The power vibrating through the room cut off like a doused candle as the front door slammed behind Harry.

Severus was more than a little surprised that he was still breathing. He'd never seen Harry that furious before. Well, not at him since they'd become lovers. Harry had been equally incensed at Burke.

Not that Harry didn't have reason for his anger. Severus knew how unconscionable what he'd done was. Harry's restraint was incomprehensible. He had fully expected to meet the same fate Burke had. There had certainly been enough power in the room to incinerate him, but Harry had held back.

Not sure if he were disappointed or relieved, Severus moved from the wall back to his chair on suddenly shaky legs.

There was a part of him that still couldn't believe what he'd done to Harry. He still had no true understanding of why he'd done it. All he knew was that erasing Harry's memory had seemed a good idea at the time. The way accepting the Dark Mark had seemed a good idea. His life was nothing but a series of such disastrous choices.

And now he'd alienated Harry forever.

The tightness in his throat made him wonder if maybe Harry had placed some kind of delayed strangulation curse on him, but, no, the stinging in his eyes was only too familiar. He'd successfully fought off this reaction since Harry had rescued him from Burke's dungeon in January. No matter what, he'd held it together and maintained his controls.

But he didn't seem to have the strength for it tonight. Harry was gone forever, and he was left here alone in this room where they had made love on every single piece of furniture at one time or another. No matter where he looked, there was a memory of a happy Harry loving and caressing him.

In typical Slytherin fashion, he'd repaid that love with betrayal. He couldn't help but wonder what it was about the members of his house that made such an outcome inevitable. He hated the stereotypes the other houses held of Slytherin, but there was no denying that he'd lived down to every one of them this time around.

Harry . . . .

Rather than subsiding, the trembling in his legs seemed to be spreading throughout his entire body. There would be no undoing this, no apologizing. How could anyone possibly make amends for violating someone's trust as he'd done? Even if he somehow managed to pull himself together in the future and attain something like sanity again, Harry would hate him forever after this.

They were well and truly over.

He knew this was better for Harry. He'd already found a far more suitable lover. It would only be a matter of time before their entire affair faded from Harry's mind. Harry would be happy.

Severus tried to be noble and take comfort from that fact, but at the moment, he was shaking too badly to take comfort in anything. The only comfort he'd ever had in this world had just walked out the door.

The enormity of his transgression felt insurmountable.

The first sob escaped him as a strangely loud, hiccupping sound that echoed through the room like a pistol blast. The second followed close on its heels. By the time the third emerged, he was no longer conscious of the sounds he was making. All he knew was the miserable mess he'd made of his life.

His arms wrapped tight around his chest, Severus lowered his head and let the tears he'd resisted for two bitter months claim him.

*~*~*

It was nearly seven a.m. when Harry slipped back into John Shepford's room at the Whistling Witch. The sun was just starting to rise on another dreary grey day.

John was up, fully dressed, and closing the zipper on his travel bag when Harry entered.

"Hi," John said with a smile. His hair was still damp from the shower. He looked sexy as hell.

"Hi," Harry replied, hoping that his smile didn't look as forced as it felt.

"I'm glad you made it back," John said, moving closer.

Harry supposed that it was too much to hope that John would fail to notice the instinctive freeze his body gave. He might be mad as hell at Severus, but there was still a part of him that felt he'd been unfaithful, for all that Severus was ultimately responsible for his fall from grace.

Unfortunately, John was clearly highly sensitized to emotion. He halted right outside his personal space. A confused look coming over him, John asked, "Did I do or say something wrong?"

"No," Harry quickly assured. Running a hand through his wrecked hair, he said, "My life just got real complicated all of a sudden."

Harry knew that 99% of the men he'd had affairs with would have made some sympathetic noise and glossed over what he'd said had he given them a line like that on the morning they were leaving town. But John reached out to lay a non-threatening hand on his arm and asked, "What's going on? You seemed fine all weekend."

"For someone who'd been brainwashed," Harry couldn't help but mutter.

"Huh?" John asked, understandably confused.

"It's a long story," Harry said, wanting to spare John the melodrama. He already felt guilty as hell for slipping out on the guy as he had last night.

"I don't have to be at the airport for five hours. I've got time," John offered.

"You don't need to spend it listening to my sob story."

