Chapter 31: In Which Harry Has An Actual Conversation With Snape

 Harry followed Snape down the winding corridors into the dank dungeons which seemed all the more creepy at night. He noticed that they passed the same stretch of wall that led to the Slytherin Common room; at least he thought it was. He followed Snape down a winding staircase to what appeared to be another set of rooms.

"Ah, Severus," said the painting, a man who appeared to be from the Victorian era, "Lovely evening, isn't it?"

"I don't have time to chat right now, Prichard" said Snape to the portrait.

Prichard didn't seem to meet him. "Ah, and who might you be?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer but was quickly cut off.

"Of course, Harry Potter," said the portrait, "Sevvie, you never said you were planning on company?"

"It was a spontaneous thing," growled the man, "Now if you don't mind we have to be going  in."

"Ah, yes," said the portrait. "Nice to meet you, Potter. Prichard Hemmingway."

"Er, you too," Harry managed to say to the rather exuberant portrait. He seemed to clash with Snape's personality.

"Bhanutej Badaia," Snape finally barked at the portrait causing it to swing open.

Harry thought he heard him mutter something like "Damn Dumbledore and his cheery portraits." He followed the man, unsure of himself in these new surroundings. Snape motioned him to sit on the black couch before he disappeared into another room. Harry obeyed and surveyed his surroundings while he waited. The place was not adorned by much though the book shelves were full. Harry felt a smile tugging at his face as he noticed the copy of Most Potente Potions. He certainly remembered Hermione and her cat tail as well...

 Snape returned from the kitchen carrying to steaming mugs that Harry recognized as tea. The man handed one to Harry before sitting down opposite of him and taking a sip. He looked at Harry who was warily studying his mug.

"No need for such inspection, Potter," said Snape. "I assure you that there is no veritaserum lurking there."

 Harry obeyed and took a sip which warmed him up considerably. Then he realized, Snape had made a joke?! He almost choked on the tea but managed to swallow without too much difficulty. How strange this was.

"I suppose you are wondering," said Snape, "Why you have been brought here."

Harry nodded.

"You are continuing to have nightmares," said Snape and Harry nodded again, becoming filled with shame. "Distressing ones obviously because it takes more than any normal dream to set off the new wards we placed." Harry stared at the pale carpeting, nodding again.

"What is it Potter," Snape inquired carefully, "That these dreams are about?"

 Harry looked up at him in shock. Few people asked outright what he had dreamed, or even asked at all. Now he was supposed to explain to the man who hated him? This was a very strange evening.

"You may as well answer," said Snape, "As Dumbledore is considering making this a regular thing."

"W-what," asked Harry in shock.

"Never mind that now," said Snape. "Now explain."

"They used to be about my parents deaths after the dementors," Harry explained quietly. "Then there was the Tri-wizard as well, and now ever since, well since this summer it's b-been about my uncle."

 Snape had difficulty hearing Harry, but all the same he heard.

"And what do you dream about your uncle?" asked Snape. Harry stared at him blankly wondering how oblivious someone could be. What did he think the dreams were about? Honestly...

"Flashbacks mostly," he admitted. He felt his face grow hot as he tried to explain. "Or he's managed to come back somehow, or I have to go back there. I know it's stupid but.."

Snape sighed, "It's not stupid. It's only natural in that kind of situation."

 Harry just continued to look at Snape oddly, wondering why on earth the man was talking to him about all of this. "I really don't want to talk about it," he said though he felt compelled now to do the opposite. "Perhaps I should go now." He moved to stand.

"Sit down," said Snape and Harry obeyed. "You have to talk about it eventually. You can't just forget about it."

"Want to bet?" said Harry.

"At least you still have a sense of humor, Potter," said Snape.

"Yes," said Harry, trying to sound overly serious, "I'd probably dead without it."

"Indeed, Potter. Indeed." Snape remembered the marks on the boys back. "I suppose you ran out of the potion I gave you by now?"

Harry nodded.

"How long ago?" asked Snape.

"A couple weeks ago," replied Harry, still studying the carpet of the room.

"Did it occur to you to come back for more?" inquired Snape.

"No," said Harry quietly.

"And why in god's name is that?"

Harry mumbled something incoherent.

"Speak up, boy," said Snape in a soft tone, though Harry flinched anyway.

"I didn't want to be a bother sir."

"I see," said Snape. "Now why did you flinch just now?"

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"Come on boy, answer me honestly," said Snape, and Harry recoiled again. "What is it?" he exclaimed.

"He used to call me that," said Harry quietly. "Never Harry, or even Potter, just boy. Like I didn't have a name."

"I will refrain from using the term then," said Snape. "Now if you'll wait a moment..."

 He disappeared off into another room before reappearing with a jar.

"This is the best I can do for the scars now," said Snape. "It's just a simple balm to put on them."

"Thank you," managed Harry, taking the jar from his outstretched hand. "What did you mean about this being a regular thing?"

"Dumbledore is right in thinking you have to talk," said Snape. "From now on you may be required to meet with certain teachers when you manage to set off the distress alarms. He would also have it that you go to one of them when something is troubling you."

Harry nodded. "Which teachers?"

"McGonagall, Flitwick, and I, for a few," said Snape. He smirked at Harry, "Of course I believe Trelawney would love the chance as well. You could always request her."

Harry looked at him in abject horror before realizing he was joking again. He managed a week smile, though he was still puzzled. Professor Snape, of all people, joking?!

"I suggest you go back to your dorm now," said Snape.

Harry nodded and was ushered to the portrait hole. "Goodnight Professor."

"Goodnight, Harry," said Snape, closing the portrait behind him.

 It was not until he had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that he realized why Snape's goodnight had seemed so odd. The potions professor had actually used his first name...

~*~

  Severus Snape sat berating himself in his chambers once more. He couldn't help feeling guilty, but he hated feeling guilty. Life was truly unfair. All he'd try to do was to hate the boy in peace, but now he realized that Harry was not the same as his father. Even though he looked like a mirror image, except for the eyes of course, Harry was a very different person. He also felt guilty for not noticing. The boy had shown all the obvious signs. But he'd managed to make himself believe that he was doing it for attention. And all that to console myself, thought Severus, and over a childhood grudge. In doing so he had passed up countless opportunities to help Potter. If it had been almost anyone else he thought he would have caught on quickly, and had them away from whoever was hurting him before the summer holidays. Only for Harry nothing had changed for four years. Damn, did I screw up, thought Snape. At least he was trying to help now. Though he wasn't sure Harry wanted his help. He definitely didn't picture himself as someone to confide in. At least he had given him the balm. That was only for physical scars. Harry had a lot of emotional ones to deal with now as well it seemed. He'd never known that nightmares would be powerful enough to set off the distress wards. Harry Potter must have been having some very powerful dreams.  Eventually he brewed himself another cup of tea and went off to bed.