Chapter 3

In the corner of his bedroom, the crumpled form of Harry Potter was attempting to stand. A vision had hit just as he had finished making dinner, and washing up for his relatives, and had lasted almost an hour. Voldemort's offer of an alliance with a vampire clan had been rejected, and he had been venting his fury on his Death Eaters. The pain alone, even with occlumency, had been enough to drive him to his knees.

One hand shakily found the firm support of the wall. Relying heavily on it, he managed to push himself to his feet. Extending a hand, as he had earlier in the morning, he drank a dose of post cruciatus potion he'd summoned. The liquid eased the pain to a dull ache that he knew would return later when the potion wore off.

Stumbling towards his potions kit, which was already set up, he pulled out the ingredients for a new batch of potion. Drawing a deep breath, he sank himself into the preparation of ingredients.

Severus smiled softly to himself as he lifted the last cauldron off the fire. He was in a better mood than earlier after the tranquillity of brewing. Automatically beginning to decant the potions into vials, he frowned as he considered what had been left unsaid in Harry's letter. There hadn't been a single mention of the boy's relatives, or his own health, although Severus could guess quite easily. The request for dreamless sleep suggested the boy wasn't sleeping, and the mention of a non-addictive version was troublesome. What had the boy meant by the visions "increasing in their physical toll"?

Severus had heard the rumours of the Golden Boy's less than perfect home life. In fact, his godson Draco had once mentioned something about a cupboard, and the youngest Weasley had talked about Harry being starved in the summer before their second year. He had always ignored the rumours, thinking that they were simply idle gossip. Now, he was not so sure. He remembered how the boy had returned each year, skinnier and pale. Harry had always cleaned efficiently during detentions, which was an unusual skill in a young child. Severus was worried.

He had always noticed that the boy reacted defensively to loud words, whether or not they were spoken in anger. It obviously pointed to abuse, but why hadn't any professors noticed before? It occurred to him that very few of the other professors had any experience in dealing with abused children. Slytherin was the exception, as most abused children were sorted into Slytherin.

Packing the potions into a small box, he included others: nutritional supplements, pepper-up potions, healing and strengthening potions, and a large pot of bruise balm, just to be safe. He didn't know whether the abuse had extended to physical. Realising he had worked through both lunch and dinner, he decided a visit to the kitchens wouldn't hurt. Arriving there, he asked one of the house-elves to send a message to the Headmaster that he would be visiting Harry Potter within the hour.

As the elves brought food, a squeaky voice interrupted his meal.

"Professor Snape? You is visiting Mr Harry Potter sir?"

Turning to look at the house-elf, which seemed remarkably familiar, Severus nodded in response.

"You must be taking this to Mr Harry Potter! Dobby is a good house-elf, looks after his masters!"

Severus was given a package, which appeared to contain a large amount of food. He raised an eyebrow. It seemed the house-elves were aware of Harry's problems at home but hadn't told anyone…unless Harry had specifically ordered them not to. He wouldn't put it past the boy, he had seen how Slytherin the boy could be.

Fawkes arrived, intruding on his thoughts. Grasping the tailfeathers, checking that the potions and the food package was secure, Severus was taken to the puzzling boy that was Harry Potter.

Harry had almost finished brewing his potion. The post cruciatus potion took two hours and twenty minutes to brew, and the pain was starting to return. Harry bit his lip in concentration as he reached the point where he needed to stir thirty times counter clockwise. His vision starting to blur in fatigue and pain, he willed his hand to stop trembling.

Twenty one…

Twenty six…

Twenty nine…

Thirty!

Reinforcing his slowly eroding pain barriers, he attempted to remove the cauldron from the fire, but found his trembling arms too weak. He was surprised as hands entered his narrowing field of vision, setting the cauldron to one side. His wand was immediately out and aimed at the intruder. Squinting through the pain induced haze, it took him several moments to recognise the stranger, but he didn't lower his wand.

"Professor Snape?" he questioned, mentally wincing at the hoarseness of his voice.

The man seemed to understand the silent question.

"You sent me a letter apologising for a certain incident last term"

Harry lowered his wand with relief, only for his legs to give out under him. Trusting Snape to catch him, he blissfully fell unconscious.

Severus saw the boy begin to collapse, and quickly moved to catch him. Picking the teen up, he was dismayed by the lightness of the boy's body. Looking around the room, he grimaced at the tiny bed and thin pillow. Still holding Harry, he managed to manoeuvre his wand out, allowing him to transfigure the bed into something more comfortable. Laying the boy down, he began coaxing healing potions down the boy's throat.

He had arrived just as Harry was completing the final stirs of the potion. His had immediately noticed the unnaturally pale face, and the beads of perspiration dotting the forehead. The stirring arm was trembling, belying the state of the nervous system.

Conjuring a cloth to wipe Harry's face, he froze when he saw the shadow of a bruise on the boy's cheek. Lifting the oversized shirt, he found more fading bruises along one side. Banishing the garment, he began to apply the bruise balm when he was startled by a croaked question.

"Who are you and what the hell have you done with my potions master?"

"Stop talking Harry, your throat needs to heal," said Severus, amused.

Harry glared, although he did not speak. His throat did hurt, and he could feel the soothing effects of the potions Snape had given him. The lack of pain allowed him to start rebuilding his occlumency barriers, which had been severely weakened by the compounded pain of several visions. Concentrating hard, Harry was disappointed at the extremely slow progress. He was simply too exhausted from the pain and the visions to construct any kind of suitable defence. Harry noted absently that the second voice in his head had been conspicuously absent since his last vision, which was unusual.

"Professor?" said Harry, pleased to find that his voice sounded much smoother. "I'm struggling to rebuild my occlumency barriers."

At the sharp look from his professor, Harry continued.

"I don't have the energy."

His professor's face softened slightly.

"You do realise, Harry, that we will have to form a mental bond in order for me to help you?"

Harry smiled in relief. For a moment he had feared the man would have rejected the implied request.

"I know. I'd prefer to have a bond with you than with the Headmaster," replied Harry.

Severus was curious exactly why Harry didn't trust the Headmaster. The two appeared to have held a close bond over the last few years until recently.

"Why exactly would you prefer me over the venerable Headmaster?"

Harry looked upset for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was filled with controlled anger.

"He's been keeping important information about Voldemort and my role in the war secret. He practically ignored me the whole year! If he hadn't, I might not have lost my godfa…"

Harry broke off mid sentence, still not wanting to face those emotions. To his shame, he felt hot tears pricking at his eyes, and he clenched them shut. He rolled away from his professor, burying his face into the pillow. Valiantly fighting to hold his tears at bay, he barely registered the man moving until he was being held securely in a caring embrace. A gentle hand rubbed reassuring circles on his back as, for the first time in many years, he began to weep silently. At last, Harry allowed himself to grieve for the loss of his godfather.

A/N: Just to clear up a few things:

This is NOT a slash story & Dumbledore is not evil, just a bit…misguided in the way he deals with Harry.

This is a repost of the chapter to correct an error that was pointed out to me by Alex & David305. Thank you for bringing my attention to this.