"Harry, you've been a friend to me. Where I come from, we look after our friends. Come on. Sit down on the end of the bed here." John guided him over to take a seat beside his carryall and then asked, "What's going on? You look like you were sucker punched."

It took him a moment to translate the Muggle reference, and then an even longer moment to try to figure out how to explain what had happened to him. Finally, he said, "I was, in a way. It's . . . a little hard to explain what happened. We talked a lot about magic this weekend. But there are things wizards can do that I didn't go into, mostly because they weren't the sort of things you were likely to run into in the Muggle world."

"That makes sense," John said in a very calm tone, taking a seat a foot or so away from him on the bed and turning to look at him. "Did you run into one of those things?"

"Sort of. Well, actually, I ran into it before I met you."

"What sort of thing are we talking about here?" John asked. "One of those Unmentionables?"

"Unforgivables," Harry automatically corrected, "and, no, it wasn't one of them, thank God. Though, it might as well be. It's the same type of transgression."

"So someone cursed you?" John asked. In between the sex, Harry had given his American lover a crash course on magic. John was a fast study, and they'd both enjoyed it. However, there was only so much a person could learn about magic in two days. He could see John trying to work within his limited parameters of understanding.

"No, it's not a curse, exactly. More like a manipulation," Harry explained.

Which, of course led John to his next question of, "What type of manipulation?"

"Some very powerful wizards are able to combine their magic and will to perform a type of telepathy. A wizard I've been sexually involved with in an exclusive relationship since October used that kind of telepathic skill to make me forget about our relationship," Harry said. "I only remembered because the dream I had last night triggered the memories."

"He what?" John looked horrified. "Your lover did this to you?"

Harry suspected that he'd sounded pretty much the same when Severus had told him about his past on Christmas night. Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself together enough to answer, "Yeah. He's . . . been through a lot lately and he's not really thinking straight right now. A few months ago, we came up against one of those dark wizards I was telling you about. My friend was captured and tortured. By the time we got him back, he was barely alive. He hasn't been himself since. In his own fucked up way, I think he thought he was doing it for my own good."

Harry was surprised to see all the anger fade from John's features.

"You know that I'm, ah, in the military," John said softly after a long pause. "I've been there myself a time or two. Everyone likes to believe they won't break. When you come up against something that shows you different, it's . . . hard to face. It can take months or even years before you start feeling yourself again. I'm not excusing what he did, but I know that right after I got back, I was crazy for months, even if no one could tell but me."

"You were tortured?"

John nodded. "A couple of times. I'm, ah, not really allowed to discuss the details. But, if your friend felt like I did afterwards, he's going to be unstable for a long while."

"I know he's not thinking clearly. It's just . . . ." Harry couldn't even begin to capture the scope of the betrayal he felt with words.

"It hurts, I know," John said. "Do you love him?"

Right now he was so angry at what Severus had done, he wasn't even certain of that answer. Another deep breath helped clear his head some, helped him see the big picture of what he stood to lose here. "I . . . yeah, I do. I'm furious over what he did, but . . . I still love him."

"Then maybe you should talk to him," John suggested.

"Yeah," Harry said. "But not until I calm down. Right now all I want to do is blast him into the stratosphere."

"That's understandable."

Struck by the concern in that handsome face, Harry said, "Not many guys would be this supportive about this kind of thing. Thanks, John."

That adorable blush took John's cheeks again as he reminded, "I suck at one night stands, remember?"

"A fact I'm very grateful for," Harry said. Quiet descended between them and they simply stared at each other. After a time, he broke it with, "I know this development changes everything, but I really am sorry to see you go. You're a good man."

"So are you," John said. "I really appreciate everything you taught me this weekend. I think I've finally got an idea of what I can do."

"It was fun."

"Yeah, it was." John looked away for a minute, gulped and looked back at him. "I, ah, probably should be heading down to the train station."

"If you wanted to have breakfast first, we could floo to London afterwards. Or I could apparate us straight to the airport. No one would see us arrive," Harry assured.

"Apparation is that teleportation you were talking about?"

Seeing John's interest, Harry found a smile and said, "Yeah."

"I think I'd like that," John said, standing. He moved to the corner to retrieve Harry's spare Firebolt. "Um, here's your broom back. You were right. There was nothing like it. Thanks for teaching me."

Knowing how hard it must be for John to part with the broom, how he'd feel if he'd just learned to fly and had to give the broom up immediately afterward, Harry said, "Why don't you keep it? I've got another. This one's just sitting in a corner these days."

