Slowly, the fallen boy's eyes blinked open. As his head cleared, he panicked. No one was in the room at the time, but he didn't recognize his surroundings. Worse yet, bright white bandages were wrapped around his wrists and arms. 'What happened… why am I here" Harry tried to recall his last memory, and it came flooding back to him in a rush. He began to breath heavily. Struggling to sit up, he ripped the covers from his body. His shirt had disappeared, but his pants and socks were still on. He ran from the room, and right into a great ball of grease. Snape. Harry fell to the ground, wincing in pain, he clutched his arm.

"What's going on?" Harry exclaimed.

Severus looked rather alarmed. The sleeping potion he had given Harry should still have been in affect. Dumbledore had left; he had an errand to attend too.

Harry managed to stand again, and glared at Snape. He tried to walk around the greasy git but he blocked his way.

"It appears, Mr. Potter, that you have some bad habits. Habits, which have landed you here, in the comfort of my own, student-free, home." Snape sighed somewhat dramatically.

"Well I'm not here by choice, Snape, so why don't I let myself out?" Harry glared at his professor. And venom seemed to leak from his voice, when he said his name.

"That's Professor Snape, Potter, and I won't tell you again." Snape didn't like his attitude, or his lack of respect.

Harry said nothing. He quickly maneuvered himself around Snape's unkempt frame and towards a great oak door. A simple spell locked the door, and Harry spun around.

"You can't keep me here against my will! Now let me out or I'll-"

"YOU'LL WHAT POTTER?" Snape couldn't help but chuckle. "Hurt yourself again? Run away? Curse me? Go ahead and try."

Harry realized that Snape was not about to let him out of his home, and since he had no wand, cursing him was out of the question. So he did the only thing he could think of. He slumped down against the wall, covered his face with his hands and began to shank violently.

A twinge of pity ran through Snape's body as he observed the broken boy before him. Granted, his home life wasn't as he would have expected the boy who lived to have.

Harry laughed. "The boy who lived? MORE LIKE THE BOY WHO WASN'T ALOUD TO DIE!"

Now it was Snape's turn to panic. How did Harry learn to read his mind? Or had he said that out loud? He looked at the young boy in awe, and shock. For the first time, he actually looked at him. And this time he didn't see Harry's father, James. He saw a boy, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was crumbling, breaking, and no one had noticed. It was then that Snape decided he would try to help the young hero. It would take an intense desire to live, and a willingness to cooperate, but Snape was sure that he and Dumbledore, and all his little friends could get through to this broken spirit.