A/N: Hey all! Sorry it has taken so long, but life's been so busy. But at last I have the next chapter. It's only been about a month and a half since the last chapter, that's not too bad! This one is going to be kind of emotional and Snape will be acting differently than we are used to, but keep an open mind and consider this all from his point of view. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize I do not own.

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Once he finally made his way back up to the tower (going down was always much easier than going up) he collapsed into an armchair by the fire and opened the book Snape had given him, which seemed to have gotten heavier with every step he'd taken. As Snape had said, there was an entire section devoted to hair-growth potions and Harry quickly found what he needed for the assignment. Too bad Potions hadn't been this easy before.

As he sat there, he could feel himself drifting off as sleep threatening to pull him into its painful grasp.

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It had been about two weeks since Snape had given Harry the potions book to use on his assignment and, while the book had all the information he needed, he had just today finished the essay. It normally wouldn't have taken him that long but every time he tried to write the exhaustion caught up with him and his arm seemed to weigh five times more than it should.

If he had calculated correctly, it had been over a month since Harry had started having those awful dreams and the effects of it were apparent. He hadn't slept for longer than one unrestful hour any night, except for when Snape would give him the Dreamless Sleep Potion. But that wasn't often—certainly not often enough to make much difference. Harry could tell that it was affecting his mind and mood. He had been grouchy lately, which was understandable considering the lack of sleep, and had even snapped at Snape a couple of times, and he knew he had to be mental to do that. Luckily, Snape usually just ignored him when he did that.

Harry didn't think that he would have ever believed it, but Snape was actually being slightly above bearable and, at times, even an enjoyable presence. There were times when he would let Harry just sit in the comfortable chair in his office staring into space (like he was now) and, if Harry started to doze off, he would reach across the desk and shake him a little to keep him from falling into a painful sleep. It was almost as if Snape was watching out for him like a parent would, or maybe a godparent.

As Harry thought of this his heart began to ache and it had nothing to do with Voldemort, well in a way it did, but not like his other pains. He missed Sirius something awful. Every so often he would daydream about what it would be like if Sirius were still around. He could be here with him through all of this. While Snape was bearable and at times likeable, Harry loved Sirius. While in his mind Harry knew that Sirius couldn't miraculously find a way to cure this, his heart told him that Sirius could do anything. He could take the pain away; he could make everything better. At least Harry wouldn't feel so alone. Sirius would be there for him every time he woke up in pain. He would hold him and tell him everything would be all right.

Harry knew he was foolish for wishing such things. Sirius was gone and he was never coming back. Besides, he was nearly of age and he shouldn't need someone to hold him. But, damn it, he'd never had someone like that before, and he never would. It was his fault Sirius had died; he had gotten him killed.

Suddenly Harry realized that tears were sliding down his face and he remembered where he was. He quickly tried to wipe them away without Snape noticing, but it was silly to think anything would go unnoticed by him. He looked up from a thick, leather-bound book that appeared to have blood splashed across the cover and met Harry's gaze before the boy quickly looked away.

Damn it! Harry thought. He'd seen him crying. Shit, that was just one more thing for his list of subjects to torment Harry on. Poor Harry Potter can't even sit in silence without crying. However what came out of his professor's mouth shocked the boy.

"You want to talk about it?" Snape asked quietly and without malice. Harry shook his head. How could he talk about missing his godfather to this man? He hated Sirius and he'd probably never missed anybody in his entire life. The man shrugged. "You should."

His comment surprised and confused Harry. "Sir?" he asked, hoping the man would elaborate.

Snape sighed. "You should talk about it, whatever it is that you are thinking about. It isn't good for the soul to have so much bottled up inside you. It's not healthy."

"But, Sir…" Harry replied, sounding skeptical. He expected Harry to talk to him? Apparently Snape knew what he'd been was thinking.

The man sighed again. "I know we haven't always had the best of relationships, but as it is still the summer and none of your irritating little friends are here—and even when they are you won't be able to tell them everything—it's just you and me here. Like it or not, Harry," he paused for a few seconds, "I'm all you've got."

For a few minutes they just stared into each other's eyes across the desk, both lost in their own thoughts and wondering what the other was thinking.

