Harry had to stop himself whistling as he walked back to Gryffindor Tower. When he'd woken this morning, he had been filled with such dread and terror that he would have scoffed at anyone who said he would ever feel otherwise ever again. Snape, however, had fundamentally adjusted his attitude of miserable fear, and he had done so with admirable acuity. Being quashed spectacularly at chess, Harry had discovered, served as an excellent distraction when your opponent talked and guided instead of boasting loudly with every move.

The morning had begun with a nightmare, or the terror of waking from one. It had still been an hour before most of the school would be awake, and slightly longer before breakfast would be waiting in the Great Hall. Harry had woken from an exhaustingly terrifying vision of himself voluntarily taking the Dark Mark and doing untold things to his relatives as a reward. Upon waking, drenched in a cold sweat, Harry had immediately thought of Snape in the dungeons. This had seemed odd, at first, since, in the past, his first thought had always been to worry if anyone had heard him in the throes of his nightmares.

After a few minutes of internal debate, Harry had dressed quietly in the burnished glow of winter's predawn light. As he'd dressed, he'd come to understand why Snape had consumed his first waking thoughts. He was…his friend…as hard as that was to believe. In the past, Harry had hidden behind walls of false cheer after his nightmares, in part because he knew of no one who could understand. Snape did, though. He not only understood, but he felt real empathy, rather than pity. As he'd snuck from Gryffindor Tower under his father's Invisibility Cloak, it had never occurred to the lonesome Wizarding Savior to question his destination. He never thought to question if Snape would even be up, let alone willing to deal with the son of his youthful bane so early. Somehow, he'd known he would be, both awake and welcoming.

And Snape had been. Harry had knocked on the Potions Master's office door just as dawn's first light caressed the skies above Hogwarts, and the door had opened almost immediately. Harry had stood there sheepishly, no longer as sure about spilling the dark turn of his dreams, of burdening the former spy with his problems. He had, until now, never willfully sought the man out, preferring instead to let Snape question him whenever they had a moment alone. Snape, though, had gestured him inside with one long-fingered hand, and had closed the door behind him. Harry had stood, huddled in on himself, for a moment that seemed to stretch on into eternity. When he'd finally gathered the courage to look up, it was to discover that Snape had silently conjured a small table and two armchairs off to the side of the room. When Harry had looked at the man questioningly, he'd received a kind smirk, the sort that might've been a smile on anyone else's face, as a House Elf appeared with tea and scones.

They had sat down together, still silent, and Harry had nervously picked at a scone on the plate in front of him. Snape seemed in no hurry to make him speak, but Harry had known that eventually he would, even without prodding. It was impossible not to want to speak, when faced with such sympathetic silence. And, eventually, he had spoken. He'd described each horrendous detail of his dream, leaving nothing unsaid, not even the torture he'd put his relatives through.

Snape had listened, and when they had done with their light breakfast he had coached Harry as he had with every nightmare that came before. There had been no accusation of evil, either in his eyes or in his words, only a deep understanding. They had ultimately worked together to discover the source of the dream, and there had still been no accusations when Harry had admitted that, in his darkest moments in his summers trapped on Privet Drive, he had thought once or twice of switching sides, or just putting an end to his involvement entirely by running away or taking a long jump off a short pier. The Potions Master had understood this, too, and explained his own leanings toward premature self-sacrifice in the heat of the war. He had not called Harry selfish, or self-centered.

When conversation had died down, Harry had known he should leave. His friends would be looking for him, especially since he'd been gone from his dorm even before they woke and had subsequently missed breakfast. He also knew Snape had work to be getting on with, work that didn't involve 'pampering his student's worldview'. Still, he'd hesitated in the lull. The routine toil within the daily loam beckoned outside of the dungeon walls, but Harry had felt safe and secure for the first time since waking. He was not ready yet to put that security behind him and rejoin the world of false smiles and pretending nothing was wrong. Snape had somehow understood this, too.

"Chess?" The man had suggested softly.

Harry had blushed as a board was summoned from the man's rooms. "I'm bollocks at it. Ron is always beating me."

"Has he ever taken the time to instruct you?" Snape had asked pointedly.

Harry had had to really think about the question. It had never occurred to him before, because Ron was always coaxing him into playing by saying he'd never get better without practice, but no, the redhead hadn't ever taken the time to give him real lessons. Aside from the first few games they'd played, where Ron had taught him the basics of how each individual piece moved, he had never actually learned how the game itself worked. What he did know had been more from watching his pieces get slaughtered, and the few balking suggestions thrown out from the pieces themselves, than from any formal guidance. Finally, Harry had shaken his head and straightened in his chair as Snape set up the black and white marble game-pieces.

Snape had smirked knowingly. "Then perhaps it is time someone did."

