A/N: Thank you all for your patience and your reviews. I promise that I read them all and am often giddy when I do. You are the reason this story is still going so thanks for that!

And here and there the places spy

Chapter 23

Harry's mind was whirling. Allow Snape in his mind? To watch his deepest, darkest memories? And to what end? Just to keep Harry from seeing them again? He was honestly not sure if that was even preferable. Sure, Snapeknewwhat had been going on in his house. In excruciating detail, even. But knowing was vastly different from witnessing. Harry wasn't sure if he would ever be able to live down the embarrassment he would get from knowing that Snape watched him be thrown down the stairs. From being beaten within an inch of his life. From cowering in a corner…

Harry shuddered. No, this was still Snape they were talking about. Decent as he might have been since finding out, that was all going to change when Harry returned to Gryffindor. And then what? Snape would have no more loyalty towards him. Nothing stopping him from telling everyone about Harry's pitiful life. He could already imagine the Slytherins mocking him in their common room for not being able to outrun a fat, talentless muggle. He was supposed to be a legend in the wizarding world. Not a punching bag.

He glared at Snape – already blaming him for wrongs he had yet to commit – and found the man patiently staring at him with blank expression.

"No, thanks," Harry finally said. "I'm sure I'll manage on my own."

Snape sighed. "Mr Potter," he said. "I believe that I can see why you would decline my offer. But I really believe it's a bad idea to try and suffer this experience by yourself."

"I'm not by myself," Harry said. "I've got Hermione right here. And I'm not so weak to be fazed by my memories."

"And yet I-"

"No," Harry said sternly. "Atleastlet me try to do this by myself. Unless you're saying I have no choice?"

Snape shook his head wearily. "Of course you have a choice," he said. "I apologise for my insistence. It is merely because I wish what's best for you. Just know that my offer remains should you find yourself in need of it."

Harry nodded, surprised that Snape backed down so easily. "Thanks," he said. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Should we continue?" Madame Pomfrey asked. Harry had almost forgotten that she was in the room. Thinking about it, it was kind of strange that Pomfrey allowed Snape to take the wheel like that. It was probably a testament to the experience Snape had in these kinds of situations.

"Are you up for another one, Mr Potter?" Snape asked.

Harry sighed. "Do I have a choice?"

"Not if you want to be done by the time Christmas break is over, no," Snape told him.

"I thought as much," Harry said. "Go on. This wasn't so bad." He could feel Hermione's grip on his hand tighten. When he looked at her, he could tell that she was putting on a brave face but underneath, she was struggling.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

Hermione chuckled bitterly. "What a thing to ask," she said. "But that's typical of you, I suppose. Don't worry about me, Harry. I'm here for you."

Harry breathed deeply to steel himself before nodding at Snape. "Go on then," he said. "What's next on the list?"

"The burning of your foot," Snape said, his tone thankfully neutral. "While it appears healed, there is clear nerve damage that should be addressed. Doesn't your foot itch or ache oftentimes?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess," he said. "I never really thought about it."

Snape nodded. "I suppose it is now normal for you," he said. "Please lay back down and I'll raise the curtain again."

"Yes sir." Harry laid back and crossed his hands on his chest. His fingers were straining as they intertwined when Hermione took his hand into her own.

"I'm here for you," she said with a kind smile. "So tell me, what did you get me for Christmas?"

Harry chuckled as Pomfrey and Snape cast the spell again. "A pair of socks," he said. "Dumbledore always said that it's his preferred gift."

Hermione huffed playfully. "Well," she said. "I hardly think my interests are the same as those of an old wizard."

Harry chuckled. "Oh, I don't know Hermione, sometimes it seems like – Oh, mother of Merlin!"

When the pain he had long since forgotten engulfed his foot, he squeezed Hermione's hand so tightly he was afraid he'd hurt her. But he vaguely noticed that she gently put her second hand on top of his, her thumb drawing soothing circles on his hand.