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Did he really just say that? Surely Harry was hearing things. It sounded as if Snape had just invited him to talk to him about how he was feeling. Disturbing as that thought was, Snape was right in that he was all Harry had. Nobody else would be able to understand what he was going through. There really was nobody but Snape. And he had called him Harry. What was that about? Snape had never called him Harry! It was always Potter or Mr. Potter, or any of the rude names he'd called him over the years. He'd never used his first name before, especially not in a kind tone. Did that mean he was serious? Could Harry really confide in him?

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As much as he hated to do it, Snape knew that he had to let the boy open up to him. What the boy was facing was enormous and he didn't have anybody else to talk to. Snape knew was it was like to be alone—he'd been alone most of his life. He had Dumbledore around to lean on at times, but Snape hated to show weakness. He'd noticed that the boy was actually a lot like himself. He always tried to hide his weaknesses as well, even if that meant a long walk through the castle that drained all of the energy from him. And his eyes… Snape had realized a few weeks ago why the boy's eyes had seemed so familiar, and not just because they were the green of Lily's eyes. They were his own eyes. Lily's green mixed with his sorrow, pain, and resignation that nobody, especially not a boy so young, should have to endure. He had purposely used the boy's first name hoping that it would get the boy to talk. It felt weird talking to him like a man, rather than a student, a boy. He wasn't that anymore; his childhood had ended long ago, possibly before it even began. But would the boy talk to him?

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They continued to stare into each other's eyes, neither one of them wanting to break the silence, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Finally Harry spoke. I guess I can trust him. I guess I don't have a choice, he thought.

"I miss him." He stated, still holding the gaze. That sounds so pathetic; Snape is going to think you're just a little crybaby now, he thought. He looked down at a string hanging from his pants that he'd started playing with self-consciously. He wasn't sure when he started caring so much what the man thought, but at this moment it seemed very important.

"Your godfather?" Snape questioned, though he sounded as if he already knew where Harry was going with this. Harry nodded.

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Snape sighed. He was bad at this. He'd never been the comforting type, but the boy needed him to be. As Snape thought about it, the boy did have an awful life. He'd lost both his parents, and then lost his godfather who had become like a father to him and he probably blamed himself for that. And in between he'd had to fight the most powerful dark wizard of the time on multiple occasions and deal with the newspapers reporting on every little thing he did. And then there was the constant threat on his life and now this—dealing with nightly excruciating pain with no friends to talk to, only his most despised professor. He was really alone and, though Snape hated it, he needed him.

Snape got up and walked around the desk to sit in the chair next to Harry, but he couldn't think of what to do or say. He'd never done this before and everything he'd heard other people say to comfort people all seemed lame and inaccurate. 'Everything is going to be alright' definitely wasn't true and the boy knew it.

"I wish he could be here," the boy whispered, still looking down at his hand playing with the string on his leg.

Snape sighed and placed his hand atop the boy's to still it. "I know," he said quietly. The boy looked up and their eyes met again. Tears were leaking from the corner of his eyes, but the boy didn't seem to care anymore if he saw that.

The boy began to cry harder and looked down. He shook his head slightly. "It's too much. It's all just too much sometimes. I can't deal with it. It's just too much. I don't—I cant—" The boy started breathing faster as he was rambling and Snape worried that he was starting to hyperventilate. "I can't do it. I can't live like this. It's too much." His body started shaking and Snape could tell he wasn't thinking clearly.

"Harry," Snape called, trying to snap him out of it, but the boy didn't seem to hear him. His breathing became very labored and his heart looked like it was going to beat right out of his chest. Snape realized that the boy was having some sort of panic attack.

Harry started gasping for breath. "I can't—breathe," he panted.

Snape put his arm around the boy's small shoulders and pulled him close in a sort of one-armed hug. Normally the thought of hugging someone would have repulsed Snape, but this felt right somehow. The armrests on the chair were in the way so Snape quickly pulled his wand and vanished them, allowing the boy to lay more against the man's chest. "Come one, Harry. Relax, breathe with me," Snape whispered to him.

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Harry could feel a strong arm pulling him gently against the man. It woke him from the sort of daze he'd been in and his mind began to clear. Merlin! Was Snape hugging him? His body initially tensed in response, but then he relaxed. Human contact felt good. Aside from the occasional pat on the shoulder from Dumbledore when he'd been here, a goodbye hug from Hermione at the train station had been the last time he'd… felt that somebody cared about him?

That when Harry realized the truth: Snape really did care about him. He cared more than just as a problem that needed fixing and more than just as Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world. With that realization he leaned further into Snape's chest, letting him hold all of his weight. He could trust this man; he knew he could.

