"Severus, are you ready? Hermione's waiting to take us to school!" Harry announced as he barrelled into their bedroom.

Severus closed his new black robe over his new purple jumper and black pants. Harry had been ready for the last half hour, practically bouncing off the walls with his enthusiasm. Severus was about to petrify him.

But he knew he wouldn't. Potter might be as immature as the rest of their age group, but he wasn't cruel. Harry never taunted him or made him feel like a freak because of the way he spoke.

Harry's attitude would probably change today, Severus realized, trying to prepare himself for the inevitable. There was nothing like peer pressure to alter one's attitude. Severus remembered all too well how the one or two boys in his last school who hadn't initially treated him like a pariah had learned to do so at their companions' urging. He'd seen how popular Harry was with the Hogwarts students who had remained at school over the holidays. Harry would no doubt have friends at the Hogsmeade school by the end of the day, and by the end of the week Severus knew that he'd be persona non grata again. He'd probably end up rooming in the infirmary.

His stomach clenched at the very idea. The last week and a half here with the Weasleys had been the best of his life. He hadn't been punished or beaten once. As long as he kept his sarcasm in check, Hermione treated him pretty much the same as she did Potter. Even her halfwit husband had stopped glaring at him. He was starting to feel . . . safe here, and he'd never really felt that way before. Pity, it would all have to change.

Severus stared into the mirror over their dresser, still not accustomed to the sight of the pony tail he'd been wearing since Hermione had first fixed it for him. He looked so different. Surely, the changes went more than skin deep. Maybe . . . maybe there was a chance things wouldn't go all wrong for him at this school. Maybe if he kept quiet, he'd be able to fit in for once and there would be no teasing.

And maybe he'd grow a new personality in the next half hour! There was no way he could fit in. He never had, never would. His name and upbringing made it impossible for his Muggle-blood classmates to interact with him; while the purebloods . . . they knew what he was. His grandmother could force him to carry himself like one of her kind, but even children their age were conscious of pedigrees. They didn't understand the nature of the scandal surrounding him, but they were aware of it. And no matter what airs he put on, the purebloods still knew that he carried his mother's last name.

That probably wouldn't matter too much to Harry, Severus thought, surreptitiously watching as the other boy stuffed the singing handkerchief Hermione had bought him at Zonko's into his pocket. Harry was Muggle-raised, so he was refreshingly ignorant of Wizarding social standing. However, when their class started treating Potter's roommate like a freak, that he'd notice. Unpopularity by association was a strong inducement for joining the throng. It was only a matter of time before Potter joined the ranks of his tormentors.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked again, looking like he was about to burst with enthusiasm.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Severus answered, turning from the mirror.

"You don't seem too happy about going to our new school. Don't you like school? You're so smart, I thought you'd love it," Harry said from the end of his bed where he was fussing with his school bag again.

"I enjoy learning new things," Severus said, hoping that would put an end to the discussion. Potter was usually so easily distracted by everything in his new world that it was normally very easy to change a troublesome conversational topic without his noticing.

Severus' luck appeared to be holding true, however, and this was not one of those occasions.

Potter tilted his head to the side and peered up at him out of those ridiculous round glasses. "You didn't answer the question. You don't like school, do you?"

Severus considered lying, then gave it up as a lost cause. In little under an hour Potter would fully understand why he dreaded school. A lie would do nothing to salvage his pride. So, Severus blanked his features and said with as little malice as he could manage, "Not everyone is as instantly popular as the Boy Who Lived. I like the subjects I learn in school. I'm just not very fond of the company."

Harry's face darkened at the 'Boy Who Lived' comment. Ever since Ron had explained his personal history to him, Potter had been very sensitive about being fussed over because of events he couldn't remember. But once again Potter proved that he wasn't so easily diverted. Instead of taking issue with Severus' crack, Harry looked up at him out of those impossibly innocent green eyes and softly asked, "I remember what you told Hermione last week. The other kids are mean to you, aren't they?"

This would be the one subject about which the cretin showed any perception, Severus silently fumed. Seeing no other course, he gave a tight nod, braced for the worst. All this meant was that the teasing would start now instead of after class, charming.

But Potter surprised him. Instead of reacting gleefully, he quietly offered, "The kids in my old school were awful to me, too. My cousin Dudley was very popular, and a bully, so if they wanted to stay on his good side they had to be mean to me."

