Well. Hello there!

Thank you all for such lovely support and reviews. You guys are amazingly nice!

The good news is that im on the mend, bad news is I have this horrible scar that has totally destroyed one of my favourite tattoos, it looks as though all the colour has melted together!

And I'm back on the trains, defiant old me!

Sorry this has taken a while. I love you all.

Harry woke with a shout, his sheets flying as he bolted upright. He had a moment to take in his surroundings, the darkened room and closed curtains , before he pitched forwards, his head in his hands.

He gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut. He was in agony, it was as though someone had put his head in a vice, an unbelievable pressure building up behind his eyes. He groaned as a wave of nausea washed over him.

He swung his legs over the bed and made an effort at standing, reaching out to the wall to steady himself. Slowly and painfully he made his way to the bathroom. He turned on the light and hissed as it burnt his eyes, he gripped the sink unsteadily and reached for the tap, turning it on full force and reaching his hand beneath the torrent. He brought it up and rubbed it over his face bringing him temporary relief.

He looked terrible, he was deathly pale and his eyes were blood red. He covered his eyes as another sickening wave passed over him, threatening his balance. Even amidst the pain and dizziness though, there was still one thought. He'd remembered.

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

He sat perched on the side of one of the far too familiar beds that took up the hospital wing. It had been the potion, Harry knew, a different variation that he had been willing to try. Madam Pomfrey had tutted at him in a scornful manner and sent immediately for Snape.

Harry sat in silence trying to avoid the woman's stare for fear of catching her eye and sparking off a riot. He didn't feel; as sick but his head was pounding all the same, and he wasn't entirely looking forward to daylight either. He hung his head and watched his feet swing back and forth, contemplating what he'd seen.

There was movement at the far end and he looked up to find that Snape had arrived, looking a little less cool and collected as he'd probably hope, he saw Harry and made his way over.

"What Happened?" he asked quietly when he reached him.

Harry looked at him, he'd obviously just been woken because he still wore the t-shirt and trousers he slept in and he looked as though he hadn't entirely woken up yet.

Harry sighed, "I don't know, all I know that happened is that I woke up in a lot of pain. I think it must have been the potion, I can't think what else it could have been." He watched as Snape hung his head.

"I'm so sorry Harry," he muttered, "I must have made a mistake."

Harry snorted, "Don't be stupid." He replied. If there was one thing he knew about this man, it was that he never made mistakes. "I probably just had a reaction to it, that's all."

"Well, if that's the case I'll need to do some tests." Snape looked at Harry, awaiting his conformation. Harry nodded in a defeated manner, rolling and lying down as Snape walked away to find Pomfrey. He closed his eyes, bringing back that fraction of an instant. The vibrant flash of colour and burst of noise and laughter, he could feel it too, what he had felt then. He'd been so happy, but there was an odd, nervous quality too, as though he was waiting for something to happen. He pressed his eyes together tightly. He could see people, a room…

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes snapped open, "Do I have another home?" he asked suddenly.

Snape frowned at the unexpected question, "What?"

Harry sat up suddenly, "have I ever lived anywhere else?" he asked, vehemence in his voice.

"I think you should…" Snape tried to get him to lay back down, but Harry was adamant.

"Have I?" he demanded.

Snape stopped his efforts and looked at Harry, at the hope and desperation on his face. "Yes…in London."

That was it, Harry knew it, he'd seen it, he'd been there again. "Take me there." He asked, pleading.

Snape looked dumfounded. "Harry…I don't,"

"Severus, please!"

Both of them froze, Harry's eyes wide as he realised what he'd said. There was a lengthy silence as they eyed each other, not quite sure what to say. Harry didn't know what to think, it had just been instinctual, his name had been so familiar to say but had left him uncomfortable. He lowered his eyes, wishing that right now Snape would just leave. He felt something heavy in his chest, an uncomfortable weight knowing that he was looking at him.

"You remember?"

Harry shook his head, concentrating on his hands smoothing out the bed sheet. "I saw something. I want to know if it was real."

There was a pause, "What did you see?"

Harry thought for a moment, brow creased as he tried to hold on to the image, "A party. I think. There were people, and it was loud and bright, and I was laughing."

