Young Severus Snape could not sleep. He lay in his bed, his sheets twisted around him uncomfortably, tossing and turning. His hair stuck to his sweat covered face. It was torture for him to think of Tom Riddle in the next room, likely thinking about him. He was certainly persistent, if nothing else. He was never supposed to come back. Life had been miserable since the incident; the last thing he needed to deal with was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Snape let out a quiet growl as he pulled himself out of bed and sauntered over to the closet door of his bedroom. Rather than clothes--for he had very few--the shelves were lined with jars and canisters of various ingredients, each meticulously labeled and sorted by his own, self-invented system. He snatched a spellbook from the top shelf, upon which were numerous books of that sort, and cradled it in his arms. His dark eyes poured over the cover, reading Potions For The Subconscious Mind. He swept through the pages, finally finding one with the instructions on how to concoct a powerful sleeping potion. Of course he could easily make a simple run-of-the-mill potion to cause fatigue and drowsiness, but Snape had become resistant to said recipes, much like an avid coffee drinker being resistant to caffeine. He needed something more potent, and this new, much-revered spellbook he'd purchased not two months ago always did the trick. Snape suffered terribly from the symptoms of insomnia and there was no doubt in his mind about what caused them.

An ironing board-like platform swung gently down from inside the closet and Snape began to toss the ingredients into a tiny, single-serving cauldron: tea extract, plantain juice, nimgrub pulp, dandytiger puree, eye of skrewt, minced harvabeans, dried lemon peel, mixed into a base of warm water, dried thestral milk, and sleepybrush oil. All this he stirred for twenty seconds clockwise, followed by two minutes and two sections counterclockwise.

The aroma from the cauldron made Snape's eyes droop. His head felt pleasantly light. He hardly even noticed when a veritaserus plant needle fell into the bubbling brew; the very ingredient listed on the next page to induce vivid dreams, on top of an extremely deep and impenetrable sleep. Blissfully unaware, knees wobbling beneath his gray night robe, Snape drank the cauldron in full, afterwards licking the frothy substance from his lips. Fatigue hit him like a wave of melted iron and it was all he could do to stumble backwards from the closet and land himself onto his bed. He clambered between the blankets and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Dreams flooded his subconscious almost instantly.

Severus Snape was sitting idly by a thick brush of trees on the edge of Hogwarts school grounds. The fifteen year old was completely alone and carving "LSFVR" into the dirt with a long stick that he held in a pale, white hand. In the distance, a few kids strutted up the field away from the Whomping Willow. Two he recognized as Sirius Black and James Potter. There were a few others he did not know. Tailing along at the end was the roan-headed Lily, one of his dearest friends since before they'd arrived at Hogwarts. Her hair cascaded carelessly down her back, blowing like her robes in the scented autumn wind.

"You are lovely," he whispered quietly, watching her intently from many yards away. She turned around, as if having somehow heard him, and waved to him, smiling largely. His heart fluttered and he felt warm inside.

Then he heard a twig snap somewhere behind him. He turned around, peering deep into the forest.

"Oi! Anyone there?" Snape's youthful voice rang out. Silence.

Suddenly, he was thrust to the ground and a dark figure raced past him, lunging up the field towards the castle. He looked particularly out of place, being much too old for a student and much too peculiar for a teacher. The running stranger had an air of mischief to him that some Slytherins can smell as keenly as a bloodhound stalking a criminal, as if their sixth sense might lead them to towards a chance to engage themselves in it as well.

Snape took off like a hippogriff on Bertie Bott's, running clear towards the sprinting culprit, his wand in hand. Snape was abnormally fast, his lean, muscular legs carrying him beyond the speed of an average boy. The man hardly had a chance as Snape closed in on him, launching himself onto his back and hollering"Arresto Momentum!"

The man stopped instantly and Snape soared awkwardly over him, landing face first into a nearby hedge. He scurried out to survey his victim, brushing his hair from his black eyes. The man was somewhat young, with dark, wavy locks. He looked handsome, in a snaky sort of way. His nostrils flared open and closed as he caught his breath.