"So why are you so excited about going to school here then?" Severus questioned, completely bewildered by Potter.

Harry shrugged. "Everything's been going so good here. Dudley won't be at this school. There won't be any reason for anyone to tease me. I figure it might be fun."

Well, that made sense. If Potter's problems were tied to a specific individual, the removal of that person from his environment might be enough to totally transform his experience. Snape was never that fortunate.

"Ah, I see," Severus said.

"Are they mean to you 'cause you're so smart?" Harry questioned.

Severus re-evaluated his estimation of Potter's perceptiveness. "You've spent nearly two weeks with me. Haven't you figured it out yet?"

"What?" Potter's features revealed his utter incomprehension.

"Would you have spent that time with me if you'd had any other choice?" Severus demanded, tiring of the topic.

"I had a choice, remember?" Potter reminded.

"Are you telling me you don't regret it?" Severus challenged.

Potter seemed genuinely startled. "I don't." Those two simple words shook him. "Why would I?" This last question was voiced as though the very idea was a mystery.

Severus squeezed his eyes shut. He felt too raw and open under that bewildered green gaze. Harry really didn't want to get rid of him.

Potter continued speaking, "I know I annoy you sometimes, but we have fun together, don't we?"

Still not opening his eyes, Severus gave another nod. He wasn't sure he knew what fun was, but . . . Potter did. And he called what they did together fun.

"It will be all right today," Harry said in the tone of a promise.

"How can you be so sure?" Severus opened his eyes and asked. Harry mystified him. He'd heard what Potter's life was like with those Muggles, how they'd locked him in a closet and let their obnoxious offspring bully him. And now Potter had just admitted that he'd had an equally difficult time in school. Their lives weren't all that different. And, yet, their outlooks couldn't be further apart. "How do you know that it's not going to be more terrible than what you left behind?"

"Because things are already different."

"How are they different?"

"It won't be all strangers. Hermione said that we're going to be in the same class. We'll already have one friend there," Potter said.

Snape couldn't have been more flummoxed had Potter pulled out a wand and hexed him. Potter had called him friend. No one had ever done that before. And it wasn't a joke, either. Harry had never looked more serious.

He was about to question Potter when Hermione stuck her head in the open bedroom door. "We have to leave now, boys. Hurry up."

Potter grabbed his book bag and raced over to her. Severus found his own bag and followed.

Bundled into their winter gear, they set out for Hogsmeade.

It was a clear, cold day. The sun was almost blinding on the blue-white fields. Severus thought he'd rather stay home and make snow forts.

"I'm going to take you today because it's your first day," Hermione said, "but Hagrid has agreed to take you the rest of the time. Is that all right?"

"I like Hagrid," Harry said, swinging Hermione and his joined hands as they walked along the snowbound road.

Since Harry seemed to like everyone, including him, that hardly seemed a very discerning comment.

Hermione appeared pleased by it, however. "He was your very first friend. It was Hagrid who tracked you down and gave you your Hogwarts acceptance letter when you were eleven. Your aunt and uncle had refused to let you open the first thousand or so Professor Dumbledore sent."

His stomach still quite queasy over his impending humiliation, Severus stopped listening as Harry blithered on about something or the other. Normally, Potter was fairly quiet, but when he was with Hermione he seemed to behave just as silly as most boys their age did.

All too soon, they reached the little schoolhouse on the edge of Hogsmeade. Severus stared up at the snow-topped, two story, fieldstone building. It was a pleasant enough looking place. There was a playground out back, as well as a children's quidditch pitch. There was really no reason for the mere sight of it to give him stomach cramps, but it did.

He watched a trio of boys a few years older than them race up the stairs and through the wooden doors.

He took a deep breath, not realizing how tight a hold he had on Hermione's hand until she squeezed his own back and he noted that his muscles were clenched so tight she could barely budge his skin.

She paused them on the school steps and gazed down at them both. The sun was sparking bronze highlights in her bushy hair. "I need you to promise me something, all right?"

"What?" Severus asked as Harry simultaneously answered, "Sure."

