Chapter 3: Advice

First of all, thank you SO much for your incredible reviews! I'm sorry this has taken me a while to get out. I hope you like it, though I'm not totally satisfied with it. Please let me know if you have any advice!

Harry Potter belongs to JK

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When Harry woke the next morning, his first thought was that a herd of hippogriffs must have trampled all over his brain during the night. Keeping his eyes shut helped somewhat to keep out the worst of his pounding headache, and so he feigned sleep for a while, pulling the covers back up over his head. As he lay there, feeling some of the twinges in his head receding, he found himself silently attempting to interpret the odd fuzziness of his thoughts. But he soon realized that his memories of the night's occurrences were almost hopelessly scrambled.

For one thing, when he attempted to focus on what had happened the night before, the Dursleys, unfortunately, kept popping into his head. He would have shuddered and forced himself to shove them out of his mind as quickly as possible except that the scenes of their cruelty kept getting replaced by odd, unlikely images and unfamiliar feelings of someone holding him and comforting him, of that same person talking to him softly and chasing the nightmares away…but whenever Harry tried to focus on this tall, dark savior, the man, each time, would turn into Severus Snape. Harry flinched and hurriedly tried to banish such craziness away.

That had to be an illusion. After all, it was very unlikely that the Dursleys had been at Hogwarts last night, so why should he trust his memories of a strangely nice Snape comforting him on the Astronomy Tower any more?

But then, as he continued to lie there, certain memories more solidly aligned themselves. He remembered the odd visitation he'd had from Snape in the middle of the night. Had that, too, been a figment of his imagination? Had there been someone there, and his mind had just tricked him into thinking it was Snape? Harry hadn't been wearing his glasses, after all, so he hadn't seen the man clearly, but the voice had been Snape, albeit without the thick curtain of disdain that was usually present when he addressed Harry. But the man had definitely been tall and dark like Snape…and he'd said he was Snape.

And for some odd reason, the thought that this night visitor had been his hated Potions instructor didn't weird him out as much as he would have expected. Rather, he somehow felt safer, more grounded, knowing his implacable Professor had been watching over him when he had been so out of it.

I wonder if he's still here…

Harry shook himself. Don't be ridiculous, Potter. Snape doesn't like you. If that even WAS Snape, he was just trying to cover his own arse and make sure you weren't going to die on his watch. He was protecting himself from any accusations or something…

But these thoughts upset him more than they should have. For some odd reason, he'd really found Snape very…comforting last night. And the man hadn't teased him about his nightmares or made him feel like a weakling or anything. And hadn't he sounded genuinely mad that Crabbe had hurt him? And then, he couldn't help but remember, as he'd been drifting off, the Professor had wished him good night…and hadn't he called him…Harry?

The headache was getting bad again, and the dark was no longer helping, so he forced himself to open his eyes and take stock of his situation. When he looked to the right, a bubble of hope in his chest he hadn't been aware of deflated when he saw the empty chair beside him. Don't be an idiot, Potter. Of course he isn't here. Why would you expect that?

He had no more time to think about it, though, as Madame Pomfrey bustled in, and after checking him over and giving him a headache relieving draught, returned with a vial of green potion and another with swirly blue steam rising from it.

"Professor Snape left these for you to take upon waking, Mr. Potter."

"Professor Snape did?" Harry instantly felt embarrassed by the undeniably anxious, excited note in his voice. What was wrong with him? A kind word and a soft tone and he melts for the guy? Bloody hell!

If Madame Pomfrey found his behavior odd, she didn't make any indication. "Yes, he did. Also, he asked me to inform you…oh yes, that the Nutritive Potion," she tipped the green vial, "tastes somewhat unpleasant, so you should take it with your breakfast to wash away the flavor…and he was adamant that you make sure to eat at least three bites of everything and finish your pumpkin juice, Mr. Potter."

Harry gaped at her. "Snape said that? About my breakfast?"

"Professor Snape, Mr. Potter. And yes, he did. He and I are together on this-your body is not healthy for a boy your age and you need to recover your strength and many necessary vitamins and minerals. Therefore, you are to listen to us, no questions asked. Is that clear, young man?"

Harry grimaced, but nodded when the mediwitch sent him a firm, no-nonsense glare. "Yeah, sure, Madame Pomfrey," he responded with a sigh. Harry then stared down at his bed sheets, barely blinking when a breakfast tray materialized on his lap, an odd, slightly surreal mixture of embarrassment and confusion bubbling within him. Since when did Snape care about his eating habits? Three bites of everything? Finish his pumpkin juice? Who did he think he was? He wasn't his dad, for god sakes!

