Harry awoke with a gasp. This time he knew he'd been dreaming about the Final Battle, but like the last time, the details had already begun to fade. He moved immediately to the end of his bed, where Snape's raised arm beckoned him into it's warmth. The man had made a habit of somehow being present whenever the worst of his nightmares struck. He curled against the man's side, his head on a surprisingly comfortable shoulder.

"The Final Battle?"

Harry nodded, wrapping his arms around Snape's slim middle.

"What was it? Did you remember something new?"

Harry sighed. "No. I know I was dreaming about it, but I can't remember the dream."

Snape sighed as well. "It will come in time."

"Couldn't…" Harry started, trailing off. "Nevermind."

"What, Harry?" Snape inquired gently. Since the day in the garden, he had stopped calling him 'Potter' altogether, and had yet to even slip.

Harry sat up to look the man in the eye. "Couldn't you use Legilimency?" He asked. "To make me remember?"

Snape smirked, his fingers carding through Harry's hair. "Not unless you wished me to break your mind in the process."

A light blush tinted Harry's cheeks as he chuckled. "Oh. Best not, then."

Snape chuckled as well, and his arm rose in invitation a second time. Harry curled against the firm rib cage, and listened as the man began to speak of mundane things, like how best to store Dragon's blood.

-Break-

A few days before Harry's birthday, he woke again to Snape in his room. Like he had the first time, he awoke to the feel of cool lips on his cheek. Unlike the last time, he was more aware of the feeling, and a sleepy smile stretched his lips as he sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. Snape took up his place at the end of the bed, one hand touching Harry's foot through the aged sheet. Harry sat up completely and turned on his mattress to face his professor. His legs shifted under the sheet, and he crossed them, leaning unconsciously forward. Snape smirked.

"You're smiling."

Harry nodded.

"It seems quite some time since I have seen you do so, so readily."

Harry shrugged, his smile widening. "I was dreaming of you," He whispered. "It was a good dream, full of fairy tale endings."

Snape chuckled lightly, eliciting the shiver Harry had become used to crawling up his spine at the sound. "Do tell, Harry."

The Gryffindor smirked. "Alright…but only after you tell me something of yourself. Fair is fair, after all."

"What would you have me tell you?" Snape asked, smirking mischievously.

Harry blushed. "Anything…everything…I want to know about you. How you grew up, what you were like as a child, your favorite anything, what you want most in the world…everything. You're always so careful never to reveal yourself to anyone, and I want you to be able to confide in me…the same way I can in you."

Snape furrowed his brow uncertainly. "That is quite a tall order, Harry. I have never…I am unaccustomed to such bald curiosity, especially in regards to myself."

"Please?" Harry insisted quietly, leaning forward further, a hand on the sheets to steady him. "I know it's a lot to ask, but…You know how earnestly I trust you. It hurts me to think that that trust isn't returned."

For a moment, Snape visibly hesitated. And then he was moving. For a breathless moment, Harry thought he meant to rise, but instead the Potions Master turned to face him, one leg folding onto the bed. Harry grinned when impossibly long and cool fingers curled around his own on the sheet. Snape smirked, and it might have been a kind smile on another, less imposing face.

"Very well, Harry," The Potions Master murmured, his thumb gently gliding over Harry's knuckles. "I grew up much as you have. My father was a Muggle, and drank heavily. He was a violent drunk, and often beat my mother and me. Do not feel for me, however, as I had my mother to protect me from the worst of it. Some mornings she would come and wake me early, and the two of us would escape to Diagon Alley. It was there she taught me to love the art of Potions, in the back room of the Apothecary. The owner attended Hogwarts with her in their youth, and he is still apt to be affectionate towards me on my trips to his shop. As for what I was like as a child, I suppose you would call me shy. My father was at great pains to tell me daily that I was worthless and disgusting, and this left me convinced that no one could ever be my friend. As a result, I was painfully shy, and the bullying I faced in my Muggle school did little to change this. Your mother was my first friend, and in many ways my last. Since her death, I have allowed myself to get close to no one, lest I feel that pain of loss again."

Harry frowned as those fingers tightened around his own. "…Severus…" He murmured sadly.

Snape smirked, but couldn't keep his own sadness from touching his eyes. "It is alright, Harry, it was my own decision, and I have never regretted it until now. Shall I continue?"

Harry shook his head, swallowing the tears that stung behind his eyes. "No, that's alright. I…I want to hear more about you, about your likes and dislikes, but I don't want you to feel like you have to share, with me or anyone."