"I know that all of this is temporary and that you'll both be returned to your former selves as soon as we figure out how to reverse whatever happened," she began. Severus refrained from pointing out that if they had to wait that long, they'd probably be full-grown again. "Until that time, you, me, and Ron are sort of a family. Families take care of each other. While you're at school, I want you to look out for each other as though you were really brothers, okay?"

She gave both their hands another squeeze as they nodded.

Severus didn't know what to say. No one had ever voiced any concern for his well being before.

"I'm going to take you to your classroom door, but I think I'll save you the embarrassment and say goodbye to you here." With that, Hermione bent down and pressed a quick kiss to Severus' brow and then turned to do the same to Potter.

Harry's entire face lit up.

Severus could only gape at her, literally stunned speechless. He was still so startled by her affectionate gesture that he followed her into the schoolhouse, barely noticing where he was. They stopped at a door halfway down a long corridor.

Hermione knocked.

A heavy set, brown haired wizard with clear blue eyes opened the door. He was dressed in teachers' black robes that were nearly identical to those Hermione was wearing beneath her winter cloak. "Ah, here you are. Welcome, Mr. Potter, Mr. Snape."

"Boys," Hermione said, "this is Professor Allen."

"Hello," Harry and he said almost together.

"Thank you for taking them into your class so late in the term, Professor," Hermione said.

"My pleasure," Allen answered, beaming at them. "I never thought I'd have the opportunity to teach the Boy Who Lived."

The professor was wearing the same idiotic expression that some of those Gryffindor fools had in the Great Hall this morning when Headmistress McGonagall had explained the situation to the school.

Harry was already frowning.

"Well, I suppose I'd better get back. Have a good day, boys!" Hermione smiled.

"If you'll come this way," Professor Allen said. "Take a seat anywhere you like."

Harry and he exchanged a nervous glance and followed the portly professor into a classful of strangers.

All eyes turned their way as they entered. A whisper of, "Look, he really does have the scar," came from somewhere nearby with another of, "My mum says he was a Death Eater," following it.

Severus straightened up to his full height and scowled at them all. He heard the gulp Harry gave from a foot away.

They both stood inside the doorway scanning the room. The classroom looked very much like the empty ones they'd passed in Hogwarts for the last two weeks. Four rows of benches across the room, six back, two students per bench. There were two empty benches at the front of the room and three in the back.

Snape could see Harry eyeing the benches near the back of the room, but experience had taught him that the troublemakers were bolder the further they were positioned from the teacher's desk. With that thought in mind, Severus slid into the front bench nearest the door. He was somewhat surprised when Harry took the seat beside him.

"Well," Professor Allen said, "now that everyone is here, I believe we should introduce ourselves again as we did on our first day of class for the benefit of our new arrivals."

Once that odious chore was concluded, Professor Allen started teaching. As usual, nothing was covered that Severus didn't already know. Harry, however, seemed to be understandably lost through quite a few of the subjects. Muggle math and English were apparently pretty much the same and Potter seemed fine with those, but it was clear that the Beginners Latin and Beginners Potions were new to Harry.

Lunch break seemed to take forever to arrive. The class broke in the usual noisy chaos. Harry and he stopped in the lavatory before heading down to the lunchroom, which Professor Allen had been kind enough to give directions to before dismissing them.

"I'll wait for you outside, Severus," Harry called after completing his business.

Snape quickly finished up and washed his hands. He was about to exit the bathroom when a voice on the other side of the door stopped him.

"Hey, there, Harry!" a boy's voice greeted.

"Hello," Potter said.

"I'm Jonathan Crater. This is Barnaby Williams and Grant Soloman. How'd you like your first morning?"

"It was good," Harry answered without his usual enthusiasm.

"We're going to play some Exploding Snap at lunch. Do you want to join us?" Another voice eagerly invited.

"I'm waiting for my friend," Harry said.

"You mean Snape?" the Exploding Snap voice asked.

"Yes," Harry replied.

"You don't know about him, do you?" Crater questioned. "My mum said he used to be a Death Eater."

"I don't know what that is," Harry said.

"So, it's true then, what Professor Allen said about your being accidentally cursed back into childhood?" Yet another voice asked. "You really don't remember anything about the war and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"We don't know that it's a curse," Harry explained. "I've heard about the war and Voldemort, but I don't remember any of it."

"Death Eaters were Voldemort's lackeys. They used to kill and torture for him. Your friend Snape used to be one," Crater said in an ugly tone.