Severus thought, that could have been any number of gatherings at Harry's, for a while he seemed to have them every weekend. "Can you remember who was there?"

Harry closed his eyes, trying to recall, but it was difficult, like trying to remember a dream upon waking and finding that the harder you concentrate the further it slips away. He sighed in frustration. "No! Every time I think about it, it just keeps fading." He felt angry with himself, for giving himself such a vital piece of the puzzle only to lose it.

"Well, don't worry about it, if you remembered it once, I'm sure it will come back." Snape said matter of factly. "Now, hold still while I do this." He picked up a small needle and syringe. Harry pulled back.

"I still want to go." He said strongly, surely being there would help him.

"I know," Snape said gently, "But I'll have to do this first. Then we can go."

Harry conceded, albeit petulantly, he didn't like being prodded and poked especially after the tests he'd already undergone, but Snape was gentle and methodical, as though he'd done this a thousand times before. Harry watched him closely as he tended to him, how his hand cupped his arm as he pierced the skin, his thumb pressing against the crook of his elbow to stop the blood from spilling, the way he gently pulled the sleeve of Harry's shirt down when he'd finished. It all seemed too surreal, like some strange ethereal dream, to see this man, so stoic and uncomprimisable in Harry's memories, stripped to just a man, like any other, with the same emotions and feelings. He was so much more approachable, divested of his strict teaching robes and cold front Harry felt he could almost see why he could have made friends with him. Harry shook himself, uneasy with where his thoughts were going, still uncomfortable and rebellious against the whole idea.

"Can we go now?" he asked quietly.

Severus looked at him, at the way he held himself in reserve, like a child waiting to be scolded for putting a foot out of line. He'd seen his face, after he'd said his name. The uncertain confusion that had crossed his face left him looking bewildered as he fought to understand his own instincts. He wouldn't deny that it was hard, to choke down emotions and control how he was around him. The boy couldn't even comprehend the idea of their friendship, and with each little proof it seemed as though he tried to put up a wall of denial which was slowly crumbling under the weight of its own evidence. But still, he held within him a shard of hope. He'd called him by his name. He'd remembered. In whatever form, he'd remembered.

"We can go now."

IVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVIVI

London was cold that morning, but Harry could tell that despite this it would be a scorching day in the capitol, as soon as the sun rose and mixed with the pollution, bouncing from the buildings and pavements, it would be like walking through an oven. They'd apparated earlier, at least, he'd tried. But when they'd reached the apparition point Harry had realised that he'd forgotten how. They'd had to make do with side by side apparition which had left them both feeling a little worse for wear.

But at least he was here now, stood in front of a thin house with a blue door and a set of steps leading up to it. He held the key between finger and thumb as he looked up at it, rubbing the warm metal between them and focusing all his attention on trying to recall any glimpse of memory.

"When did I get this place?" he asked, his voice feeling unnaturally loud in the quiet morning air.

Beside him, Severus adjusted his jacket, "About four years ago. You said you wanted somewhere to go where nothing had mattered before."

Harry could imagine himself saying something like that, the desire to have somewhere that hadn't been tainted by his life before. He could never imagine going back to number four, Hogwarts was school, a home yes, but not his to keep, and number twelve held too much hurt and darkness. He looked at his house, and reasoned that he had made a good choice.

He took the first step, then the second until he was at the door, not even a pause before he put his key in the latch and twisted, the door opening with an uneasy sound that triggered a feeling of safety within Harry. He stopped in the hallway, hand still on the key, imagining all the times he'd come through this, his, front door.

The hallway was plain, with a small pile of post building up behind the door. But this wasn't what he was looking for; he headed straight for the doorway on the left.

It was exactly the same as in his dream, and Harry experienced the strongest sensation of deja vu

He'd ever experienced. He moved around the room, hands drifting out to run along the back of the couch or a shelf, the mantelpiece. It was very different to the living room he had at the school. It was much more modern; he even had a decent TV and sound system stacked neatly on a shelving unit in one corner. The couch was red leather and matched the one red wall perfectly, contrasting the black highlights here and there. Harry could tell that this was his place, his taste, his style, his everything. No one but him had a say here.

