Snape's eyes fluttered open at the sound of a groan. He too began to rouse from his chair, standing up with a loud pop. Only thirty-six and already popping like an old man. It was probably the stress. Likely caused by the very boy in the hospital bed beside him. With an agitated sigh, Severus began waving his wand, casting different medi-spells over the groaning boy. Severus was filled with the intense urge to both comfort the boy and introduce him to "pillow therapy". Obviously, he could do neither, no matter how much the sound grated on his ears.

"Potter, if you are through with the groaning-"

"Go away~" Harry whined, turning his body to push his face into the hospital bed. "Everything bloody hurts."

Snape's eyes twitched.

"After the events of last night, Potter, I will not be going anywhere. It is in your best interest that you get up." Harry groaned again, sitting up with a wince. Good, he should be hurting, Severus thought. Especially after the events he pulled last night. How had he even begun to think that going down into that chamber was a good idea? He had no clue. He didn't want to know!

Well, he did, and that was the issue.

"Why are you even here?" Harry muttered, mostly to himself. "I'm bloody fine." Snape's teeth ground against each other. This insolent little shit-

"It so happens, Potter, that I saved your life last night. A little respect is in order." Severus said, finishing his spells with a dramatic flourish. Harry flinched, dark (depressing) satisfaction filling the potion master's bones. Was he really petty enough to want the child to live in fear?

"That can't- I made the phoenix! I would have been fine!"

"Oh? You mean your illusion?" A dark smirk grew on his face, while his emotions were in utter turmoil. If Albus found out… "Your little phoenix was quite tainted Potter. It did you no good." Harry's face grew crestfallen as he looked down at his hands, clenching them tightly.

"It should have worked…" Harry mumbled, hand sliding through his hair in an agitated manner. A spike of familiarity shot through Severus. Watching Harry pull at his long strands of hair reminded Severus of himself as a child. "There's no way- I did all the research!"

"It would have worked…" Severus trailed, watching the child's head turn upwards, Harry's eyes peering at him from beneath his bangs. "If you hadn't used an unforgivable. So, Potter, who did you kill?" Snape's words were icy, sharp, striking Harry straight in his chest. All colour left his face, leaving him paler than he normally was, and colder too, as blood rushed out of his body.

"I didn't kill anyone." Harry said, mouth tasting of ash, memories flashing back to Kreacher. He hadn't- but he had killed him, and it wasn't- it wasn't his fault! Kreacher deserved what he got, that wretched little creature-

"A liar and a murderer, hm?" Snape said, satisfied glee thrumming through his bones. Finally, precious Potter would get what was coming to him! Whatever poor muggle Potter had murdered would surely get him thrown in jail, and out of Snape's way.

"I didn't do shit, Snape." Harry spat, a dark underlayer to his words hiding in his speech. He didn't do anything that Severus could prove.

"Then why is your bird not completely white? Why is its song so sullen and sad? So warped?" Severus challenged, towering over the boy. "Is this what our saviour has become?"

Each word scraped on Harry's mind, recalling unpleasant memories

"I didn't-"

"Don't deny it now, Harrison! I told you illusion magic would turn you dark, evil, a path you didn't follow! But you knew that already! You were marked for ruin before you even made it to adulthood-"

"HE DESERVED IT! HE DESERVED EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED TO HIM!" Harry shouted back, anguish and hatred lining every syllable, every sound in his throat. He hated Kreacher, and Harry would gladly commit the murder again.

Snape was frozen in his tracts, breath caught in his throat as they stared at each other. He recognised the pain, the anger, the hate in his boy's eyes, and his thoughts shot back to Tobias. Had his own father- a numb cold overtook his senses, filling his mind and heart with static.

He was acting exactly like his own father, a pathetic, vile man. Goading his son, cursing at him, he was a miniature Tobias in the making!

Severus waved his wand, a bubble covering the two of them. With a flick, the hospital curtains closed. Severus had to use every ounce of muscle control to not fall into his chair.

"Pot- Harrison." the boy made a scoffing noise as Severus raised a hand to his head, rubbing his temples. "You have my word that I will not share what happened, but I need to know."

"Swear it." Harry mumbled.

"What?"

"Swear it." Harry said a little louder. Longing poked at his chest, threatening to overtake his common sense. Snape couldn't be trusted, not with this. Not without a safety measure. "Swear it or I won't tell you anything."

"I'm not swearing to a child!" Severus remarked, eyes narrowing just as Harry's own did. "Blood- fine!" and with a quick wave of his wand, the spell began.

