Dumbledore had collapsed, and Harry could hear Death Eaters clawing at the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office. Harry ran to his injured and worn mentor, only to discover the man was out cold. He had no idea of what to do, and he suddenly wished desperately that Snape had come back with them, rather than flying to the Astronomy Tower to head off his dark colleagues.

An explosion rocked the floor beneath Harry's feet, and suddenly there were footsteps climbing the moving staircase. Despite his fear, Harry stood tall and firm when the Death Eaters burst into the cluttered office, with Snape at the fore. Harry knew he should tremble under this betrayal, but all he could think was why Snape had come to save them only to kill them here. Harry struggled when Snape immediately crossed the office to grab his arm. What was Snape doing?

"I'll take Potter," He announced to the other Death Eaters closing in on them.

Bellatrix smirked maliciously as she turned to Dumbledore. "What about him?"

Snape shook his head sharply. "He is Draco's to take, and as good as dead, anyway. Let's go."

Harry fought and struggled as Snape dragged him to the door, and only stopped when Snape shook him sharply on the moving staircase. He was startled into immobility when the man spoke.

"Potter, please," He whispered. "This is not how I would have wanted things, but the Dark Lord comes, and he will destroy the school looking for you. You are too young to be asked, but ask I must. Are you prepared to meet your destiny, to save the school?"

Harry nodded slowly, realizing that Snape was not the traitor. He was the traitor, struggling against his destiny at the cost of the lives of his friends and classmates. Swallowing thickly, Harry straightened to his full, diminutive height. Snape gave a pained smile that looked remarkably foreign on his sallow features.

"I'm sorry." He murmured. He startled Harry again by placing a gentle whisper of a kiss on the famous scar. "I will do what I can to assist you." Snape swore.

Harry gave a stiff nod and furrowed his brow into a look of determination. He was ready to greet Death.

Harry awoke from his dream slowly, and already it had begun to fade to a dim light on the distant horizon of his mind. All he could remember was a suffocating terror that still suffused his thoughts. His leg shifted under the sheet and met the familiar stiff leg of his professor. Harry did not stop to ask why the man had come, he knew by now that, while random, these visits would not stop, at least until he returned to the Burrow after his birthday. This was the fifth or sixth visit, he wasn't sure.

Feeling all the terror of his dream, and a deep sense of foreboding surrounding the Potions Master, Harry threw aside his sheet and crawled across the bed to curl into a ball with his head on a stiff shoulder. Snape's arm moved immediately to wrap around his shoulders, holding him close. Harry sniffled, suddenly convinced that this was the dream, and curled tighter against the unyielding side.

"Is this okay?" Harry asked quietly.

"I will allow it," Snape answered. Harry could hear the smirk in the man's tone, and knew instinctively that the man didn't mind a bit. "What was your dream, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't remember. I just remember being more afraid than I've ever been in my life."

"Was it, perhaps, the Final Battle?" Snape asked carefully.

Harry shook his head and resisted the urge to pull away. Snape had made a point of asking every time he came whether Harry had remembered anything about the Final Battle. It was tiresome, especially since Harry couldn't seem to remember a damned thing. The thing that stopped him pulling away was the fear that the terror would return if he left the warmth of Snape's embrace. And it was a rather nice embrace. Harry had all-but forgotten the near kiss, but Snape's arm around his shoulders was real, and the fingers clasped around his trembling hand in the man's lap, that was real, too.

"I don't know," Harry said aloud. "It was gone even before I woke up. I suppose it might've been. I just know…I-I don't want to be alone."

"You are never alone, Potter. I am always here, whether you can see me or not."

Harry sighed, nuzzling his face into the pale neck. "Thank you," He whispered.

The Gryffindor felt himself begin to drift as Snape started to talk about the finesse and art of potion-making. They had moved onto poisons, and the herbs which made them most potent. Harry listened raptly even as Snape's voice carried him gently into sleep. He was safe, as long as Snape was there.

-Break-

Harry was working in his Aunt's back garden, pulling weeds from between the begonias. He could already feel a sunburn forming on his neck, and he had hours yet before he would be allowed inside. All the doors and windows were securely locked while his relatives were In Town, and they would likely only return in time to eat a late dinner, if they didn't eat while they were out. At least he still had a ton of chores to keep him busy. Work always made time go by faster.

"You're mumbling."

The Wizarding Savior gave a strangled shout as he fell back onto the earth, staring wide-eyed at the apparition on the back porch. He glowered.

"What the hell, Snape?" Harry demanded.

The Potions Master smirked. "And a good day to you, as well, Potter."

Harry's scowl deepened. "Not so great, really. I'm stuck out here for the next 4 to 6 hours, with no food, while my relatives are yucking it up in London."

Snape continued to smirk. "I will assume, then, that your hunger is the reason for your attitude."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Good guess. What do you want?"

"I am merely checking on you, Potter," Snape insisted.

"You're a bit earlier than normal," Harry pointed out. "How did you even know my relatives weren't here? I didn't know they'd be out of town today until I woke up to them ushering me out the back door."

"I have explained in the past that I am always nearby, even if you cannot see me, Potter," Snape explained gently.

"Oh," Harry mumbled. "Why do you still call me 'Potter'?"

"Would you prefer I didn't?" Snape asked in turn.

Harry shrugged, still working, "Well…yeah, actually. After what I saw in your memories in Fifth Year, hearing you call me 'Potter' just reminds me that my father, and my mother, weren't what I thought they were. He was an ass, and she was a bit of a snob."

Snape gave a slight nod. "Very well. What would you rather I call you?"

"Just 'Harry'," Harry answered immediately. "Because, really, that's all I am, all I've ever been. I'm just 'Harry', not some prophesied savior."

"If that is what you wish, Just Harry," Snape said, smirking as he emphasized each word in the teasing title.

Harry chuckled and returned to his work. He had a lot to do before his relatives returned home. Snape surprised him again by appearing at his side, dragon hide gloves covering his long-fingered hands, and began to pluck out the weeds alongside the 17 year old. The Gryffindor considered demurring, and telling his professor it wasn't in the least bit necessary for him to help, but he thought better of it. Snape wasn't the sort of person to take on any task lightly, and Harry sort of liked the company. Snape on the porch was one thing; but Snape down here, with him in the dirt and the mud…this Snape was somehow more…intimate.