Flashes of his past invaded his mind. It was not like the previous memory in which he watched everything as if he was right there. No, now they were invasive pieces of a puzzle of which he knew the final product but couldn't for the life of him put together anymore because there was too much missing.

There was Petunia shouting at him. There was him running away. And then there was him back at the Dursleys sitting at the kitchen table as Petunia was watching water in a pot with her arms crossed.

He only noticed that treacherous tears were leaking from his eyes when Hermione wiped them for him. And it was when he wanted to say something to her to reassure her that he noticed that he was screaming in agony. He might not remember the event itself but he did remember the pain of boiling water engulfing his skin he was introduced to again. It was not kinder to him now than it was back then. He shut his mouth and tried to stay quiet but he couldn't ease the whimpers and occasional cries that begged for the torture to stop. Above the curtain put up to shield Hermione from the visual horrors he felt, he could see the heads of Snape and Pomfrey as they were fervently working and whispering to each other. Snape glanced at him with a mixture of concern and anger that weighed heavily on Harry's heart. How much longer would he have to endure this?

And then it was over. From one moment to the next the pain had gone entirely. Harry sighed in relief and slowly released his grip on Hermione's hand, though she didn't let his go yet. If Madame Pomfrey wasn't there right alongside Snape, Harry might have suspected that this was just an elaborate scheme of the man to hurt Harry as much as he possibly could. No, that wasn't fair. Glancing at Snape again revealed that the man seemed pained and exhausted. Sweat drops tarnished his brow and he seemed to be trembling. When Harry lifted his free hand, he could see that he wasn't faring that much better. Though he wasn't sure if he was indeed trembling or perhaps just shivering from the cold. Was he cold? It felt sort of difficult to orientate himself.

"Hermione," he said, trying to sound light-hearted, though he knew instantly that he'd failed. "It's okay. It's over."

He tried to reassure his friend because he now noticed that she was crying as well. "Maybe Pomfrey was right," he told her. "If it's too hard for you, I would understand."

"Oh hush, Harry," Hermione said, her voice steady even if her hands were not. "I might have certain feelings about this but that doesn't mean I can't handle them."

Harry looked at her tear-stained face but didn't comment again. Instead, he just smiled at her. "Thanks," he said wearily. "I do appreciate it."

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "Are you alright? Professor!"

Harry wasn't sure what she was panicking about. The pain was gone and his foot felt fine. He was just a bit tired, that's all.

"Jus' tired," he said wearily. He felt his eyes droop when someone shook his shoulder rather aggressively.

Harry looked up at Snape who hadn't removed his hand from his shoulder yet. "Stay awake a tad longer, Mr Potter," he admonished. "Your body is in a state of shock."

Harry didn't really care. All he could think about was that Snape's baritone voice was actually quite soothing. It was so steady and calm that it was easy to fall asleep to. Then his shoulder was shaken again.

Harry groaned. "Please," he begged. "Let me sleep."

"Not until I can be certain that your mental state won't be affected by doing so," Snape said sternly. "You need to at least stay up until the spell wears off entirely."

"It hasn't worn off?" Hermione asked. "How come?"

Harry barely noticed that Snape hooked his arms underneath Harry's armpits to pull him upright into a sitting position. Then he turned him a bit so his feet were dangling off the bed. Harry tried to swat Snape away in protest but the man was like a brick wall. He steadied Harry with one hand as he lowered the bed with his other until Harry's bare feet touched the cold floor. It sort of helped Harry stay awake though it did nothing to ward off the drowsiness.

"Some injuries take longer to heal than others," Snape explained to – Harry assumed – Hermione. He was certainly not a good conversational partner at the moment. He stared down at his feet and thought that he saw two of each. Even the floor looked comfortable right now.

"That's why the spell lasts as long as it does. To avoid needing to recast it multiple times while in the middle of a complicated procedure."

Snape felt warm. Too warm, almost. And he was standing so close to steady him, still.

"That also means that if he falls asleep now – Mr. Potter! Do not dare fall asleep."

