A/N: Considering that people do not read fanfiction to reread the book, I have omitted Harry's journey through the Pensieve (though I have always been curious as to what was going through his head then, as we mostly receive description and not his actual emotions). Please refer to The Prince's Tale to learn what he saw, except for the part about murdering Dumbledore. And Harry DOES know now that it was Snape who revealed the prophecy. Please, please forgive me for how OOC Snape may be here. I know he's not the cuddly type. I promise you I really do… (Sniffles sadly). Thank you to each of my wonderful readers! You are the reason I am stressing so hard to get all this typed, and so quickly. Thank you!

VIII. Comfort

Then it vanished, it all vanished, and Harry found himself once again in the living room of Twelve Grimmauld Place, staring at the sallow face of a man he had just seen seconds ago, and half an hour ago. Harry was smiling. "That is the best birthday present I have ever gotten. Thank you." It was the honest truth. He knew what it must have cost Snape to show him all of that. He was, to say the least, a very private man, never open. But he didn't expect his words to have that impact. Snape looked startled, rocked to the core.

He had not been prepared for that.

"I'm the reason you have no parents, Potter. You have every right to be angry." But did he? This felt wrong to Harry, and then it hit him like a slap in the face. "That's how you do it, isn't it? You feel like you deserved it all." He was shaking, hard. How else could anyone withstand the Cruciatus, and whatever else that monster decided to do to his servants? He looked the man in the eye; it seemed like Snape couldn't breathe as he planted himself on the couch. He was trembling, too.

"You don't." And he had to know that. He had to. But he got no response, and so sat down too. "You loved her, didn't you?" He had no idea what made him say it at all; he knew it would cause unendurable pain, it just flew out. Snape met Harry's gaze. Harry knew the answer before it came. "It has not stopped." Snape's eyes closed in painful remembrance, and Harry felt the need, for some reason, to offer comfort. It was an instinct. "It's okay." Seeing someone normally hard as stone unable to control himself and in this vulnerable, weakened state was unbearable. "You swore to protect me."

This man had no reason to live, no reason to keep going, except… keeping him safe. And he had dedicated his life to that. "I intend to." That too was unexpected, and without meaning to (how did it happen, he really should have known better) Harry found himself up against Snape's side, and felt an arm around his shoulder. "I'm sorry." He had to say it. "So am I." And then both were lost in another world, Harry combing over and over again what he had seen. Anything. He would do anything. "I forgive you," he said then, "though you need to hear it from her. Well, what happened, it would have made her very happy." He was sure of it. But he wasn't sure, he scolded himself later, why he snuggled closer, or felt so incredibly safe here. He was pleased to find a steady hand stroking the back of his head. He was not sixteen today, no not yet, he had never been a child-

"Thank you. For everything." "There is no need, Potter." There it was again, but it wasn't okay, not anymore. "Please don't call me that. I never like it when you did, it was always just a name with the others, but you, you said it because I reminded you of him, I thought it was deliberately to sting." That had been buried very, very deep, but it was a day for subconsciouses boiling over. "I didn't know that." Well how could you? "And there is need," Harry went on, "because without you I would be dead and we would almost…" He was getting choked up now. "I almost never got a chance to say it. It could have been too late, I'm glad you showed me."

There was a serious lump in that throat he had… "Dumbledore puts a lot on your shoulders." Did he feel Snape sigh? "Oh, trust me, he puts a lot more on yours." But Harry was just shaking his head. "I don't think so. I mean, I don't have to lie to Lord Voldemort everyday. You're very brave." For once he wasn't corrected on the name, and he was shivering now, but he could swear he felt a reassuring squeeze on his arm. "Only cowardice drives one to the Dark Lord, Harry." The name- it- it made him go warm. He was a little boy again. "But you came back." A hesitation. "Yes, I did." Harry looked up; their eyes met, ebony staring into green. "I saw myself. That time fifth year in your Pensieve. My Dad was Dudley, fat and ugly, Sirius was Piers, joining in, that rat and his friend Pettigrew and Remus. And I… I was you." "I know." "It must be hard to get past it. But you don't-"