In annoyance, Harry grabbed the green bottle and chugged it, sputtering slightly at the awful flavor. "Dammit, Snape was right," he muttered, quickly taking a large gulp of pumpkin juice and a bite of bacon to get the flavor out of his mouth. Despite his defiant expression, however, he secretly felt a warm and strange giddiness in knowing that Snape really had been there, and really had been concerned enough to make sure he had his potions and breakfast… With a shadow of a smile, it occurred to Harry that that night visitation hadn't been a dream after all.

As Harry groggily remembered saying last night, hardly anyone had ever cared to notice how much he ate before. Well, Hermione scolded him about his eating habits, and Mrs. Weasley was always after him for being too thin, but for some reason, it affected him more that Professor Snape had made such an issue of it. The question was why? Perhaps because he'd seen Mrs. Weasley cooing over her own children so often that such a gesture didn't seem as significant? Harry shook his head and decided to worry about it later.

The food tasted great, but his stomach was somewhat unsettled, and just looking at the fried egg on his plate made him queasy. After looking around to make sure Madame Pomfrey had returned to her office for the time being, he muttered "Maybe no one will notice if I just cut it up," and began to slice the egg and hide it under his potatoes.

"Or maybe you'll just give yourself away, Mr. Potter," a voice drawled from the doorway.

"Professor Snape!" Harry squeaked. Realizing his hands were still traitorously sweeping bits of egg under a piece of toast and the fact that he clearly had said that last part aloud, he looked down at his blankets before shooting a sheepish glance at the Potions Master. Surprisingly, the man looked more amused than angry.

"Troublesome as always, Potter," he sighed, and then approached the bed.

"Um, sorry sir. I was eating, I just…"

"You just what? The eggs were not to your liking? You feel comfortable wasting food? Is that it?"

Harry flinched and glared angrily at him. Severus frowned a little, considering him. He knew, of course, that his accusations were entirely false, and that in truth, Harry likely savored whatever he could get his hands on, and was not the least bit picky. If anything, the boy's stomach was probably over-small due to so many years of deprivation, but Severus was looking for some way to hear the revelations he knew from Harry's mind without Harry figuring out how he discovered that information.

"Of course not! I hate wasting food, I of all people should-"

"Should what?" Severus quirked an eyebrow.

"Nothing."

"Mr. Potter," he said, voice tinged with a vague threat.

"Just leave me alone."

Severus sighed. Based on their relationship thus far, he wasn't overly surprised by how this conversation was going. Glancing up, he noticed the untouched vial at Harry's bedside and rolled his eyes. "Potter, you were supposed to take both potions."

Harry shrugged, not making eye contact, but his professor's tone was without the bite he expected when he spoke again.

"Take this. It should help."

Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly at the potion he handed over.

"A stomach soother," Severus explained. "I figured you might have trouble with breakfast after such an ordeal. But you need to eat well this morning if you want to recover. Eggs contain valuable protein and it is absolutely essential that you eat some of them, so drink this first, Harry."

Harry almost choked on the potion, but managed to get it all the way down before he stared, gaping, at Severus.

"What? Something on my nose? Is the greasy dungeon bat's hair greasier than usual?" He sneered.

"You…just called me…"

Severus' eyes widened when he realized what he'd just let slip. Somehow, in the course of the night, he'd started thinking of the boy by his given name much more easily than before. He had a strong suspicion it had to do with an inability to reconcile the neglected child sitting in his mind's eye with the arrogant bully of his past. Potter, to him, would always be an obnoxious prat set on the earth to make him miserable. And he found himself no longer able to fool himself into seeing Harry that way...but for the sake of his reputation and duty to the Order at the very least, he had to be careful to keep a firmer hold on this embarrassingly soft new inclination and continue the charade. He cleared his throat to try to clear up the awkward atmosphere.

"Anyway, Potter." Harry glared at him as he said the name so pointedly, "Do you feel like you can eat now?"

Harry thought about it, and then nodded, forgetting about the momentary awkwardness. With the aid of the stomach soother, he finished his breakfast with fervor.

"Thanks, sir. That was…really helpful."

Severus nodded.

Again, the silence between them grew awkward, and Harry, grasping at straws, asked, "So, uh, why are you here again?" At Severus' sharp look, he quickly amended, "Not like I mind, really, but…"

Severus considered him for a time before saying, "I wanted to ensure you were taking your potions and ascertain that the Wizarding world wasn't about to lose its 'Golden Boy.'"

Harry grimaced at that and clutched his covers tightly in his fists.