Harry groaned again. He wasn't sleeping. He was merely resting his head a little bit. Against the warm, fuzzy robe that was Snape's. And he was too tired to care. He mumbled something incoherently even to himself but still fought to obey his head of house. Even if the siren call of Hypnos was beckoning him.

When his improvised pillow took a step back and Harry almost tumbled forward if not for the steadying hand on his shoulder, he was jolted enough to open his eyes again. Snape nodded.

"Listen to me closely and carefully, Mr Potter," the man said. "If you fall asleep now and experience any nightmares, a new phase of this process may be triggered."

Harry sighed. "So?" he managed to whisper.

"Madame Pomfrey and I must stop for today," Snape explained. "And doing this while you're asleep can be dangerous. It might impact your mind without us knowing, which means we won't be able to correct our course. If your mind would prove to be damaged after waking up – if you even do – there would be nothing we can do about it. Unfortunately, even the wizarding world is woefully unequipped to cure mental illnesses. As it stands, we have about the same resources as mere muggles do."

"Alright," Harry said, trying his best to comply. He curled his fingers around the edge of the bed and squeezed in an attempt to wake his sleepy muscles. If only there wasn't an invisible force hovering over him, desperately trying to close his eyes for him.

"Did you experience the memory again, Mr Potter?" Snape asked.

Harry merely shook his head. He might be trying to stay awake but he was certainly not up for tantalizing conversation right now. If Snape wanted to know more, he would have to wait.

"Well, that's fortuitous, at least," Snape said. He also sounded tired, Harry thought vaguely. Maybe it had something to do with that equivalent exchange. The hand on his shoulder seemed to be weighing heavier than before.

Snape then sighed. "It is done," he said, sounding somewhat relieved. "You may now sleep, Mr Potter."

Snape didn't have to tell him twice. Harry laid back, too tired to lift his legs back up and let his head hit the pillow in a somewhat awkward angle. He was vaguely aware of someone lifting his legs into the bed for him and a warm blanket appearing on top of him. Pretty soon, there was only the soft buzz of a conversation held somewhere very far away from him and the gentle darkness of sleep finally welcoming him into its embrace.

When Harry next woke, the light of day was already shining rudely on his face. Hundreds of specks of dust swirling in the soft sunbeams that were playing on his skin. It took a while for the events of the previous evening to come back to him but when they did, Harry bolted upright in his bed and searched for his glasses that had been removed from his face. Luckily, they were in reach and soon he was able to find his bearings.

As expected, Hermione was no longer there. She was likely sleeping in her dorm, or perhaps having breakfast in the great hall. Whatever the case, Harry could hardly expect her to linger and watch him sleep for Merlin knows how long.

After looking around for a bit, Harry noticed that he wasn't alone. A curtain was drawn around a bed quite a ways away from his and all he could discern was a dark, unmoving silhouette. Accidents could still happen, even during the Christmas holidays, he supposed. Feeling a bit self-conscious, he closed the drapes around his own bed and opened his overpacked bookcase. While he wasn't entirely on board with doing homework right now, it was far better than staring at the walls in front of him.

He was researching some more about the bird he had chosen for his Animagus transformation when he saw the silhouette of Pomfrey come out of her office. First, she went to the other person here. Harry didn't mean to pry but there was not much going on here. On the other hand, he wasn't getting a lot of information either. The only thing he saw was Pomfrey bustling in her usual frenzy near her patient, providing them with potions and whatnot whilst fussing in hushed whispers. Then – after a little while – she came to Harry. When she drew back his curtain she seemed utterly surprised that he was awake.

"Mr Potter," she said. "Studying already, I see. Well, not that that's not commendable but I don't know many students that would read as thick a book as you have on their first day of vacation. Well, except for Ms Granger, of course."

Harry chuckled softly. "I guess she rubbed off on me," he said. "And this is actually interesting."

Pomfrey looked at the cover and sighed. "Ah yes," she said. "The Animagus hullaballoo that Professor McGonagall got started this year. I've already had my share of mishaps concerning inadequate transformations. So do try to be careful when you practice, alright? I'll already be seeing plenty of you as it is."