"God, I'm tempted, but . . . it won't fit in my luggage. I don't know if I could explain what I'm doing with a broom when I get back to base." John looked really torn.

"We'll shrink it." Harry said, doing so. John's eyes bugged out as they did whenever Harry worked even the simplest spells in his presence. "You could even carry it in your pocket now if you wanted." Realizing that John mightn't know how to expand it again, he took the small notebook out of his robes that he'd been carrying most of yesterday. "I made you up a book of simple spells. The phonetic pronunciation is beside the Latin."

"That's what you were doing when I was in the shower last night?" John asked.

"Yeah. I reckoned you might need some cheat notes when you get back."

"Thanks, Harry. That's really . . . ."

"Cool?" Harry suggested when words seemed to fail John.

The use of his favourite adjective made John smile, as Harry had hoped it would. "Yeah, exactly."

"You up to that breakfast?" Harry asked. He knew he had a lot to think about, a lot of emotion to process after what Severus had done to him, but at the moment, it felt good to not worry about the mess his life was in.

"Yeah, that sounds wonderful."

Side by side, they headed for the door.

*~*~*

Three hours later, Harry stood with John outside Heathrow's security check. Hundreds of Muggles passed them, hurrying about their business. He always forgot how frenetic the Muggle world could be. All the motion made him a little nervous. John, too, seemed unused to it.

"I hate goodbyes," John said.

"Me, too," Harry agreed.

"I don't usually make friends this fast," John said. "I know it didn't start out that way, but that's what it feels like now."

"Yeah," Harry replied. He knew John had to leave, and he knew it was better for everyone if John just disappeared from his world, but . . . he genuinely liked the man. There was a part of him that really didn't want to see him go.

"Sometimes I hate the way the world is," John said, his voice dropping he continued, "I, um, can't even kiss you goodbye."

"My world's not much better."

John seemed to debate something for a moment.

Harry was worried that his friend would say something awkward in these last moments that would ruin the memory of the weekend, but when John spoke, he didn't say anything embarrassing. Instead, he said, "You probably figured out that Shepford isn't my real name."

"Yeah," Harry said.

John dug into the pocket of his black leather jacket and extracted a piece of paper. It was the same pocket he was carrying his new wand in. Harry could see the bulge the wand made in the leather.

"I, um, know that everything changed with you when you got your memories back, but . . . I like you, Harry. I'd like to keep in touch with you. Write me and let me know how things work out with your friend – either way. This isn't a come-on. I'd just like to know."

Touched, Harry stared down at the paper John placed in his hand. It had John's real name and the military base he could be reached at written on it.

"Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, is in a galaxy far, far away?" Harry joked.

"You'd be surprised," John said with one of his trademark grins. "Or maybe not."

Harry reached into the pocket of the Muggle jacket he'd transfigured before apparating them to Heathrow and withdrew a paper that hadn't been there a moment ago. "Muggle mail doesn't deliver where I live, but you can reach me care of The Leaky Cauldron. The owner's a friend of mine."

Their hands touched as John took the paper from him.

Reading the same things he was feeling in John's eyes, Harry took a deep breath and said in a soft voice, "Some very powerful wizards can work deflection spells that make them all but invisible." He radiated his power around them, including even the airport security cameras in the circle he cast. "Can you feel that?"

John gave a slow nod.

"We just became invisible to everyone around us." Harry said. "Not even the most powerful wizard can change the world we live in, but we can sometimes escape its eye for a few minutes. We can go for that goodbye kiss if you want."

Harry recognized the level of trust he was asking for here. John might be able to sense the power vibrating around them, but his Muggle-reared friend had no way of knowing what type of spell he'd actually cast.

"You still want to kiss me now that you don't have amnesia anymore?" John asked.

"Friends kiss," Harry said, reaching out to lay his hand on John's arm.

John leaned in and pressed his mouth to Harry's.

When they withdrew a long, breathless time later, John said, "Not like that, they don't."

"Maybe not," Harry agreed. "We'll work on it next time."

"Will there be a next time?" John questioned, his uncertainty palpable.

"Maybe not for the after hours activities, but I'd really like to work on the friendship part."

"Me, too." John's hazel gaze strayed to a nearby departure board which showed the time at the bottom. "I've really got to get through security now. Thanks for everything, Harry."

