Harry awoke again little more than a week later, and frowned around at his moonlit bedroom. Something had woken him, but he didn't know what. Had he been called? His aunt sometimes did that, when she couldn't sleep and wanted company. It was one of the few times she bothered to show kindness, in the dead of the night, when the 'normal' world slept. She would come to wake him, and be waiting downstairs with tea and biscuits. Had she come tonight?

"You talk in your sleep."

Harry started and looked at the shadowy figure near his busted armoire. His frown deepened.

"You're going to give me a heart attack if you keep randomly appearing like this. How are you even getting in?" He whispered.

Snape smirked in the clouded moonlight. "You mean how am I getting past the ridiculously mundane and simple Muggle locks?"

Harry smirked as well. "Fair enough. Another wellness check, then?"

Snape gave a slow nod, straightening from where he'd been leaning casually against the wall. He moved towards the bed.

"Why do you bother?" Harry asked. "You know I'm being mistreated, everyone knows that thanks to that Skeeter bitch."

"Does that mean I shouldn't check on you?" Snape inquired, still smirking.

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, I just mean…What would you do if I actually needed your help? I can't leave here, per Dumbledore's orders, until I turn 17. So it's not like you can take me away, even to the hospital."

Snape quirked an eyebrow as he sat at the foot of the bed. "Do you imagine, Mister Potter, that I do not have methods at my disposal with which to temper your relatives' foul mistreatment of you?"

Harry chuckled lightly at the thought. "Oh, I imagine you have a lot of methods, the question is whether or not you can, or would, use them against those beasts I call family."

Snape gave a deliciously evil chuckle. "I dare you to try and stop me."

Harry grinned. "There's the Snape I know and love."

The eyebrow quirked upwards again at that, and Harry blushed.

"You know what I mean," The Wizarding Savior murmured. He cleared his throat. "I think I remembered something about the Final Battle the other day."

Snape settled onto the bed to face his student. "Do tell."

Harry's blush deepened. "Well, it isn't much, and what I do remember is a bit…blurry, but…I think I remember you being there, when we arrived back at The Three Broomsticks. You convinced us to fly back to Dumbledore's office, rather than the Astronomy Tower. You probably saved our lives."

"There is that distinct possibility, and the nearest summation of my intentions," Snape said, smirking.

Harry realized the man was teasing him. He grinned. "Sure?" He asked, teasing back. "Sure you weren't there to give me a detention for being out of bounds?"

This elicited Snape's dark chocolate chuckle, and Harry felt a shiver race up his spine at the sound. He was unaware of the word orgasmic, but he was definitely aware that the sound made him feel pleasure the way nothing else ever had. His grin widened even as he felt a blush rise on his cheeks.

"You know…" He began softly, carefully. "I…I really like having you come to visit me. I'm sure you've got better things to do with your summer than check on a self-involved prat like me. But…I'm really glad you do come."

Snape leaned forward on the bed. "Then perhaps I should do it more often," He suggested.

Harry prayed the man wasn't teasing. His breath hitched when Snape continued to lean toward him, and a long-fingered hand slithered onto the back of his neck. He became certain, in that moment, that Snape intended to kiss him. And kiss him he did, thin lips pressing against the famous lightning bolt scar. Harry blushed as the Potions Master pulled away.

"Why did you do that?" He muttered uncomfortably. He hadn't been sure until he'd felt the crushing disappointment afterward that he'd really wanted Snape to kiss him.

Snape gave a gesture which might have been a shrug. "You are terribly pale, in spite of your blush. It's something my mother used to do, to gauge my temperature. As I suspected, you are clammy and somewhat feverish. Are you ill?"

Harry scoffed. "I doubt it. I haven't gotten sick since I was about five. No, I probably just worked too hard today. Aunt Petunia had me doing the front and back garden entirely before I'd be allowed to eat. All that work, combined with how little sleep I get thanks to nightmares, I'm not a bit surprised that I'm not looking quite fit."

Snape's gaze was one of concern and Harry waved it off.

"Don't worry, I'm okay, if a bit hungry. I'll be fine tomorrow, same as always."

Snape stared, his brow still slightly furrowed, for another moment before giving the slightest nod. "Then perhaps I should let you rest."

Harry's eyes widened with something akin to fear. "You aren't leaving, are you?"

The smirk returned. "Not if you desire otherwise."

"I do," Harry admitted with a blush. "I slept so well last time, no nightmares or anything. I had hoped you would…well, talk me to sleep again."

Snape gave a slow nod of acquiescence and shifted onto the bed into the same position he had taken up the last time. When Harry was assured the man intended to stay, he shifted himself and curled loosely under his sheet, allowing his feet to touch the leg that was both soft and unyielding at the end of his bed. He settled on his pillow, one hand curled under both the flattened pillow and his head. He closed his eyes as Snape's voice began to drift over him, picking up the same strain of Potions knowledge he had begun the last time. It wasn't long before sleep's gentle claws claimed him and dragged him down into the world of sweet, summery dreams.