Behind the door, Severus froze. He'd looked the Death Eaters up in Hogwart's library after he'd heard Ron call him one. He still couldn't believe he could have been part of such a group.

"Severus was working for the good guys," Harry said.

"You don't know that," the Exploding Snap voice pointed out.

"Yes, I do," Harry insisted.

"How?" Crater asked. "You just said that you don't remember a thing!"

"Maybe not, but I know Severus. He wouldn't do anything bad without a really good reason. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go."

Feeling the door beneath his hand start to push in, Severus quickly darted back into the cubicle he'd just vacated. His legs shaking, he sank back down onto the commode. That was the first time anyone had ever said anything positive about him like that in his life. Harry had sounded so sure, and so angry with those other boys on his behalf . . . but Harry was so wrong about this, for Ron had said that he'd been a Death Eater, which meant he'd done all those terrible things . . . .

"Severus?" Harry called from the other side of the stall door.

"Yes?" he tried to keep his voice level, but even he could hear the quaver in it.

"Your robe is stuck in the door. It wasn't like that before."

Severus glared at the offending garment. Potter was right. He'd caught the hem in the cubicle door during his hasty retreat.

"Come out," Harry urged.

Knowing he'd appear even more foolish if he delayed, Severus rose to his feet and slowly opened the door.

"You heard," Harry said. It wasn't a question.

Snape nodded.

"Do you know what that 'Death Eater' stuff they were talking about is?" Harry asked him.

Biting his lower lip, he nodded again and then explained before Harry was forced to ask again, "I looked it up in the library. Basically, what they told you was true. The Death Eaters were Voldemort's henchmen. They did his dirty work. They killed, tortured, and performed Unforgivable Curses for him on a regular basis." Snape looked down at the white tiles beneath his black leather boots. "Ron said I used to be one of them."

Harry didn't say anything for a long time.

When Severus finally dared the other boy's gaze, he was startled by the lack of disgust. Harry seemed to study him forever, then his hand came up to give Severus' left arm a squeeze. "It doesn't make any sense. They wouldn't let someone who did all that teach in the most famous Wizarding school, would they?"

Severus held Harry's green gaze. "I wouldn't think so."

"So, it's got to be wrong, then," Harry insisted.

"Perhaps. But what – what if I really did it?"

Harry appeared troubled by the question for a moment, but then the wrinkle furrowing his lightning scar smoothed back down as he said, "Hermione wouldn't be so nice to you if you'd done those terrible things. It can't be true."

Such faith. Where did he get it from?

Snape averted his eyes again. He could feel his cheeks warming as he began, "The other boys – "

"Are idiots. Don't pay any attention to them," Harry advised. "Come on. Let's go get lunch. I'm hungry."

Severus couldn't have kept food down at that point if his life had depended on it, but he followed Harry out of the lavatory and down to the lunchroom in the basement. As they made their way down the stone stairs together, something in Severus wanted to reach out and touch Harry to assure himself that the other boy was real. But he managed to refrain from further embarrassing himself.

Instead, he planted himself at Harry's side and resolved to remain there. He didn't know how Harry had kept his faith in people and his enthusiasm after the horrible life he'd led. All he knew was that Harry hadn't deserted him when anyone with half a brain would have been long gone. That kind of loyalty was beyond his ken. Severus knew that he would never understand what motivated Harry. The world had always seemed completely unforgiving of such innocence. He was ashamed to recall how he'd ridiculed Harry for these very traits during the first days of their acquaintance. But never again, he vowed. Whatever it was that allowed Harry to believe as he did, Severus was determined to protect it.

Perhaps in some small way that might make up for the terrible things he might have done if Harry were wrong about him.

************

Hermione looked up from the medieval curse book she was searching. The spell book was so dark, and so dry. It was hard to keep at it, hour after hour. But she had to keep searching.

Six weeks had passed since Christmas. Neither St. Mungo's nor the Ministry had come up with a workable solution to their problem. Harry and Severus were still seven year olds. Hogwarts' other teachers were on the verge of collapse from the extra workload of covering two vacant positions. And she and Ron were missing the adult Harry something fierce. A hundred times a day, she'd turn to tell Harry something, only to find the wide, green eyes of a child gazing up at her.