"I swear not to tell anything Harrison Silas Potter says in this room to anyone, without his consent or prior knowledge." Snape added sneakily. Harry nodded, sticking his hand out to shake his father's.

"Or else he will lose his magic." He rushed the words, their hands gripping quickly. Before Severus could protest, or add his own verbiage, the spell settled over them. Harry had a not-so-small smirk on his face as he laid back in the hospital bed, agitating Severus.

"Speak, Potter." Severus demanded, headache pulsating as Harry rolled his eyes. "Boy-"

"Don't call me boy." Harry said sharply, the words striking Severus as odd. Albus called him boy- oh, it must be because Severus was his father. Well, who cares? Severus would say whatever he wanted. He was the adult, Harrison was the child.

"Potter-"

"Pick a damn name will you! Quit changing it up!" Harry was getting more agitated by the second, trying to place his thoughts. Severus scoffed in annoyance, crossing his legs so he could grip his leg instead of gripping the child's throat. Fine, Severus could play Dumbledore, if that's what the insolent brat wanted. Severus had played many roles in life, one more couldn't change that.

"Harrison," He began, tone soft and selected, like a mother goading her child into telling the truth about a stolen cookie. "What did you use?"

"The killing curse…" Harry began quietly, looking down, his shoulders drawn up tight. Severus' heart leaped with glee. Unforgivable, at such a young age? This would get Potter out of his hair for sure! Now if he could just get out of this bond, and get more information, it would be all set!

"On who, Harrison?" Severus asked, barely keeping himself from leaning forward in delight.

"Kreacher." He stated, and Severus felt himself pause. The black elf? Potter wouldn't get in trouble for that, people killed insane house-elves all the time, and if he couldn't prove that Potter had used the killing curse, all of it would be for nothing!

"Harrison-"

"You don't understand!" Harry interrupted, fingers flying to his hair, pulling at it. "He was the reason- if it weren't for him then Sirius might still be alive! He had it coming, he deserved everything! He deserved more! I should have tortured him!"

And for a moment, Severus thought he was looking in a mirror. He slowly rose from his chair, lightly pulling Harry's white-knuckled hands from his locks, rubbing at them in a familiar manner. He hadn't meant to get up, in all actuality he had wanted the boy to suffer, but…

Something inside Severus refused to let the boy rot like this.

"It wasn't my fault, Kreacher deserved it." Harry repeated, mostly to himself, as his eyes squeezed shut. "He killed Sirius, it wasn't me! I'm not- I didn't kill him."

"No," Severus said, holding Harry's hand in a loose grip, the same way his mother would do to him during his own episodes. "No, you didn't."

Hidden memories flashed through his eyes, reminding him that his own illusion was black as pitch. He had no reason to judge Harry's slightly grey illusion.

He still would tho.

Dear Harry,

We heard from Neville that something had happened to you, so we sent you a letter as fast as we could!

Neville was very secretive about the details, so we don't know if it was caused by quidditch, a duel, or even something like the basilisk you mentioned last summer! So, we sent a bunch of everything, including the finished quilt for your shared bed! You mentioned Ron tended to hog, so I made it a bit longer!

I hope you get better soon, Harry, and if you need anything please let us know! Anything you need, we'll help you get.

Be safe(er) and have fun,

Mary and Tom

Harry smiled at the letter, folding it back up neatly as he sat in the common room. He hadn't seen his two friends since he was initially released, but he secretly relished the silence. He could be alone with his thoughts, and himself for once. He needed to figure out where the illusion had gone wrong.

Snape had mentioned something about it being the use of the unforgivable, but that didn't make sense. His illusion was designed to help, to cry the same tears Fawkes could, why didn't it work?

Every book Harry had read said the same thing, illusion animals always followed the same patterns as their living counterparts! Harry had tried it with dogs and cats before, and they had been perfectly fine! Even once, he had imagined a snake slithering about the Longbottom Manor floors, and the baby had gone and hunted mice!

It should have worked.

"Maybe I should try something else. A basilisk maybe? With venom?" Harry thought out loud.

His cheek burned, eyes watering as his head spun. It was an intense, sharp pain, making his eyes water and snot instantly begin to run out of his nose. His glasses were askew, digging into his nose and temples uncomfortably. With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Harry stood up, turning to face his assaulter.

"What the bloody hell, Ron!?" Harry shouted, fixing his glasses to more carefully look at his friend. Ron was fuming, Neville not standing far behind him, his face a desolate look of pain and anger. It was uncanny seeing his normally soft-hearted friend having a look so dark etched into his features. "What was that for!?"