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Snape felt the weight of the boy—light as that was—fall against him as the boy relaxed. For a moment the boy looked at peace and he began to drift off to sleep, still leaning against the man. Snape sighed and smiled slightly. Maybe that was all that the boy needed. He didn't need comforting, hollow words; he just needed somebody to be there for him.

Snape sat there for a few minutes as the boy slept, wondering if he would ever be able to find a way to ensure the boy could sleep peacefully again forever. Even as he began to consider it he could feel the boy tense against him and a moment later he let out a gasp of pain then clenched his jaw. A moment later he let out a scream.

Quickly, Snape began to shake the boy in attempt to wake him up. "Harry!" he called to him, but it didn't seem the boy could hear him, so he shook him harder and called to him louder. After four tries, he finally managed to wake him up and he sat there with his fists balled tight as spasms went through his body from the pain.

Snape reached out and touched his shoulder and the boy jerked away from him automatically, but his eyes and fists remained clenched. Snape put his hand on his shoulder again, this time ignoring the jerking away and pulled him back against his chest and held him there until the spasms eventually stopped and his fists unclenched. The boy's head rested on his professor's shoulder.

Eventually the boy spoke. "I hate my life," he rasped, sounding defeated.

"I know, Harry. I know," Snape whispered into his ear. They sat there for a few minutes in a comfortable silence. Snape wished there was something more he could do for the boy, anything at all, but he knew there wasn't.

"I don't think it took as long for the pain to wear off this time." Harry said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"The pain is gone already?" Snape questioned. That was odd, normally there was residual pain that lasted for hours after the boy woke up, and it had only been around half an hour.

"Well, not completely, but mostly. It felt like the nightmare was shorter than usual though, so that might be why. Did you wake me up during it?" Harry asked, sounding thoughtful.

"Of course I did. I wasn't going to let you just suffer," Snape replied. Did the boy really think that he wouldn't try to stop it?

"Maybe that's the answer, then." Harry said, sounding like he was drifting into sleep again.

"The answer?" Snape asked. What was the boy talking about?

"Yeah, the answer. Every time I start the scream just wake me up," he answered, sounding more asleep than awake. "Sir? Can I have the potion tonight? Please?"

"Yes, of course," Snape replied as he accioed it from his desk drawer so that he wouldn't have to get up and disturb the boy. He handed it to Harry and he drank it down in two big gulps. He set the bottle down on the desk and sighed as he fell into a deep, restful sleep, still leaning against Snape.

Snape looked at the clock on the wall; it was only 3 pm but he supposed it would be easy for the boy to lose track of time when he never slept. Snape sighed, realizing he needed to get back to work pouring over the texts. He pulled his wand again and conjured a cot in the corner of his office then stood, cradling the boy's body against his chest and laid him down on it. He then conjured a blanket and draped it over the boy, who was sleeping peacefully for once.

He looked down at the boy and thought about how strong he was. He had endured all of this with such vigor; it was incredible for a boy to do. Most adults would have already been driven mad by it, but he kept moving on. True, the sleep deprivation was getting to him, which had probably led to the breakdown he'd had earlier, but overall he was handling the situation remarkably. Most people wouldn't even be able to handle the lack of sleep, let alone the added nightly torture. It was true that Snape had slept very little in the past months as well, spending all of his time either reading volumes or at Death Eater meetings, but he had trained his body to require little sleep. Harry had just been suddenly thrown into this situation.

Snape sighed once again and returned to his chair behind his desk to continue the research that was getting him nowhere. Maybe the boy did have a point and the best thing to do for now was to just wake him up every time he started having a nightmare. But that would require him to stay down here in the dungeons full time so he'd never fall asleep away from Snape. Also, that wouldn't help restore the energy his body so badly needed.

Snape turned the page on the book he'd been reading an hour ago and as he began to read, a ghost of a smile played at his lips. If it worked it would be a temporary solution at best, but at least it was something. He continued on, scouring the pages for every last detail.

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A/N: All right, that's it for now. Good News: I made a list of what I was going to put in this chapter, but I didn't use any of it, so I know what the next chapter will be already. Bad News: I don't know when I'll find time to write again, hopefully over the Thanksgiving break. No school, but I still have to work. We shall see…

Happy Turkey Day all!

-PenguinLuvr