Here you are, another chapter. Apparently they're getting better. So says Daggy, who has been reading all the chapters in advance. I have a request. . .if you love music, get 'To Record Only Water for Ten Days', the album by John Frusciante of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Honestly, it is perhaps the best album I have ever had the pleasure of hearing. It's totally unique but beautiful, but you can only get it off the Internet (well, in the UK at least. Maybe it's for sale in the US). But anyway, buy it. You really won't regret it, and it is very inspirational, making me write loads of stories. Maybe even slash, soon *winks at those who have begged* but not in this story, will try a new one. Please, those of you who are for slash, tell me how you want it. . .post-Hogwarts, in Hogwarts, AU? You need to tell me.

Dedicated to Diagonalist for her increasingly kind comments, and also for writing an extra large chapter of Splinters. If you haven't read it, please do so already!

*ahem* on with the story then. *Author groans as everyone runs off to find update of Splinters*

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"Harry"

Harry turned over, unwilling to register the presence of the universe. He was warm and snug, and had no wish whatsoever to face the world.

"Harry"

Still the voice was coaxing; a man's voice, rich in timbre and soft as silk.

"You have to wake up sometime."

It was starting to sound a little annoyed now, but Harry didn't care. Let the man beat him. He snuggled further into the warm cocoon of the blankets, then felt a weight pushing the bed down.

"Harry, I know you're awake. Look at me."

Harry unwillingly raised his eyes to see Snape. No, this was not Snape. This must be the Severus that the other Slytherins talked about so wistfully. Gone was the sneer, the lines of worry. This man was almost. . .handsome. His hair was soft and clean, pulled back from his face by a length of black silk. His eyes were gentle, and in the candlelight Harry could see that they were a welcoming black, velverty and warm. Why on earth had they seemed like tunnels before? His face was smooth and clean-shaven, and he had obviously just showered as he wore a green towelling robe monogrammed with a double S in silver.

"Good morning" he said, his voice rich and warm. Harry suddenly felt the insane urge to trust this man, to pour out his heart and soul, to trust Severus to keep them for him.

"Good morning, sir"

"Please, call me Severus. First of all, I believe I owe you an apology. I am so very sorry for the way I have treated you; I was overcome by irrational hatred for your father, so much so that I could not see you yourself as a separate person."

Harry's throat constricted, and he merely nodded, blinking quickly. Nobody had ever apologised to him. Nobody had ever talked to him so kindly. He didn't know how to take this affection, how to accept it.

"Harry? Are you still in there?"

There was amusement in Severus' voice, but unspoken concern in his eyes, and Merlin didn't he know how much it hurt the part of Harry that had been suppressed for so long, the part that longed to trust? He didn't know how to face the idea that anyone could care about a murderer. He wasn't a nice person. He wasn't 'right', 'brave' or 'good'. He was a misfit, and a freak. He knew it; it had been said for so long that it had to be true.

Harry nodded again, still blinking the tears back. He hated crying. It was a sign of weakness.

"Alright then" said Severus, still looking slightly suspicious, "I need to finish healing your back. . .most of the bruising is gone, I just need to clear it all up. Will you lie on your front?"

Harry acquiesced quickly, so quickly that he almost suffocated himself. Severus chuckled and moved the pillow off Harry's head.

"Here, put it under your chest, it'll support you better there. I'll try not to hurt. . .it should be better than last night."

Harry revelled in the touch of the warm hands, kneading his muscles out. Several bones in his back popped in relief, and he felt the instantaneous relaxation.

"You're so tense" said Severus, in that smoky voice. "So tight, so stiff."

Harry froze. He could remember those words. He didn't want to. Severus' hands had stilled.

"Harry? Are you alright?"

Harry shook his head, and rolled away from Severus, feeling the bile rise. Clapping a hand over his mouth he staggered to his feet, seeing a sink behind an open door. Ignoring Severus' call, he raced into the bathroom and threw up violently, trembling. No, he would not remember. Didn't want to. . .

But he fell into memories anyway, and his skin grew pale, cold, clammy. And he thought he was going to drown until he was surrounded by dry warmth. Gentle hands grasping his, arms wrapping around his waist. A few silky strands of black hair brushing his forehead, a deep voice. Soothing words.

"Harry, come on. Let's get you back into the warmth, hmm?"

Harry tried to muster up the energy to nod, but felt totally drained. Felt like sobbing. No! Wouldn't cry. Severus had to carry him because he was so weak, and all he could do was loll against the older man. Some Slytherin.

He didn't realise he had spoken the last part aloud until Severus put him down and turned his face so that they were eye to eye.

"Being a Slytherin doesn't mean you cannot be weak, Harry. And you are not weak. You are very strong."

He brushed Harry's hair off his face.

"Trust me, Harry, you are strong. Almost too strong for your own good. Now, I have to finish with the lotion, and then I have to teach. You need to rest. May I give you a sleeping draught to help?"

Harry nodded numbly. He was strong? Of course he wasn't. Severus was just saying that. Severus was lying. He didn't care. He wanted more of that warmth. Snape even smelt warm, of cinnamon and other spices, a little musky.

"Drink this" said Snape, putting a vial next to Harry. "I'm going to get changed. I'll be back periodically to see how you are."

Harry nodded, a plan forming. A very stupid one, but. . .

As soon as Snape had gone, he grabbed another vial, decanted the potion into it, his it, and laid the empty vial which had a few drops of potion in the bottom on the table. Then he lay back, feigning sleep. He felt Snape leave a few moments later, and stole into his bedroom, eyes glinting. There was the bathrobe, full of Snape's smell. He snatched it, and carried it back to the bed on the sofa. Then he took the potion and fell into a deep sleep.

Severus came back after his first lesson to find Harry curled up in sleep, clutching something. Frowning curiously, he moved closer, to find that it was his bathrobe. Snorting with laughter, he left for his next lesson, pleased to see that Harry was sleeping contentedly, even smiling.

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The sight plagued him, though. Had Harry actually felt safe with his cloak? Resolving to ask his charge later, he tried to concentrate on his class.

But an image of the little boy smiling made him unable to pay attention.

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"How is he, Severus?" asked Draco, grey eyes looking up mournfully at Severus. The master smiled and patted Draco's head.

"He's much better, Draco. Just very tired. I'm sure he'll be back in class by tomorrow. Speaking of which. . ."

Draco looked at his watch, gasped, and ran.

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Harry was awake and sitting up when Severus came back. The green robe was gone, folded neatly in the bathroom. Severus smiled and sat down on a chair.

"I came in earlier. You looked like you were sleeping well."

Harry flushed, realising what the words meant. And he spoke frankly, surprising Severus.

"You smell warm. All like cinnamon and spices. Like a warm bath. I didn't feel the coldness or fear when you were there."

To say Severus was amazed would be an understatement. He was absolutely speechless. Him, warm! He chuckled, and Harry smiled.

"See, you even sound warm."

Warm. After so much coldness. Maybe there was some hope for a miserable old ex-Death-eater. Maybe.