"Who are you?" Snape asked, drawing his wand.

The man stared, his eyes wild like an animal's.

"Who are you?" Snape said again, more pronounced.

The man considered and then answered, "Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Snape seemed unsure of what to do next. He decided to ask, "Why were you running so fast?" It sounded strange. Anyone could run wherever they wanted to at Hogwarts. Why should he ask? But Snape held firm.

"I..."

"I can easily get the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, to figure it out," Snape threatened.

"No!" Tom snapped. Snape stepped back. "No don't," he said again, more softly.

Snape looked uncertain. "You're not a student here, are you?"

"No."

"Are you a teacher?"

"No."

"I'm going to get Dumbled--"

"What house are you in?" Tom asked suddenly.

"... Slytherin."

"I was too."

Snape was caught off guard. "Why..?"

Tom disregarded the question."Why are you alone, boy?"

"I... Well... I suppose..."

"... no one wants to be around you?"

Snape winced at the comment. He thought of Lily. That's not true. "Perhaps," he responded.

"Boy, what is your name?" Tom's snake-like eyes followed him as Snape shifted on his feet.

"Severus."

Tom almost smiled. "I need you to help me Severus."

"Why?" Snape clutched his wand tightly.

"How about I let you in on a little secret?"

"Umm... OK."

"Sit, Severus," Tom suggested, and he did.

"What would you do if you could have more power than any of your teachers combined, Severus? More power than even the entirety of the whole Ministry of Magic?"

Snape thought. "I'm not sure."

"Think."

"I suppose it would be OK."

Tom did not look convinced. "You haven't many friends, have you Severus?"

Snape shook his head.

Just imagine having the power to make everyone in the world like you. To be the greatest wizard that ever lived, to be the most adored and the most revered. To be the most famous. To be the most powerful."

Snape's dark eyes lit up. "To be the most loved." He thought of Lily.

Tom's eyes narrowed into slits. "Yes, I suppose." He surveyed him thoughtfully. "But my, you are, perhaps, a strange Slytherin... The point is power."

Snape was very intrigued. "But how..?"

"There is a wand. A very special and powerful wand. Legendary. Unmatched. And I'm looking for it. I need to find this wand, Severus, and I think it might be here at Hogwarts."

"So what can I do?"

Tom considered the question. "I'm going to stay here on the grounds. I want you to help me. Hide me. Bring me food, parchment, quills, information. Perhaps do some searching for me."

By then, Snape had almost already said yes. Here was a man that seemed to understand him, that was patient and interested in him, with ideas about power; the power to win over even most ignorant of people. Black. Potter. He swallowed. Lily. Someone needed him for what seemed like the first time in his life.

While lost in his thoughts, Snape hardly heard the remainder of Tom's instructions. "... and then I'd wait out here by the Whomping Willow..."

"Wouldn't that be dangerous?" Snape asked, fearing that he might have missed something vastly important.

"No. If you sidle up behind it, unseen--though that's hard to do--there is a passageway. Follow it to come find me."

"Where does it lead?"

"To the Shrieking Shack."

Snape nodded, his gaze intense.

"Severus. I know we've only just met, but I think we could really help each other out. More than you might think." Tom smiled, and Snape smiled back. "When you're alone, don't hesitate to come see me. I myself have been alone far too much these days and could use the company. Farewell, Severus."

Snape nodded and then waved as he scurried up the field towards the castle, a grin he swore would never cease to exist engraved on his face.

"Bye, Tom."

Snape stirred restlessly in his sleep, and then began to thrash in his bed. His body convulsed in a fit, his eyes still shut tightly, his skin lucid and white. He could feel panic rush through him as the potion wore off of his body. He began to moan and was soon screaming uncontrollably. Two arms grabbed hold of him roughly, holding him down, and his eyes flashed open. He lay still, in shock. Bright sunlight poured into his room, causing his head to sear with pain. He could see very little. When his vision returned, he saw Tom Riddle standing over him, looking rather severe.

"Tell me why you hate me."