"You're seriously thinking of doing that again? After all you put us through?"

"Ron, it wasn't that big of a deal, Snape said-"

"Snapes a bloody liar then!" Ron shouted. The common room slowly emptied, leaving the three boys standing there alone. "You weren't there, Harry!"

"I was! If you don't remember, I was the one injured!"

"And who saved your thankless arse?" Neville added in, his voice sharp and forceful, cutting into Harry's side like a knife. Harry had always been good at moving when wounded.

"I didn't need you to save me, I would have lived!" He bent over, stuffing his things back into his bag. Ron grabbed at it, pulling it closer to himself.

"You aren't getting out of this! We watched you die, Harry!"

"No, you didn't!" Harry's cries bordered on hysteria. "I am still ALIVE!"

"You weren't, damnit! You weren't alive! We felt your heart stop!" Neville shouted, pushing past Ron, pushing his face up into Harry's. His breathing was shallow, each breath radiating an anger previously unknown. His pupils were wide, blocking out the colour Harry was used to seeing. "We. Watched. You. Die."

All of his words were enunciated with a poke at Harry's chest. Harry scoffed angrily, pushing his hand away. Neville had no right, and neither did Ron! They weren't…they weren't infected like he was! And he may still be, even if it was just a little bit! They didn't understand.

"You're pushing us away, just like you did last year, and you swore not to!"

"You wouldn't get it-"

"Then tell us until we do!" Ron stepped up to his friend. "Scream at us if you got to, but don't stop until we understand!"

"NO!" Harry shouted, his body shaking with emotions far too complicated for his mind to deal with at the moment. "I just- no! Leave me the hell alone, will you?!"

"No, we won't." Neville stepped towards the green-eyed boy, his voice instantly lowering. "You are our friend, Harry. We aren't going to let you kill yourself."

"I'm not going to bloody kill myself."

"Really?" Ron spat. "Then what was that a few days ago, huh? Just a silly feeling?"

"I was killing a Horcrux, Ron! And you refused to help me-"

"Because we won't let you destroy yourself!" Neville shouted, but Ron just shook his head.

"He won't get it, let's just go, Neville. Harry can find somewhere else to sleep tonight."

"What the hell?" Harry called out, walking after them. "You can't kick me out of the dorm!?"

"Fucking watch us." Ron said, pulling Neville up the stairs. Harry didn't follow, instead walking back to his place on the couch. Bloody fools, of course, they wouldn't understand, they didn't have a piece of Tom Riddle in their damn head. He rubbed at his scar- no, at his blank forehead. He had forgotten. Still, the phantom itching rang true, and he scratched at it. In all honesty, he was a bit pissed, at both himself and his friends. If only they could understand. It wasn't as complicated as they were thinking. Harry had a part of Voldemort inside of him, just like the locket had. He would have been fine either way. Time wouldn't let him die.

Fine, Harry thought, looking at the time. If they won't let me sleep here, I'll find somewhere else.

Harry knew exactly where to go.

"And you think I would let you stay here?"

"Well, yeah."

"Potter, I know you may think otherwise, but I am not a man for jokes."

"Course not," Harry said. "But I'm serious."

"Sir."

"No need to call me sir, professor."

"Potter!"

"Sorry, habit. But, just one night."

"Absolutely not!" Snape shouted. "I already must have you here for extra lessons, I don't want you here for any time more than that!" Snape sat down at his desk, his door flying open. "Now, out!"

"Bloody prat." Harry mumbled. "I'll just sleep outside your door."

"Ten points for your cheek, Potter. Get. Back. To. Your. Dorm." Harry left, slamming the door behind him. Fine, if Snape was going to be a prick, Harry would just find somewhere else to sleep. Why did he even think that would work?

Casting a quick warming charm, Harry got to work transfiguring his socks.

Snape sighed from his side of the wall, pouring himself a small glass of wine. He had never been one for daily drinking, but of course, it would be his dearest 'son' that made him drink all day. Casting a quick charm, Snape's jaw clenched as he realised Potter really was outside his door. Fine then, he would freeze his buttocks off and then head back to his dorm. No point for Snape to worry.

Oh, but he did worry, even if he tried to drown it with pepper-up potions and expensive wines. An unruly combo for his work effort, but one must have a break every few days. Snape waved his hand lazily at the fire, lighting up that part of his office. He relaxed slightly in his chair, leaning back and taking a small sip. It was French, a gift from Minerva on his birthday. It was quite nice, a sharp flavour that easily relaxed into something sweeter.