"I'll stick to theory then," Harry promised as he glanced at his unexpected roommate. "So er… is that what happened to them? A transformation gone wrong?"

Pomfrey tutted. "That is no concern of yours," she said strictly. "As it is no concern of anyone else that you are here, now is it?"

"I suppose," Harry agreed. "But I thought it would be nice to have someone to talk to while I'm here. Hermione can't very well keep me company all the time. She still has to eat."

"Speaking of eating," Pomfrey said, ignoring Harry's plea. "Food does seem to be in order. Though Professor Snape and I have come to the agreement that it would be best if you partake of your meals in your common room."

"What?" Harry stammered. "Not here?"

Pomfrey chuckled. "If you would prefer it, I would not be opposed to you staying where I can keep an eye on you. But your head of house seems to think you'll be in better mental shape if you're able to retain some form of normalcy between our sessions."

"But eating in the common room," Harry said. "Did Snape specifically say that's allowed?"

"Don't question a good thing, Mr Potter," Pomfrey said kindly. "But if you must know, Professor Snape did tell me that you wish for as little people as possible to know that you remained here as to avoid unnecessary questions. He just wanted to show you a little bit of support in that matter."

"Oh," Harry said stupidly. He couldn't help but feel grateful to Snape, even if all of this sounded unbelievable. But why else would he be given these allowances.

"If you want, you can go anywhere you want," Pomfrey added. "However, if you really need to keep your injuries a secret at this point, we will allow you to use the fireplace to travel back to your common room. Though only during the following two weeks. And if you ever abuse this privilege, you will have no choice but to remain in the hospital wing until you're ready. Do you understand?"

Harry couldn't help but grin widely. This was better than he had dared to hope. "Thank you so much!" he said. "Then – if it's alright with you – I'll go back now, okay?"

"That's fine," Pomfrey said. "If Ms Granger stops by, I'll let her know where you are. Now, go ahead and take a handful of floo powder. The password is 'Quetzalcoatl'. Don't ask why. I don't know what Professor Snape was thinking."

"Quetzalcoatl'," Harry repeated. "I'll remember that. When should I be back?"

"A house elf will summon you when it's time," Pomfrey told him. "But we'll likely wait until after you've had dinner."

Harry nodded his understanding and threw the spilling floo powder into the fireplace. He called out 'Quetzalcoatl' in as clear a voice as he could manage and felt himself stumble and fall for a mere moment before finally falling flat on the floor of the Slytherin common room. He huffed at himself. How was he able to learn the most complicated of spells while floo travel kept eluding him? Honestly.

It was a good thing that there wasn't a soul there. The chances of that were quite high since only a couple of Slytherins were left behind here. And it was honestly bliss. It always felt kind of crowded here. Especially because the Slytherins were granted much less freedom than the Gryffindors were. That meant that the common room was pretty much filled to the brim all the time. Harry would stay away for as long as he could but he tried not breaking the rules to keep Snape from coming after him. But now that no one was here, he could sit wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

He took the best seat in the room in front of the fireplace and stretched his legs and arms, feeling content. It was strange, really. Distinctly odd, even. How could he possibly feel this well after what happened the previous evening? He had been in tremendous pain, even for a little while. He had been plagued by memories, both vivid and fragmented. And he had shown true vulnerability and pain to one of his most hated people as well as one of his closest friends. He knew that he should feel some kind of way about that. That he should feel abashed, at least. And yet, he felt a little bit lighter.

Feeling a slight and comfortable drowsiness, Harry stared into the dying fire as it stopped licking the grate and instead receded into the leftover logs until they were nothing but red embers, glowing faintly.

"Huh," Harry said as he stared at the back of the fireplace. "There's another snake there."