"Take care of yourself, John."

"I'll write to you and let you know I got home safe. It might be a few weeks. Cheyenne isn't where I'm posted. It's where the mail gets routed through. Um, if you write back, you probably shouldn't mention the magic. I'm in a top secret facility and all the mail is screened."

"So no mention of the after hours activities, either, then?" Harry checked.

"God, what with the magic, I didn't even think of that. But, yeah, we probably shouldn't mention that, either. I've really got to go now."

"Yeah," Harry said, wishing John didn't, for all that his presence would complicate things immensely.

"That invisibility screen still up?" John checked.

At Harry's nod, John gave him another kiss. This one was fast and almost platonic.

"That more like friends?" John asked when they parted.

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"I hope things work out for you," John offered.

"Me, too. Safe trip."

With one last touch to his cheek, John seemed to tear himself away.

Harry watched the glaring Muggle lights glint off John's leather jacket and his dark, messy hair until his lover was lost in the crowd.

His invisibility shield, as John had called the deflection spell, still up around him, Harry apparated to Hogwarts' gates.

*~*~*

Reality hit him hard when he was back in the castle. John had been a welcome distraction this morning, but now that his new friend had left, Harry had no choice but to deal with his feelings.

Needing some time alone, he retreated to his room, entering through the door on the corridor instead of through Ron and Hermione's place as was his habit. Although he could hear them speaking softly in the sitting room beyond the open door that connected their quarters, they didn't hear him enter and he was able to make it to his bedroom undetected.

The February afternoon outside his windows was as grey and depressing as Harry's life felt at the moment. He didn't even bother lighting the wall sconces or the hearth. He just headed for his bed and stretched out on it. Lying flat on his back, he stared up at the blue velvet canopy overhead, trying to figure out how he felt.

The hours that had intervened since he'd gotten his memories back hadn't really dimmed his fury any. There was still a storm raging through him, a storm that screamed to be vented magically.

It scared him how much he wanted to just blast Severus with all this anger, to let Severus feel how much he'd hurt him. He hadn't felt anything like this since that time he'd eavesdropped on Minister Fudge, Professor McGonagall, and Rosmerta's private conversation about Sirius back in third year. He might have been angrier at Burke in January, but that hate hadn't involved this level of confusion. He simply didn't know what to do with the firestorm raging inside him.

He hadn't lied to John this morning when he'd said he still loved Severus, but, he didn't know if that love was going to be enough. The man he'd thought he loved would never have violated the integrity of his mind the way Severus had the other night. Perhaps if Severus had demonstrated any sign of remorse, he might have been less incensed about what had happened. He couldn't say. All he knew was that Severus' complete lack of regret made him twice as furious with the man.

He wasn't used to having this kind of anger towards someone he loved. Ron, Hermione, and he might have the occasional squabble from time to time, but never had either of his closest friends done the kind of thing Severus had done to him. Hell, his enemies hadn't done things like this to him. This type of betrayal was outside his ken. He still couldn't believe Severus had done it, had just erased their love the way he had.

How did you forgive someone for something like that?

The pain inside him told him that forgiveness mightn't be possible. Some things never went away, no matter how much a person might want to forget about them. What Severus had done might really have finished them more effectively than the amnesia he'd given him. At least when not knowing what they'd had, he'd been able to be around the man, but now . . . he didn't know if he could interact with Severus, not without this fury inside him wanting to target the man. He was just so damn hurt and angry.

Turning over, he buried his face in his pillow and gave in to his pain.

*~*~*

"Harry? Are you in there?" Hermione's worried voice penetrated the pitch black room hours later.

"Yeah," Harry tried to sound normal, but even he could hear how rough his voice sounded.

She was on the bedside in an instant, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

He opened his mouth to answer and then snapped it immediately shut on the hysterical laughter that bubbled up inside him at the enormity of what he'd have to explain. When he thought he'd gotten a handle on the mania, he muttered, "Nothing."

"Harry, something's wrong. You've been crying," Hermione protested, reaching out to touch his sticky cheek.

Her palm felt very cool against his overheated skin. Taking a deep, shuddery breath, Harry said, "I can't talk about it. Not yet."

He could feel her watching him in the dark. He appreciated that she didn't light the wall sconces or fire to see him better.