She glanced over to the table where Severus and Harry were just finishing up their homework. She was amazed at how well they were getting along. They were virtually inseparable these days. The patience Severus exhibited while helping Harry grasp the basics of Wizarding, that his Muggle upbringing hadn't prepared him for, astonished her. Snape hardly ever got snarky with the smaller boy. He just explained things in different ways until Harry understood. Although she'd acknowledged his expertise in potion making, she'd never thought of Severus as a very good teacher before. She was seeing a whole new side of him with Harry.

"Are we done yet?" Harry asked, as close to a whine as she could recall.

"We'd better be," Severus said.

"Great! Want to play Exploding Snap?" Harry questioned as they put their homework away.

Harry was nothing if not an eternal optimist, she thought, wondering how many times Severus would have to say no before Harry got the point that Severus simply didn't enjoy the child's game.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up to her hairline as Severus gave a resigned, "All right."

Ron sat up straighter in the chair across from her own and exchanged a shocked look with her as Harry took out his cards.

The boys scrambled down onto the carpet in front of the fireplace at their feet and began to play.

Hermione gave Ron a 'who knows?' shrug and tried to return her attention to her book, but it was impossible. The sight of those two dark heads – one a messy jumble of short black hair, the other a neat pony tail – bent together was simply too distracting.

The boys were obviously doing their best to keep their voices down so as not to disturb the adults, but every few minutes one or the other of them would start laughing. Hearing Severus laugh was still a shock to her. Although he was quieter about it than Harry, and seemed to do it only when he couldn't control himself, Snape had an earthy chuckle that filled the room.

Hermione smiled. "I could get used to this, Ron."

He gave her a mock frown, but his eyes were warm as he said, "You may have to. It's been nearly two months, with no end in sight."

"I know. It hasn't been so bad, though, has it?" she quizzed in a soft voice during an especially loud burst of laughter from the floor as both boys tussled over a card. Ron hadn't wanted Severus here at all. She'd never expected the situation to last this long when she'd forced the issue. She just hadn't been able to condemn any child, even Severus Snape, to the infirmary during Christmas week. Ron hadn't complained, but that didn't mean he was happy with the set up.

"Nah, it hasn't," he said in an equally subdued tone. "I love being able to do things with Harry that no one ever bothered to do when he was this small. And Snape hasn't been any trouble, much to my surprise."

Hermione took a deep breath, thanking her stars that her husband's fair nature usually prevailed over his occasional bouts of childishness. These last few months could have been sheer hell if Ron hadn't cooperated.

She hid a smile as she noticed an inky dark gaze sweeping over Ron from the floor. Severus looked as though he were completely absorbed in what he was doing with Harry, but she knew that he was taking in every word they said. It was little wonder that he'd made such a good spy for Albus. Even at seven he was frightfully good at disappearing into the scenery.

"Any luck?" Ron asked, gesturing at the tome in her lap.

"Surely, you jest? My eyes are about to roll out of my head," she sighed.

"Give it a rest for the night, Hermy," he advised as a loud explosion sounded from the carpet.

"I win!" Severus crowed.

He was never a good winner or loser, Hermione sadly noted.

"Another game?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Not right now," Severus refused. "I want to savour my victory."

To her delight, Harry just laughed at Severus' intolerable attitude.

"I'll play you, Harry," she volunteered.

"Oh," Ron said, a little glumly. "I was going to ask you to play Wizards' Chess."

"You know I'm no competition for you," Hermione reminded. "Every time we play, you spend twenty minutes beating me and then the remainder of the night lecturing me on what I did wrong."

"Yes. Well . . . ." he was too honest to protest.

Both Harry and Severus chuckled at Ron's expression.

Ron glanced down at the floor. "You play chess, don't you, Severus?"

Severus appeared as shocked by Ron's question as they'd been by Snape's laughter.

"Yes, I do," Severus replied, his features tense and grim.

Hermione found herself holding her breath. For the last six weeks Ron and Severus had managed to exist in these small quarters with zero interaction. Most times it was almost as though they couldn't even see each other.

This was the first time in weeks that she could recall Ron speaking directly to Snape. Ron tolerated his childhood nemesis for her sake, she knew. Even though she was happy the two were finally beginning to communicate on some level, she hoped that her husband wouldn't inadvertently frighten or upset Severus. The seven-year-old Snape had impassivity down to an art form, but she'd seen that there was a lot more to him than that frowning visage. Severus mightn't show everything he was feeling, but she suspected he felt it all quite deeply.