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

Harry scowled. "I'd appreciate it, sir, if you wouldn't call me that. I'm no savior. Anytime I try to help, I end up making things a hundred times worse." His voice started low but then the pain in his voice tripled and Severus only just managed a silent privacy spell before the boy was practically yelling. "It's my fault Cedric died, and Sirius! Not to mention my parents! Merlin knows who'll be next! All to save bloody, arrogant, stupid Harry Potter, right Professor?"

Severus stared at him, his inclination to scold him for his use of language brushed aside by the passion and raw emotion in the young man's voice. Severus was also somewhat gratified by how easily the boy could be honest with him when angry. Rather than closing up and holding his pain inside as he normally seemed to do, facing the world with a sullen, resentful facade, this way, he was giving him a clear opening to work with. Severus smirked inwardly, for once glad the boy was no Slytherin. Severus watched Harry patiently, waiting for him to continue. He wasn't disappointed. Harry faced him with a fierce glare that was both pleading and resentful and continued his rant.

"You know the truth, sir! You've always hated me! Can you explain it to everyone? I'm worthless and they're stupid to depend on me! How the bloody hell can they expect me to fight Voldemort when I can't protect myself without getting one of my friends killed?"

He was practically hysterical by this point, shaking and scowling and then he fixed Severus with an even fiercer glower, as if daring him to deny his words.

Severus sighed. He never would have believed himself to be put in this situation. In the situation to defend Harry Potter to and from himself, but it seemed, suddenly, that the snarky potions master could see the truth about the boy better than Harry could himself. Merlin help me with with a bloody Gryffindor. Lily, if I don't botch this up totally...

"Look, Potter. I'll admit that you have a penchant for being a careless, impulsive, too-bold-for-your-own-good Gryffindor…"

Harry nodded somewhat smugly and Severus smirked.

"However...I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that you aren't nearly as bad as you think you are."

Harry coughed and then blinked up at him in shock. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Language, Potter," Snape drawled, but then his face turned more serious and he grasped the boy by his shoulders. Harry followed the hands with his eyes as if not quite comprehending what he was seeing before looking back up at Snape in confusion. The potions master held his gaze for a long moment before breaking off and staring to the side, his grip on Harry's shoulders holding firm.

"I must admit…I may have been too hasty in my initial judgments of you," Snape admitted quietly.

Harry stared at him for another moment in shock with a tint of something not unlike hope, but then the boy shook his head roughly and a sneer that would have done his Professor justice settled itself on his face. "No, Professor. Your initial judgment was right. I'm just as irresponsible and selfish as-"

"Will you shut up, Potter, and LISTEN to me?" Snape snarled, and Harry nodded weakly. He tried to pull back, but Snape's hands were still gripping him firmly by the shoulders, and he found himself looking back up into Snape's inscrutable Obsidian eyes.

"Okay, sir," he said softly.

Snape scowled again and sighed, moving one long-fingered hand to his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose before speaking. "Potter, you must understand. Those who died for you died because of those who murdered them, is that clear? To take the blame on yourself is to absolve them of their guilt. Are you really so self-absorbed that you believe you are solely responsible for the choices of those who died?"

The initial irate retort Harry started to throw halted in his throat as the meaning behind his professor's words sunk in, and Harry found himself once again staring at Snape. He had the feeling someone had said something like this to him before but somehow…it made more sense this time. "Oh," he said feebly.

"Oh is right," Snape spat. "What happened to Cedric Diggory was a horrible tragedy, but it was no more than the Dark Lord does daily in place of afternoon tea. Taking a family of muggleborns barely sates his appetite. Do you understand what I'm saying, Potter? It is absurd for you to destroy yourself for being unable to protect a schoolmate from the Dark Lord! To do so is pointless and only gives him power by filling you with the despair he feeds off of!"

His words made sense. Too much sense, really. Frantically, Harry grasped at something to make the Professor understand that he was guilty, that he was responsible, at least partly. "But Professor! Voldemort didn't want Cedric! He only wanted me and I'm the one who told Cedric to grab the cup with me! If I hadn't, then he never would have-"

"Potter! Did you know the cup was a portkey?" Snape waited until Harry shook his head to continue. "All you can fault yourself for, Potter, is for showing that infernal Gryffindor selflessness. I agree that it can be quite troublesome, but as it seems to be a part of you regardless of how it irritates me, you might as well just learn to live with it."

Snape sighed. He really didn't want to say this next part (and his expression showed it), but after a time, he continued. "As for Black…I hated the man, as you well know. I've hated him since the day we met, but regardless of the type of relationship we had, I did, unfortunately, know him. And if there ever were a more stubborn, impulsive man, so fiercely and stupidly protective of what he thought to be his own independence, I'd be a Gryffindor."

Harry blinked. Was that a joke?