He sat down on the soft worn leather and looked, gazing non distinctly out of the window which looked out over the row of houses opposite. He felt very much at home.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling himself relax as his mind determined to remember something. It was as though there was something there at the back of his mind just aching to reach light. He sighed in frustration and looked over at Snape who was standing in the doorframe looking a little uncomfortable.

"It wasn't long ago." He said quietly. Snape looked up, a small frown creasing his forehead. "What I remember, at least…I don't think it was." He elaborated.

"What makes you say that?" Severus asked.

Harry shrugged, "I don't know." The way he said it made him sound uneasy, as though he'd lost his keys and couldn't figure out where to find them, which in Severus' mind was a decent analogy that seemed to fit the situation perfectly. "There's just something about it that seems recent. I can't explain." He frowned heavily.

"Can you still see the memory?" Snape asked

Harry closed his eyes. "Yes."

"Where are you?"

"Ummm," Harry's eyes closed a little tighter, "By the sofa."

"Put yourself there."

Harry raised an eyebrow at Snape but conceded the point and moved around the couch so that he was standing by the arm. He looked at Snape expectantly.

"Now, I want you to place yourself exactly how you were, eyes closed."

Harry was beginning to feel like an idiot as he crouched down and closed his eyes. "Now what?"

"Relive it." Snape leant against the frame as he watched. "See through your minds eye, try to influence your memory, reach out and touch, combine the senses." He spoke softly, and then he was quiet.

Harry took a deep breath and focused, being in the room made it much easier to focus, it was almost as though the image in his mind were super imposed onto real life, like stepping back in time.

He was there

At the party, next to Ron who was slouched in the soft sofa having clearly had too much to drink. He reached out, both physically and mentally and was shocked when his hand touched the couch. His eyes snapped open and the party vanished, he breathed heavily.

"What happened?" Snape asked from behind. Harry turned.

"It was just like being there, I could feel…" he looked back at his hand resting on the arm, "in my mind, I could still feel it, like I was really there." There was both wonder and confusion in his voice.

"Try again."

Harry didn't need to be told, he concentrated, harder this time. He could almost hear the music, the loud chatter of friends talking. His hand was still on the couch. Carefully he slid it down, savouring the feel of it on his finger tips, so real. He raised his head, slowly, as though frightened that any sudden movement would shatter the illusion. He looked around, all the faces of the people so crystal clear, could even tell what they were drinking. Slowly he stood, knees protesting.

His mind was whirring at a thousand thoughts a second. How was it he could be living through a dream, was able to influence and change a memory? He turned full circle, taking in every little detail, no one seemed to even notice this strange behaviour, and when he turned to look back at Ron he was surprised to find him still slurring at the spot where he had been crouched. It was literally as though he'd stepped back in and carried on where he'd left.

But why, why this memory, what made this occasion stick out in his mind, made it that important that it was the first thing to be remembered.

As clear as day, the doorbell rang.

Harry felt his stomach lurch, a feeling of pure adrenaline rushed through his body as though he'd just apparated and suddenly he was back in the room. The sudden change left him reeling.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up. Snape looked at him questioningly, "What happened?"

"Someone's at the door?" he said quietly, eyes focusing on the hallway.

"Who?"

"I don't know." He seemed confused. He'd just gone through the most surreal experience of his life and was still trying to figure out exactly what had happened, why had the sound of the doorbell produced such an effect as to leave his heart thundering and slightly breathless. It was definitely odd.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Harry nodded slowly, "I think so." He looked up at Snape and the concern on his face. "Would you mind if we left?"

Severus shook his head, non plussed, "Of course not, why?"

Harry thought carefully, at least it looked as though he did. "I think I need more time." He said quietly. He needed to get out, needed somewhere quiet to analyse this, to turn it over in his mind. There was something stopping him, almost a reluctance, to go on. Somehow, he'd known who was at the door and for some reason he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to find out.

Snape seemed to accept grudgingly, aware that Harry seemed uneasy to share what he'd seen just now, but he followed Harry out the door anyway, watched as he turned the key in the lock and bounded back down the stairs to the street where he stopped for just a second to give the house a questioning glance.

Something significant had happened, Harry thought, he knew it, and he was bloody well going to find out what it was.