The smile in Severus' eyes lost it's sadness, his other hand touching Harry's cheek. "I am more than willing to share myself with you, Harry. You must know that your trust in me is returned ten-fold."

Harry shook his head, frowning. "No, I don't know that," He admitted. "But it is all I ask for. There are so many who want me to trust them without reciprocation…Dumbledore, McGonagall, even my friends. The only people in the world who have ever shown absolute trust in me are the twins, Fred and George, and Luna Lovegood. Even Neville doesn't really trust me, because he sees me as this untouchably powerful Wizard."

"I trust you, Harry, completely and without question," Snape murmured.

Harry looked up from where he'd been frowning at his sheets, and immediately registered the fact that Severus had somehow shifted closer without him noticing. Even now, the man was leaning further towards him, and it caused Harry's breath to catch in his throat. The hand that had been entangled with his on the bed slid gently over his forearm, and Harry felt his eyelids flutter, half-closed already, as he too leaned forward. And then Snape's questing fingers touched his bicep, and very real pain arced like lightning across the surface of his brain. He pulled back with a hiss, drawing his arm away from the offending touch.

Snape scowled, and his hand shot out like a snake to grip Harry's elbow. He pulled Harry's arm into the light cast by the moon through the lone window, and twisted the arm slightly to better examine his bare skin. His scowl deepened as his eyes lighted on the large bruise and the gash that sat in the center. Black eyes flashed with internal fire as he looked up into Harry's green gaze. The Gryffindor blushed, pulling his arm out of the gentle grip.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Harry murmured. "Uncle pulled out his belt when I dropped a plate at dinner, and I wasn't fast enough to dodge him. The bruise is from Dudley, who thought it would be fun to compound on his father's punishment. He may be slow in most things, but no one will ever accuse Dudley of being slow to box. And he may look fat, but he hits like a bull."

Snape frowned and pulled away, pursing his thin lips. Harry could tell he wanted to say something, or do something, and could see the almost heroic effort the man was making to do neither. With a sigh, Harry turned and lay down with his head on the pillow. A single tear, hot and angry, slipped from his eye to soak into the fabric beneath his head. He curled into a tight ball, easily ignoring the pain of lying on his injured arm. The man's silence made it clear: he was a freak. Now would come the pity, the same pity he got from Hermione and Ron whenever they saw the scars his uncle had left him with over the years.

"Don't be stupid," Snape murmured suddenly, his mouth impossibly close to Harry's ear.

The Gryffindor, started and half-turned in surprise, only to find his progress prevented by a stiff body lying very near to his. Snape had lain down somehow without his notice, and was now stretched out between him and the wall. Harry blushed a mighty red as his skin tingled wherever he felt the man's distinct energy less than an inch from his body. The flesh of his shoulder was alight with electricity where it touched the man's solid, clothed chest. He cleared his throat.

"W-what're you-?"

"Is this alright?" Snape murmured quietly, his lips ghosting across the shell of Harry's ear. He ran a cold hand over Harry's uninjured bicep.

Harry couldn't stop the breathy chuckle that escaped him. He cleared his throat again and hoped he sounded confident when he said, "I will allow it."

This time Harry felt it as Snape shifted behind him, situating himself more comfortably. When the man had done, his hand still rested hesitantly on Harry's arm. Sucking a deep breath, Harry reached around with the hand that had been under his pillow and slipped his fingers between Snape's. Severus' hand moved willingly as he pulled the longer arm around his middle to be held against his small, muscular chest. Harry knew he was still blushing, but couldn't seem to stop it as his breath trembled. Snape shifted closer, his body almost touching Harry's completely, but falling just short. Harry gasped as a gentle kiss was planted on the tip of his ear.

"You aren't a freak, Harry."

Before Harry could respond, perhaps ask how Snape knew the course of his thoughts, Severus began speaking gently of his life's work. He had last spoken of antidotes, and he continued in this vein, explaining the potions one could use to determine the poison a victim had been given. It was some time before Harry was able to relax enough to sleep, however; constantly aware of the hairs-breadth of space between his body and his professor's, he found himself almost short of breath, and each trembling breath he managed would rock him back the slightest bit, pressing him back against the thin, heavily-clothed chest behind him. At last, he forced himself to go through the meditation technique Hermione had taught him, and his mind was finally allowed to drift into the gentle, all-consuming darkness of sleep.