He allowed himself a smile when he saw Hedwig perched at the foot of the bed. Mrs. Weasley made quick work of enlarging his belongings to their original size before gently patting his cheek, "Breakfast shouldn't be too long from now dear, but you can get away with sleeping some more."

He blinked and she was gone. Sighing, he fell back on the bed wondering if this had been all a wild dream. His racing thoughts soon clouded with exhaustion. It was not long after he let himself be pulled into slumber.

Severus sunk on an armchair that looked older than himself and dirtier too. He hunched over, one hand on his knee and the other gripping the hair on the back of head. His eyes were watering and the room kept spinning. He gritted his teeth. How poorly the night had turned. The hand on his knee joined the other in gripping his hair. He inhaled heavily through his nose, his hands pulling at the greasy strands he clutched. Gradually, he began to suck air through his mouth in heavy gasps. Damn Petunia. He sunk his nails into his scalp. After all these years, she still managed to make rage prick his every nerve.

Potter knew. Potter knew. He pulled on his hair again and pressed his eyes tightly shut. By his own mouth. Severus had not revealed everything, but how long would it take the boy to go around? To tell everyone how he had managed to figure out Severus had turned his back on Voldemort for Lily, a muggle-born witch? How long would it take for Lupin or even Black to connect the dots, to humiliate him for his emotions, for that he couldn't control? How long would he have to explain, to retell and relive the grave error . . . the unforgivable mistake . . . he had made in telling the prophecy to his then master?

Severus dropped his hands from his head. He wanted to be angry at the boy. Severus grit his teeth. Yet, those words were ringing persistently in his head.

I would give anything! ANYTHING! If it meant that night . . .

Finally, with only Dumbledore in the room, the walls around his head crumbled. A cry was stuck in his throat. The face that he had so much hated and the eyes the he had so much loved, were speaking the same words he had so often thought and finally, his mouth let off a small, meek, and broken noise. He raised his gaze to the Headmaster. Obsidian eyes held a light moisture and his mouth was parted, shaky breaths puffing out. Severus' shoulders were raised against his neck and hands curled into his chest. Anguish was taking over the man, but his body refused to let go anymore than it already had. Dumbledore's gaze was unwavering as it was impassive.

Roughly, Severus attempted to steady his breathing, but another noise escaped his mouth. So many years, Severus had made it clear, he did not need the practice of compassion so many of his peers were so used to and expected from one another. Dumbledore had respected such desire and, Severus often suspected, was relieved. He had worked hard to earn the old coot's respect and that was as much as he allowed himself to hope for. After all these years, aside from the man's insistence on sticking his nose in his affairs, Severus hardly expected anything other than the impassive stare or even unsolicited advice. Yet this time, he saw Albus' eyes flicker. Hesitantly, the headmaster walked toward him.

An urge to lean back came over Severus, but he was frozen - transfixed. Gently, a wrinkly hand cupped his cheek. His body felt tighter. Blue twinkling eyes watched him. He felt a warmth in his mind and his body relaxed in response. Albus' eyes twinkled brighter and he whispered, "Sleep Severus, we will have time to talk tomorrow."

Severus frowned, he couldn't sleep yet. He had to tell Dumbledore about the dementors and Potter's dream, and the Dark Lord. His mind was open for the viewing and Dumbledore was looking—if the momentary sharpness of his gaze was anything to go by. Regardless, the man pushed Severus back into the arm chair, "Tomorrow, Severus. There will be time."

"Later." Severus said drowsily, "It's morning."

"Sleep, Severus."

Finally, his eyes closed as slumber overcame him.