"Would you care for a game?" Ron asked, almost as guarded as the boy.

"Yes, thank you," Severus replied with perfect formality. He scrabbled to his feet as Ron put aside the parchments he was grading.

They both appeared nervous as cats as they approached the table. Ron retrieved his chess set from the breakfront in the corner, then they sat down across from each other and began to set up their pieces.

Hermione glanced over at her companion. Harry was watching Severus and Ron as well. When he noticed her gaze, Harry smiled and whispered, "They'll be all right."

"You think?" she grinned.

"I know. And it's your turn," Harry reminded.

Both she and Harry appeared to be paying more attention to the chess game taking place a few feet away than to the cards in their hands. Despite his assurance, Hermione could see that Harry was fully as concerned as she that Ron and Severus' uneasy truce would devolve into a shouting match with closer contact.

Aside from the soft shifting of chess pieces and the occasional crashing as one piece pounded another, the table was ominously silent.

After about five minutes, Severus complained, "I'm not a baby. You don't have to let me win."

"All right, then," Ron agreed.

Pieces could be heard banging each other into oblivion at a much more frequent rate after that.

Fifteen minutes or so later, they heard Severus gasp as Ron announced with far too much gusto for a full grown man playing a seven year old, "Check and mate, I believe."

Hermione and Harry paid close attention to their cards at that point, neither of them daring to look in Severus' direction.

The silence was unbearable.

Finally, Ron broke it. Sounding extraordinarily like his father, Ron reasonably asked, "So, do you want to pout about losing all night or play again so that I can show you how to prevent that from happening next time?"

Hermione sneaked a peak at Severus. It was just as she'd feared. He was sitting there staring at his fallen king with a face like a storm cloud. As she watched, he bit his lower lip and then glanced tentatively up at Ron.

"You'll teach me how to do that?" Severus sounded astounded.

"Yeah, if you stop glaring at me," Ron bargained.

"Agreed," Severus said stiffly.

"And if you two are going to spend the night staring at us, you may as well come up here and join us," Ron said, making both Harry and her jump in surprise. Ron's back was to them. He shouldn't have known they were watching.

Harry and she abandoned all pretext of playing and climbed to their feet.

Hermione moved to stand behind Ron. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned on him, pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of his loose, red curls.

Harry stood beside the table for a second and then moved over to Severus' chair. Harry never said a word, but Severus slid over to make room for the smaller boy on his seat.

Ron's arm slipped around her waist and drew her down onto his lap as he began to play again.

Relishing how cosy it felt to have them all gathered around the table like this, Hermione relaxed against Ron's chest and watched him teach the seven-year-old Severus chess moves that were so complex, she could barely follow them. But Severus did. He seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

**********

Severus woke with a start. He looked around in confusion. The single torch on the far wall was still lit and filling their bedroom with its dim orange light. It wasn't morning. Hermione hadn't called them for school, so why was he awake?

A second later, he heard the moan from the other bed. Harry was crying in his sleep again. Three, sometimes four nights a week the other boy was troubled with bad dreams. Normally, Severus tried to give Harry his privacy and pretend to have slept through the disturbance, but tonight Harry was particularly loud.

A few months ago he would have only been irritated about having been awoken, but now Severus was worried. Harry's dreams weren't like his own. They left Harry a shaking wreck afterwards.

Not liking how upset Harry sounded, Severus slipped out of his bed to pad barefoot across the cold floor. Even with the thick rugs on the floor, the castle was still drafty and freezing on a winter's night. He was covered in goosebumps by the time he reached the bed opposite his.

Harry's face was scrunched up with emotion, silver trails of tears streaming down his cheeks as he tossed and turned under his tangled blankets, begging 'no' to something.

Severus watched for a moment and then eased onto the edge of the bed.

"Harry?" he called softly, giving the dreaming boy's arm a shake. "Harry, wake up."

Wild-eyed, Harry shot up in the bed and propelled himself right at Severus' chest.

Startled, Severus caught him. He wrapped his arms around the shaking back as Harry buried his wet face in the front of his nightshirt. He could feel the other boy's small fingers clutching the back of his nightshirt as Harry held on for dear life.