His eyes danced around, moving from the dancing fire to the shadows it cast on the walls. Shadows that struck him with familiar memories, of watching the same flames dance around in his Spinner's End home. He remembered making the little shadow creatures dance around his home whenever Tobias wasn't there, making them parade and sing for him whenever they wanted. Or when he and Lily sat by the river, he had made little delicate fish that swam around their heads, bopping their noses with wet kisses. How he had continued to do that even after Lily wasn't there, although the water had never looked as clear as it had when they were together.

He took another sip. 'He deserved it!' Harry had said. Snape had thought the same once. When he was young and foolish, far too overpowered for his own good. Much like Harry was now: young, foolish, with power pirouetting from his fingertips.

Was he really outside still? You know what- Severus didn't care. He was going to finish this glass and go to bed. Well, good wine needed a good snack to go with it.

He walked over to his pantry, taking out a pack of those American crackers. The square kind, where you must have something to drink with them or they dry your whole body out. Some cheese was next, and he just took the whole block with him back to his bedroom. Wine, crackers, cheese, and the next chapter of that potions book. A good, relaxing evening, no Potter or Albus to bother him.

A few hours later, when his glass of wine was long gone, his cheese almost finished, and the crackers more crushed than square, Severus made his way to his room door. It had been nagging him like a sadistic spouse. Was Potter truly out there, or was it one of his illusions?

He opened the door with a quiet creak, staring at the boy sleeping directly across his door. He had been serious? You know what, of course, he had been. He was Harry bloody Potter. With a sigh, Severus walked over to Potter, shaking his shoulder.

"Potter, wake up this instant. I'll take points." He whispered, trying to rustle the boy. Potter, sleep-riddled, shook his head, turning over. Snape shook him some more, but the boy wouldn't budge. With a sigh, Severus looked around the empty hall before picking up the Gryffindor. He felt heavier, which was good. Bringing him inside, He laid him softly on the couch, summoning a blanket to drape over him. Just this once.

Harry turned, his hand slinging over to hover above the ground, something clattering to the floor as his hand unclenched. Severus grabbed the small vial, staring at it suspiciously. He uncorked it, sniffing it. Dreamless sleep. He now understood why Potter wouldn't wake up, but a larger question remained. How had he gotten it?

A question for another time.

"You can't just kick him out forever, Ron." Neville said with a sigh, watching his redhead friend slam their dorm door. Ron didn't reply, angrily kicking at their bedframe instead. "Ron!"

"I know I bloody well can't, but if he cares enough to come apologise he can walk his arse right up here!"

"He isn't going to do that, Ron. You and I both know that in Harry's mind, he didn't do anything wrong." Neville tried to explain, instead watching Ron angrily change into his sleeping clothes.

"Well, good thing the world doesn't revolve around him then." Neville sighed again, grabbing his clothes from a drawer as he began to change himself. The shirt was one of Harry's old ones, one he had bought in Germany. A 'Muggle cut' as they had called it, but Neville had liked the style so much he had opted to call it 'our shirt' instead of just Harry's. Sure, he could have gotten his own, but it felt nice to have a brother to share clothes with.

"He could have died, Neville. He could have died and he doesn't even care."

"He cares, Ron. But he doesn't see what we see. He thinks he is saving us, saving himself. We know different."

"Don't try and take his side now, you yelled at him too Nev." Neville slipped into bed, grabbing a book off of his side table.

"I'm not taking his side. I'm just- I understand him more than he thinks. He's likely going to sleep down there, get cold, and come slip into bed. We'll all wake up, it'll be tense, and he'll apologise. Then we can explain to him why we are so upset."

"You really think so?" Ron asked, a hopeful spark in his exhausted eyes. "I'm just so worried, what if he tries to do this again, or worse, goes after those damn things without us?"

"He won't." Neville confirmed, settling into bed.

"Did you see his forehead?" Ron asked, lying down on the other side. "It's gone, you know. His scar."

"Yeah, I did notice. I wonder if he has."

"I doubt it." Ron let out a soft laugh. "It's a bit lonely without him. Feels like we're a couple in the middle of a fight."

Neville crinkled his nose, smacking Ron with a pillow. Gross.

That night, Neville barely slept. When he finally managed, it was like he was having a fit. His limbs shook, and his body alternated between heavy and light.

"Well, aren't you a sight, little bird!" Death was seated on a tall throne, dark swirls of grey and black amassing into a horrifying image. Three pierced skulls, bony jaws hanging open in a forever silenced scream. Part of Neville shivered, half elated, half fearful.