He slid down onto his knees and stared into the brick hearth, careful not to touch the slumbering cinders. He slowly inched forward to get a better look. Now that he was close to it, he thought it strange that he had never noticed the carving before. It was rather large and depicted an aggressive cobra in attack stance with its hood up and its fangs bared. Harry supposed that when the fire was burning, it might be hard to catch especially because it was carved into dark, soot-stained brick. And it was likely that the snake had been noticed by Slytherins before but they probably didn't think it special. In fact, Harry couldn't be sure that itwasspecial, indeed.

"What are you doing?"

Harry startled and banged his head against the roof of the grate before quickly retreating backwards. "Ow, Hermione," he complained. "Couldn't you have warned me or something?"

"Sorry," Hermione teased. "I guess I didn't expect to see you with your head in there. Were you fire-calling someone or something?"

"Fire-what?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Never mind," she said. "But if not that, what were you doing? Oh, honestly Harry, your face is full of soot!" She pulled out a white napkin and moistened it with a small Aguamenti charm after which she started to wipe Harry's face.

"Hermione, stop," Harry chuckled. "I'll shower later. I promise!" He playfully swatted her hands away.

Hermione huffed. "Well, I suppose you won't be going to the great hall this way, are you? Just don't show up in the hospital wing like this."

"Yeah, I can't make that promise," Harry said. "Floo travel always makes me… well… sooty."

"Diving into fireplaces head first will do that too," Hermione admonished. "Were you trying to set your hair on fire or something?"

"I was just checking out that snake," Harry said.

"Snake?" Hermione asked. "Oh, I see it. Er… pretty."

Harry chuckled. "I'm not checking it out because it's pretty. I want to try talking to it to see if it would move."

Hermione frowned. "And why would it do that?"

"Well," Harry said, doubting for a moment if he should tell Hermione or not. But, his friend already knew the very worst of him andheknew aboutherstruggles as well. If they could trust each other with that, why couldn't he do so with this? "All of these snakes respond in one way or another to Parseltongue. And it appears that some of them actually lead to treasure."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed. "That's –"

"Snape knows about it," Harry interrupted before she could say anything. "So, I'm not doing anything wrong. All he wants is for me to let him know when I find something important."

"I was going to say that's magnificent," Hermione said giddily. "Goodness, a Parseltongue is quite rare, indeed. I mean, You-Know-Who was one, obviously, but maybe he never found out about those snakes to begin with! And with you being in Gryffindor, you never had the chance to try either, I suppose, but now that you're here, this is a golden opportunity! Oh, it's no wonder that Professor Snape would agree. I bet he's eager to find out about Slytherin's secrets as well but of course he would need your help. Oh can you please talk to that snake so I can see what you're talking about?"

Harry laughed after Hermione was done talking. He should have foreseen this kind of reaction. "Fine," he said. "But sometimes it takes a couple of tries to get it to move. It kind of depends on what I say."

"Of course," Hermione said. "No time like the present." She was practically jumping up and down with glee.

Harry made himself comfortable on the floor and sat cross-legged. Hermione threw down a pillow next to him and sat down as well, staring at the snake that was staring back at her.

"Move," Harry tried. Nothing.

"Sssshow me the way," was another one that often worked. Not this time, though.

"Reveal your ssssecretssss," was one he had learned from Snape but this one didn't urge the snake to move either.

"I am speaking Parseltongue, right?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Oh, absolutely," Hermione said, not in the least bit perturbed by the hissing sounds. "Keep trying. I'm sure you'll get it. Maybe try and get it to speak to you?"

Harry shrugged. "Sssspeak," he tried. Nope.

Wait a moment. What about… "Open,"

Harry and Hermione jumped back simultaneously when a loud creaking and groaning suddenly filled the quiet common room. The fireplace itself started to tremble and - for a moment - Harry wondered if it would still be usable after this. But that quiet thought vanished quickly when the stone wall behind the grate fell inward with a loud bang, then moved sideways to reveal a narrow passageway that seemed to curve downwards.

"No way," Hermione breathed.

Harry peered into the darkness, quickly realising that he couldn't see a thing. He would have to go in to find out more. "So, what do you say?" he said, offering Hermione his hand. "Let's find out what treasures he left behind this time."