Harry was trying so hard to control himself, almost choking on his efforts to hold back his sobs. After an awkward moment, Severus laid his palm on Harry's back and patted him.

"Do you want me to get Hermione?" Severus asked, aware of how inadequate he was when it came to emotional issues. Surely, Harry would prefer to be comforted by someone kind.

"No, p-please . . . d-don't b-bother her," Harry whispered.

Remembering the question Hermione would ask on the nights Harry's cries would bring her in, Severus softly asked, "Do you want to talk about your nightmare?"

Harry shrugged, his arms tightening around him. "It's the same as usual. There's this scary green fire everywhere and then the evil laughing and . . . and a woman screaming. I don't know why it scares me so much."

Severus did. He considered carefully before asking his next question. "Does your scar hurt when you have the dream?"

He felt Harry draw in a shuddering breath. "How'd you know?"

"Green flame is a sign of dark magic being used. I think you're remembering the curse that killed your parents," he gently offered. "Ron said you saw it happen. On some level, you've got to remember it."

"I guess you could be right. I don't remember them, though," Harry's voice was thick with sorrow.

"According to the story, you were only a year old when it happened. How could you have a clear memory of anything that far back? It had to be the most terrifying thing that ever happened to you, and you were too little to understand it."

Harry seemed to digest that for a long time as he rested against Severus' chest.

It was strange to hold someone like this. The only experience Severus had with anything like this were the brief hugs Hermione sometimes gave them. And those were different.

It took a while for Severus to figure out how it was different, but eventually he understood. When Hermione did this, she was offering them comfort. This was the first time in his life that he had been called upon to offer solace to someone else. And, even though he didn't know what he was doing and was probably completely inefficient at this, it felt good.

Harry certainly didn't seem to find his offering lacking in any way, he thought as the smaller boy's breathing slowly calmed. Therefore, he was surprised to feel Harry stiffen in his arms and pull swiftly away a few minutes later.

"I'm sorry," Harry said in a rush, his face as close to panic as Severus had ever seen it.

"For what?"

Those nearsighted green eyes peered up at him. "I know you don't like to be touched. I didn't mean to – "

Harry self-consciously gestured at Severus' tear-darkened nightshirt front.

"It's not that I don't like to be touched, it's just . . ." Severus swallowed hard and continued, "I'm just not accustomed to it. The only time anyone ever touched me at my grandparents' was when they were reprimanding me." He held Harry's myopic gaze. "I know you won't hurt me."

Severus crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the night cold now that Harry had withdrawn from him.

Harry seemed to notice his gesture. Potter scooted further into the bed, untangled the blankets and crawled back beneath them. With his typical generosity of spirit, Harry lifted the covers up, patted the space he'd just vacated, and invited, "Come on. Get warm."

Severus climbed in, glad of the warmth as Harry settled the blankets around them both. They pulled the covers up to their shoulders and then turned to face each other across Harry's rumpled pillow.

"I'd never let anyone hurt you," Harry said in a strangely fierce voice once they were settled. "You're my best friend."

That still befuddled Severus. Harry had had ample opportunities to form other attachments in their new school, but even though Harry did occasionally play with the other boys, Harry always made sure that he, Severus, was included in the games and still spent the majority of his time with him.

"You're my only friend," Severus softly replied.

After a silent moment, Harry gave a loud gulp and asked in a tentative tone, "Did your grandparents hurt you a lot?"

Suddenly, the air seemed thin and unbreathable. Severus couldn't understand why such a simple question should make his blood run cold.

He didn't really want to answer, but Harry had told him about all the horrible things those Muggles had done to him. He wasn't such a coward that he would lie now that Harry had openly asked him. So, taking a shaky breath, he answered, "All the time."

"Did they hit you?"

"When I was lucky." Severus tried for calm.

"What does that mean?" Harry didn't sound as though he were sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"There are ways to punish a person with magic that make whipping seem like a love tap," Severus explained. "There's a curse called the Cruciatus that sends every nerve in your body into extreme agony. That's the worst one. But there's another that makes your skin feel like it's been scalded that's nearly as bad. And another that makes your head feel like it's bursting and your eyes go blind . . . ."