"What am I doing here?" Neville asked, looking around. Death just sighed, playing with his knife.

"Can't a god just say hello?"

"Err, right," Neville replied awkwardly. "Well, hello death."

"You know, I thought Time was wrong when Harry stabbed himself with that fang. I for sure thought he was dead! I even bet a whole week of choices on it! You really let me down."

"Let you down?" He questioned. "How did I do that? I didn't even know you wanted me to do something."

"You let Time's kid live! If you had made him die, Life would have owed me a week of choices."

"I'm not going to harm Harry! He's my best friend! And so is Ron for that matter."

"No fun," Death pouted. "Well, I'll see you soon then."

Neville woke up with a gasp, practically falling out of bed. His feet felt heavy, like cement blocks thumping against their wooden floorboards. He opened their door with a huff, thumping down their staircase until he made it to their common room. He needed to find Harry, to see that his brother and friend were alright, then he could sleep happily, even if it meant sleeping downstairs with him.

But Harry wasn't there.

"Potter, pay attention. I need you to relax." The boy took a deep breath, slowly opening his eyes. "You are giving me a headache"

"It's not my fault your attacks hurt so bloody much!"

"Langauge!" Snape barked. "Now, I must give it another glance over. If you would please relax, that would be wonderful."

They both took a deep breath, Snape more so for the boy to copy him. First, the boy wakes up on his couch with no memory of having chosen to sleep out there, then he has a magical freakout, and now he demands Severus to look inside his head! Severus Snape was not suited for fatherhood.

"Just get on with it, please." Harry rushed to add. Severus' jaw clenched. Fine then. He dove into the boy's mind with practised ease.

Like normal, Potter's occulmency shields were thin, transparent, and easy enough for Severus to step through. They twisted, like glass around him, shielding important bits from him, enticing other ends of his mind. He resisted the urge to shatter them. No good killing their saviour after all. A dark ball caught Severus' attention.

"Don't look at this!" It seemed to scream. Tucked into a deep corner, along with a few other memories, Severus grasped at it. It was dark, musky, taking in his sense of control like a moth to a flame. He looked at his surroundings. It was much darker in here. No longer were Potter's mental walls surrounded by bookshelves and intriguing doorways. Now it was just…empty. The darkest cavern in his son's mind.

Rubbing his hand over the small orb, Severus smashed it on the ground, letting the sticky black substance fall from his hand. It dripped, and a memory rose.

Sirius Black.

Snape watched, not moving, not breathing, not feeling. All he could do was see. Sirius Black, struck by a spell. Falling…falling…only to never hit the ground.

Harry's scream rang out, making Severus grab at his ears. If these were in his darkest corner, something so emotional and unique, what else was over there? What was in that sickly pile of dankness? Severus reached forward.

"...OUT!" Severus stumbled, clutching at his forehead. Bloody hell. How had Potter managed to push him of all people out? If it had even been him. But, Potter was fine, he hadn't come across the 'second Potter' as he had taken to calling the voice in the kid's head.

"Why did you smash it!" Harry yelled at him, palms pressing into his eyes. He was crying. Tear tracks covered his face, his pants damp with unwanted droplets. "That hurt you bloody wanker!"

"Pot- Harry. For what it's worth…" Severus sighed, ignoring Potter's word choice. Perhaps, just this once, Severus deserved it. "I am sorry."

Harry sobbed.

Moving slowly, Snape knelt in front of Harry. Sobs wracked his body, and the poor boy looked a wreck. A wreck Severus had aided in. He moved Harry's palms from his eyes, his face red from forcing the tears to stay back. Severus had looked like this once, sobbing in his mother's arms after he and Lily had stopped being friends. She had comforted him, running her thin hands through his matted locks.

With a soft sigh, Severus moved to sit next to him on the couch. Harry's hand shut up, pulling at his hair. Severus soothed it down, holding both of them on the boy's knee. No need for him to hurt himself in his grief. Severus tentatively moved a hand to his son's head, just leaving it there for a while. His hair had grown, just a bit past his shoulders now. It suited him, and his thinning face. Although he felt heavier. It was the Prince genes in him. Severus himself was lanky and thin, no matter how much he ate.

"Let me go, please." The boy pleaded. And that's exactly what he was. A boy.

"Not in this state." He replied, not uncaring. "I don't want you to hurt yourself. And you will, do not deny it. You have the same hair-pulling habit as your mother… and myself."

Harry wouldn't say anything, but he was grateful for the gloomy potions master, for his father.

The word didn't taste so bitter anymore.