They had played. For hours, Harry had watched his amateur defenses get slaughtered, but with each loss Snape would patiently explain where he'd gone wrong, and what he could do differently. At first, Harry took these suggestions as law and had continued to lose spectacularly. But, as time wore on and the lunch hour slipped by, he'd begun seeing the subtleties he'd missed at first. It was no different from Quidditch. Each piece had a job to do, and could do only that job, but there was nothing that said there was only one way to go about it. He'd still lost every game, even after discovering how a developing strategy worked, but each loss had been well-earned.

They had ended on the best game Harry had played to date, where he had nearly trapped the Potions Master in a stalemate if he hadn't forgotten the black queen still lurking in the corners of the board. Snape had congratulated him on his progress, and had proceeded to order another light meal to replace the second meal they had missed in the Great Hall. While they'd eaten, Harry had begun questioning the man on his experiments, which he had heard little of since their last remedial lessons over the Christmas holiday. Snape had been happy to oblige with explanations about his advances and setbacks, and they had laughed together over the nuisance of day-to-day interruptions. By the time Harry had left, he'd forgotten his nighttime terrors almost entirely in the wake of Snape's dark chuckles and bright companionship. Harry thought he could live through a lifetime of night terrors, if he could hear that brimming over of dark humor ever day when he woke. And he didn't find this thought in the least bit odd, because Snape was his friend…as hard as that still was to believe.

When Harry walked into Gryffindor Common Room, he was immediately accosted. Ron, Hermione, Dean, Ginny, and Neville, surrounded him, their proximity making him so uncomfortable as to make him wish he'd come in wearing the silvery cloak tucked into the pocket of his robes that would have let him go unnoticed. He managed a careful smile.

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione demanded. "We've been worried sick! You weren't in your dorm, and you missed breakfast and lunch."

"I-"

"Seriously, mate, I thought you'd been kidnapped!" Ron threw in, interrupting him.

Harry backed away as his friends pressed closer. "I…It-I haven't been anywhere, I was just-"

"Don't feed us that, Harry," Ginny said crossly. "We looked everywhere, even the Hospital Wing."

"What the hell were you thinking, disappearing like that?" Dean said hotly.

"W-we really were w-worried, Harry," Neville added almost hesitantly.

Harry frowned with a sigh and gestured his friends away from the prying ears of the rest of the Common Room. They followed anxiously, as he led them to an unoccupied corner. With another sigh, Harry spoke in low tones.

"Look, I'm sorry I worried you guys, but I really am all right," Harry said. "I'll tell you where I was, but I'd rather it didn't get spread around the school."

"We would never do that," Ginny swore.

Harry nodded. "I know you wouldn't, at least not intentionally. I was in Snape's office."

"All day?" Neville asked incredulously.

"I wondered why you were both gone from the meals," Hermione commented.

Harry nodded again. "I had a really bad nightmare, worse than anything I've had since Voldemort's visions stopped," He admitted. "I already told you how Snape's been helping me cope with my nightmares, and when I couldn't shake this one I went down to see him. He helped talk me through it, and after that he took my mind off of things by butchering me at chess for a few hours. I'm sorry I just vanished on you, but I wouldn't trade the last several hours for anything, not even your peace of mind. Are you satisfied?"

His friends nodded almost reluctantly, Neville and Hermione looking hurt while Ron and Ginny looked slightly affronted. Harry ignored these sullen looks.

"Good," He murmured. "And I really am sorry for worrying you. But you can't tell anyone where I was, understood? I don't want to give Malfoy anything else to encourage the rumors he's trying to start about me and Snape."

"We understand, Harry, we won't say anything," Ginny said softly.

Hermione chewed her lip. "But, Harry, there isn't anything to these rumors Malfoy's spreading, is there?" Harry scowled. "I just mean…it's awfully odd that you and Snape are suddenly being friendly. And Snape has really backed off of Gryffindor since Christmas, when you spent almost every day in the dungeons with him…"

"Geez, Hermione!" Harry growled angrily. "Why would you even suggest such a thing?" The witch flinched visibly, but this did not stop Harry's anger. "Am I not allowed to have one good thing without you turning it into a goddamn conspiracy?! Do you all think I'm taking it from Snape for better grades or something?"

None of his friends would meet his eye, and Harry gaped at them angrily.

"It-it's just…really weird, Harry," Neville spoke in a barely audible whisper.

"I can't believe you guys!" Harry shouted, forgetting they were still in the common room. He pushed past his friends and started towards the dorm. He took no notice of the curious looks from the other Gryffindors in the common room, or the hesitantly suspicious stares from the friends he'd left in the corner. It never struck him that he'd forgotten to actually deny the accusations of his friends, or what this failure of denial might put in the minds of the five Gryffindors.