CHAPTER TWO

Harry's mouth tasted like cotton. That's the first thing he noticed as he slowly gained consciousness, soon following the feeling of cotton was the pain all over his body making him groan.

"You're awake." said a deep monotone voice, startling Harry. He hissed at the sudden light that hit his eyes when they had snapped open at the surprise of hearing a familiar voice. The pain in his body flared at the sudden movement causing dizziness and intense nausea.

Harry blinked up at the voice. Bile rose in his throat, he swallowed it down before saying "Professor Snape?"

Snape stood off to the side holding a wooden tray with cups. The man handed the tray to Harry.

"Drink these Mr. Potter."

Harry hesitated, wondering if his most hated teacher was trying to poison him.

"It's not poison Potter, they're healing potions. Now drink up." Snape snapped.

The boy blinked again before drowning each of the potions in one go, surprised that none of them tasted bad. The potions worked instantly, relieving the pain that coursed through Harry's body.

"Where am I?"

"You're at my house in Spinner's End, Cokesworth."

"How did I get here?"

"I think I should be the one to ask that, Mr. Potter. You are, afterall, the one to show up on my doorstep drowning in your own blood." The older man said, churlishly raising a brow at the unspoken question.

"I-I," the boy stuttered, then sighed knowing that there was no way to avoid the truth. No matter how much he didn't want to, he had learned long ago to not trust teachers because they never did anything for him when he did trust them, and there was no way in hell that Harry wanted to trust or tell this teacher in particular anything. But there was nothing of it, he was in Snape's house and it's obvious that the slimy git was curious to why he found himself on the man's doorstep covered in blood.

"My uncle was beating me up because he wouldn't let me let Hedwig out. The last thing I heard before passing out was the voice of a woman telling me that she's sending me to a trusted friend. I think…"

"You think?"

"I think the voice belonged to my mother. No," He shook his head "I know it did."

In Severus Snape's thirty-three years of life he has seen and heard a lot of crazy things, he is after all a wizard, yet this was the most far fetched thing he has ever heard, because even with magic the dead can't be brought back to life and, even if it were possible, why would Lily of all people send her son to him and why now.

"Your mother is dead Mr. Potter. How could she possibly have talked to you let alone bring you to my doorstep?" He asked bluntly, "And even if she did, do you have any proof to your claims?"

"I-I" Potter stuttered. Severus glared down at the boy.

"I thought so. Well then Mr. Potter, I think it wise that we call Dumbledore." The man turned on his heel about to walk out and send a patronus to call Albus, Potter's cry of desperation stopped him.

"Wait, Professor, please don't call Dumbledore, please don't, he'll just send me back and I don't want to go back to the Dursleys, please!"

He turned the upper half of his body to look at the boy, really look at him. His messy black hair was everywhere, his glasses, askew and cracked, covered his eyes, Lily's eyes, that were filled with fear. The boy was small for his age, probably due to malnourishment his brain helpfully provided, and he was a bit pale. Severus, immediately reminded of himself, quickly looked away from the boy and closed his eyes.

Memories of Potter from the last two school years filtered through his mind, memories he blocked out or ignored due to the fact he already pegged the boy to be like his father, memories of Potter in line with the other first years looking small, pale and underfed, memories of Potter's first potions class and the fading bruise on his arm that Severus briefly saw when the boy's sleeve rolled up, memories of Potter looking a bit better as the year went but then when first day of second year came by he looked almost liked he did the year before if not a little worse for wear, though there was more colour on his face. Memories of the night before, when Potter showed up on his doorstep almost dead and covered in his own blood.

Severus sighed, he had failed Lily, failed his promise. He had promised that he would protect her son, which he ultimately failed by not taking care to notice the boy's pain. He knew what he had to do next, even if he didn't like it.

"Fine, I won't call Dumbledore, but you'll have to stay with me for the time being."

"What! Wait! Why do I have to stay with you? Why can't I stay with Ron or Hermione?"

The boy was right, he could drop him off at one of his friends' houses and be rid of the kid for his summer, but he's failed Lily enough as it is and the best way, in his opinion, to make it up to her was to let the boy find refuge at his house, no matter how small it was but Severus couldn't tell the boy that so instead he said.

"You were dropped off on my doorstep Mr. Potter, and until we figure out why you'll have to stay here."

He could tell that Potter was about to argue, so he sent a glare in the boy's direction. Potter drew back.

"Now, you stay here, I'll go get your stuff. Where would they be?"

"My wand and school stuff are locked in the cupboard under the stairs and my clothes and Hegwigs cage are in my bedroom."

Severus nodded before he walked out the door and apprated to Four Privet Drive.

Harry sat in confusion and stared at the door Snape had left through, finally processing his conversation with his professor. A tiny part of him was glad that Snape hadn't called Dumbledore, Harry knew that if Snape called the headmaster he would have just been sent back to the Dursleys. After all he had asked Dumbledore twice now if he could stay at Hogwarts for the summer instead of going back and the man said no, but another part of him, a much bigger part, was horrified that he would have to stay with the greasy bat of a teacher.

Especially, since the logic Snape gave wasn't actually logical in Harry's mind, but then he remembered what his mother's voice said. She had said a trusted friend, though he doubted Snape had any friends let alone that his mother was one, Harry felt himself having unexplainable trust to the voice.

So, as Harry sat and waited for Snape to come back, he took in his surroundings. The room he was situated in felt cramped, the walls were covered in bookshelves, a small square coffee table, where Snape put the tray down on, sat in the middle and on the other side of the coffee table were two single chairs. Everything but one of the single chairs and the two seater couch where Harry lay were covered in books and scrolls, some opened.

On the wall that the two seater couch was against was the door Snape left through and dusty curtains that probably covered a window. On the wall to the left, though also covered in bookshelves there was a small open doorway that led to the kitchen as far as he could tell from the angle he was in and in the wall in front of him another doorway led to steps that lead upstairs.

It had been almost an hour when the door banged open and his professor walked through seething.

"Follow me, Potter." He said before walking up the stairs to the next floor.