"Do you comprehend my point, Potter? You could have done nothing to stop Black and he wouldn't have appreciated your interference. He did what he wanted and no one could have stopped him. The only one at fault, besides the mutt himself, was his insane cousin Bellatrix…and trust me, she is evil and sick enough for most of the other death eaters combined. So please, Potter, stop wallowing in this damn self-pity."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came and he found himself simply nodding, eyes wide. He didn't like the way Snape was talking about Sirius, but...his words did ring true, once he thought about it. And strangely, he felt a knot of solid guilt that had long been building and hardening in his gut loosen up a notch at Snape's words.

Harry then noticed that his professor was eying him strangely. He was staring at him, but he didn't seem to really be seeing him. Harry's eyes popped as he examined his normally dour professor's expression. Was it just him or was that…guilt? Regret? Pain? Even…affection? No. Impossible. But for an instant, a slough of emotions he'd never seen the man express seemed to flit through the professor's faraway gaze before the dark eyes focused again and Snape began to speak again in low tones.

"And Potter…taking credit for your mother's sacrifice doesn't do her any favors. If you truly respect her," he took a breath and then continued, "then grieve but stop blaming yourself!" Severus had to stop there. Those words were far too painful to spend much time saying. Because in truth, part of him wanted to blame the boy. It was much easier to do so, though, when he could blindly toss the boy off as James Potter's carbon copy. But fortunately or unfortunately, that was no longer the case. And no longer able to rest as much on Harry Potter as a scapegoat, the blame and guilt settled more readily on the part of Severus that blamed himself for Lily's death. And this blame was so vehement that he understood the boy's sentiments all too well.

"Must I go on, Potter?" He growled, but when Harry shook his head, an unfamiliar expression in his wide eyes, Severus relaxed and broke their gaze.

"Um, no sir. I…thank you, I guess I…wasn't thinking clearly."

"Clearly," Snape sneered, but there was no fire in the sneer this time. Damn Potter, making me into a bloody Psychologist! If this boy doesn't kill me than I don't know what…

Harry was reeling from all Snape had said to him. Even if it hadn't been his intention, the man had just bloody comforted him, as if he were trying to rip apart every reason he had to feel guilty! And the way he spoke about his mother was so...almost personal. As if he truly understood. Almost as if he knew her. There were too many things to think about, and Harry was teeming with questions, but he didn't even know where to begin. And so, he just faced his professor with a faint smile and changed the subject sligthly.

"Oh, and, er, thanks for last night, Professor," Harry said quietly. "I…don't really remember much. Just images, but I think you helped me, right? You, er, found me on the astronomy tower?"

Severus nodded slightly, his expression unreadable, and Harry's smile widened a bit, his tone sincere. "I really appreciate it."

After another minute, Severus cleared his throat and said, "Mr. Potter, the curse that you were hit with scrambled many of your thoughts and memories. Though the curse has been dealt with, some things will remain somewhat ambiguous for a time, and you should expect to recall these images more as your mind and body heal. As that occurs, if you find some images that…disturb or confuse you… it would be... permissible for you to stop by my office to discuss them." His tone was his usual, disinterested monotone, but again the meaning behind the words was, while not entirely welcoming and friendly, certainly more concerned and caring than not.

"S-sure, Professor. Thanks," Harry found himself saying.

Severus nodded curtly and stood up, removing a vial from his cloak. "And if you begin to feel nervous, take this. Anti-anxiety potion with pain reliever…and I will instruct your housemates to bring you whatever work you have missed. I expect you to be prepared for class Thursday, is that clear?"

"Yes, professor. Uh, thanks again for…you know." He blushed.

With a final nod, Severus left the hospital wing, his mind burning with ideas for how to deal with his Slytherins this evening…not to mention how he was going to go about getting Harry to admit to his treatment by those muggles…Severus sighed. Why must his life revolve so completely around the bloody Boy-Who-Lived-to-Give-Him-a-Headache? But it was becoming increasingly clear to him that Harry's head of house (not to mention Dumbledore) had done little to nothing for the boy over the past six years. This could not continue, and though the Potions Master grumbled to himself all the way down to his office in the dungeons, he felt a sense of purpose that was not entirely unpleasant at the knowledge that the boy's interests were falling more completely to him to deal with.

And at least the boy had been surpringly open with him. As expected, Harry tended to bare his emotions when angry...much like another green-eyed Gryffindor. Severus smiled slightly to himself. He could definitely use that. Perhaps, if the boy continued to act more like his mother, this could even work.

Thanks for reading! I'm...not sure how I feel about this chapter. Was Snape to OOC? Anyway, let me know! Your feedback is MUCH appreciated!

Thanks~

tess4aria