"Your grandparents did all that to you?" Harry gaped.

Severus nodded. He'd never told anyone about this. He felt naked and terribly vulnerable, and not a little bit dirty. After all, these types of things were never done to normal children. Even Harry, who was the most abused boy he'd ever met after himself, seemed horrified.

"I know you act like a grownup most of the time, but you're really only my age," Harry said. "What could you have done that was so bad that they felt they had to punish you like that?"

"I suppose I misbehaved. But mostly they just look for excuses to punish me. Tormenting me seems to be their only pleasure in life," Severus admitted.

"But . . . it doesn't make any sense. You're their grandchild!"

Severus stared at Harry's dimly lit features, considering. Should he tell him the truth? Put it all out there in the open and see if Harry were still his friend afterward?

"What is it, Severus?" Harry asked softly.

"My mother . . . my mother's family were purebred Slytherins as far back as Hogwarts existed. My mother was an only child. She was a Slytherin herself, but she . . . she fell in love with a Gryffindor. To add insult to injury, he was a Muggle-born gypsy. My grandparents hated him and forbade her to see him, but she . . . ."

"Yes?" Harry gently encouraged, placing a hand on the wrist that was holding the blankets up to his neck.

Severus stared at Harry's hand for a long moment and then continued, "She ran off with him right after graduation. Her parents tracked her down and . . . well, let's just say that my father didn't last out the night."

"They killed him?" Harry gasped.

Severus nodded. "Sometimes they brag about how he died."

"What – what happened to your mom after that?" Harry sounded almost afraid to ask.

"My grandparents dragged her back to their estate. They were going to make her go through with this marriage they'd arranged with one of the Malfoy cousins, only . . . ."

"Only?"

Severus bit his lip and just said it. "Only she was pregnant with me. It was the worst scandal imaginable."

"Why?" Harry asked.

Severus opened his mouth to explain, but . . . for all the mistreatment that Harry had endured, Potter hadn't grown up in an environment where perversion and sadism were the rule. Those Muggles might have been horrible, but Harry was still a child. He had no more knowledge of the ways of the world than a seven year old should. And Severus knew it wasn't his place to change that.

So, he found a way to explain that wouldn't broaden Harry's horizons any more than necessary. "You know that a mother and father are supposed to be married before they have a baby?" Harry nodded. "Mine never got married. That's supposed to be a bad thing."

"Oh." Harry gave his wrist a squeeze. "It can't be bad if it made you, right?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I think . . . ." Unable to make that kind of self-destructive statement to those innocent, concerned eyes, Severus cut the thought off.

"So what happened after that?" Harry asked.

"You know that there are ways to make a woman not have a baby?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia always told me my mother should've had an abrortion," Harry whispered.

"Abortion," Severus automatically corrected. "Her parents wanted her to get one, but my mother was too far along to have one, so they had to let me be born. I think they were going to kill me after she had me and make her marry that Malfoy, only . . . . I don't know if they did something to her while I was still inside her or if she just missed my father so much that she got sick, but . . . she died when I was born. She was their only child, so if they didn't keep me, the Snape line would die out. So they kept me, but they hated me because I looked so much like my father. And because I killed my mother. That's why they like to hurt me."

His heart pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst, he waited the inevitable rejection.

But Harry didn't look disgusted, at least not with him. After a moment when it seemed that Harry might start crying again, the other boy firmed his features.

"You didn't kill your mother," Harry insisted, throwing an arm over him and pulling him close. "Don't even think that!"

Severus froze, totally unprepared for the reaction. He'd hoped that Harry wouldn't turn away from him completely after the revelation of his scandalous birth, but it had never occurred to him that Harry would be upset on his behalf.

He was shaking all over. When Harry pulled him even tighter, Severus buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck and just tried to breathe. Harry's hand was rubbing his back in circles, the way he'd sometimes see Hermione do for Harry after one of his nightmares.

And, somehow, even though telling Harry didn't change anything that had happened, the fact that Harry could know his repulsive history and still offer him kindness seemed to change his entire world. If asked, he would have died for Harry Potter at that moment.

Gradually, the trembling stopped. Severus knew that he should get up and go back to his own bed, but he was too comfortable to even think of moving. Harry's hand was still rubbing soft circles on his back when he dropped off to sleep.

**********