The words were broken up, he could barely get them out- "Hate me, do you?" It was still ringing in his ears. Lazy, arrogant, been crossing lines since he came to school... Quirrell again- Heavens yes, your father-

To his shock he felt himself being held, really held. "No, I do not." Relief flooded through him; it had never mattered so much. "Dumbledore was right, I saw what I expected to see. A big-headed, sneaky, pestering Quidditch star-" That gave Harry a new understanding. "That was why you were paying such close attention at my first game!" The revelation should not have been as surprising as it was. "I suppose so." "And then I went about being a thorn in your side, making your job so much harder-" "It is rather hard to protect someone always off into other people's business." Harry knew better than to laugh. "I was all those things," he said reflectively. "I did sneak around, I did pester, and I was good at Quidditch. I must have been a terrible disappointment as her son." He sighed, and could feel Snape's chest move as he sighed too.

"Honestly, you were more of a disappointment as his son. Inquizzitive, intelligent, eager- just like your mother." He had Harry's attention now. A compliment? From Professor Snape? "Did hell freeze over?" "Watch it, kid!" Harry was beaming now. It was hard not to laugh. "Don't push it, I know," he said, and without his permission a tear fell from his cheek, making a splotch on the black fabric of Snape's shirt. "I see her to, you know. In the Mirror of Erised," he went on. "Do you?" It wasn't really a question. They were sharing it, the moment, though Harry knew the other didn't want to, probably, not with him.

"You never looked." "No." Harry thought about this for a moment. "Dumbledore did that on purpose, leaving the door open so I could find it. That was a great idea, those potions and the riddle." "Not really, a group of eleven-year-olds got past it. And Dumbledore does a lot of things like that."

"He lied to me. He said that you worked so hard to save me that year so you could go back to hating my father in peace. But it had nothing to do with my father, and everything to do with my mother." "Quite observant, aren't we?" It was all coming together now, strung in little pieces; it all made sense, and was all spilling out. "Professor Snape?" "Yes, Harry?" He was using the name like a natural, like he'd always done it, and Harry couldn't help it. He smiled. "I'm glad I get to eb in your class next year after all. Though Potions will be quite different-" "Maybe- maybe I could tudor you." The past, all their differences, had fallen away, like a cloud lifting. Harry wanted to be close to his Professor then, suddenly, and knew it was mutual.

"My father was a no good, good-for-nothing-" "Harry?" "He stole her away from you." "Look at me." "I did that. Me. I cannot blame him, and you do not have to atone for his sin like you must mine- mine, because you were an orphan who was unloved and I cast my childhood on to you. You need to know this, so please listen. You'll return to yourself in the morning, but remember: I went crawling to him because he craved importance. Importance, and power. It was the worst mistake I ever made. It did more than cost me your mother, it cost me…" "Happiness," realized Harry, in twisted, awful understanding. This was a tortured soul he leaned on, who nodded sadly. That was when he started to cry, really cry, and someone whipped the tears, too on his afflictions, though they were afflicted themselves. And he rather liked it, being comforted, and before he could stop himself he shut his eyes. He was exhausted, drained, wanted to get as far away from the cold past as possible, never wanted it to end- he felt warm here, cared for, protected. But all the bitterness inside kept him from sleeping. He had nothing left to say, they had spilled all their secrets. Except- one thing he had forgotten-

"Did it work? Did he believe you?" Of course Snape knew exactly what he was implying. "Yes, it did. Though it will be a while before I am elevated to my former status." Unconsciously Harry shivered- he was being thrust back there, to that awful, murderous beast, that selfish monster who represented everything wrong with the universe. "I shouldn't be sorry," he said, thinking out loud (something he never would have felt comfortable doing with Snape before) "Dumbledore said your work is invaluable, and we need the inside intelligence, we need you, but… I am sorry." It stung, the realization that while the inhuman villain lived, this man could never be free, not ever, as long as he was in servitude to Lord Voldemort. He shuddered, but was stilled immediately by the sturdy arms around him. "We will defeat him. He was confidant, as sure as the moon hung in the sky. The reply was barely a whisper. "That will be the day."

It was okay, then, to drift off into dreams…

A/N: Please, please don't kill me.