She just brushed his sweaty, tear-soaked hair back from his face and said, "Okay. You don't have to talk about it." Her other hand settled on his back, exerting the softest of pressure.

He fell into her arms as if from a great height. He definitely felt as disconcerted as he had after the rare quidditch accident as he buried his face in the hair on her shoulder and just soaked in the familiar comfort of her presence as she stroked his back.

He pulled back a long time later and gave her a shaky smile. "Thanks, Hermione."

"There's nothing to thank me for, silly," she said.

Her hand reached for his face again. He held still as the cool washcloth she'd manifested with a murmured spell moved over his cheeks, removing all traces of his breakdown.

"Do you feel up to dinner?"

He wasn't sure he felt up to breathing, but since that wasn't likely to change any time in the near future and he had responsibilities to meet, he gave a slow nod.

"Wonderful. Come on, then. Let's get up. Here are your teacher's robes." Standing beside the bed, she held out the black robes he'd left on the nearby chair before they'd gone to the Three Broomsticks on Friday night, back when he'd been living in the cheerful oblivion of selective amnesia.

He slipped into them and stood still while she buttoned them for him.

"I'm not a child, you know," he said at last.

"I know. But sometimes we all need a little TLC, right? You can button my robes for me the next time I'm in a funk."

Rallying, Harry said, "Ron might have a word or two to say about that."

She chuckled and agreed, "Yes, he might at that."

The lights in the Weasleys' sitting room seemed unnaturally bright. They nearly blinded him as he stepped into the room.

Ron was sitting on the couch, reading the quidditch section of the Sunday Prophet. He looked up and gave a less than welcoming, "Oh, you're back, are you?"

Harry couldn't really blame him. As far as Ron knew, he'd turned his back on Severus for a weekend fling.

Hermione's chastising, "Ronald!" was ringing through the air when Ron's voice and expression changed and he asked in a worried tone, "What's wrong?"

Harry opened his mouth, not knowing how to explain.

Hermione was still acting as his protector, for she quickly explained, "Harry's not up to talking about it right now. We're just all going to go down and have dinner now. All right?"

There was a pleading note in her voice that touched Harry deeply.

"Ah, sure," Ron answered, visibly perplexed. He looked from Hermione to Harry, then back to Hermione as if trying to figure out what was happening from their expressions. After a moment, he said, "Sorry about the attitude, mate."

"It's okay," Harry said, wishing that his voice didn't sound so thick. He knew he sounded like he'd spent the last few hours crying. Pity, magic only went so far. He could cast a glamour that would hide all of London at this point, but there wasn't anything he could do to hide what he was feeling, not from these two.

"Well, let's go, then," Hermione said with forced cheer. Her hand was gripping his elbow as if she were prepared to keep him from apparating away.

As they left the Weasleys' quarters and started down the shifting stairs for the Great Hall, Ron's hand settled softly on Harry's shoulder.

Cocooned in their caring, Harry followed them down to the hall. It was only as they approached the teachers' table and Harry saw that familiar, black-clad figure sitting next to Hagrid in what Severus sometimes playfully referred to as the Gryffindor Ghetto that his steps faltered.

All that hurt and fury raged through him like a tornado as he met Severus' cautious black eyes.

The three seats they normally sat in were there on the other side of Severus. Even though Harry knew he could take the one furthest from him, it was just too close right now.

Already, the most sensitive among the teachers were beginning to look up as Harry's magic swirled through the room, making the wall sconces and candles floating midair flicker ominously.

Knowing that he'd explode if he had to sit close enough to hear or touch Severus, Harry turned to the other end of the table, to the isolated corner where Severus hadn't sat in months.

Hermione's steps didn't even falter. She turned with him as if that had been their destination all along, but Ron gave a totally confused, "What's happened? Why aren't we sitting with Severus?"

They were close enough that Harry knew Severus had overheard Ron's comment. He could feel those dark eyes on him as he turned to Ron and suggested, "Ask Severus," before taking the seat at the farthest end of the table, Hermione at his side.

Visibly confused, Ron settled into the seat on her other side.

There was so much tension in the air and so many unasked questions that Harry could barely breathe.

"Here, Harry, have some pumpkin juice," Hermione said, handing him a tall glass of their childhood drink. She looked as worried as Ron.

With good reason, Harry realized, only then noticing that his magic was still swirling through the room, wreaking havoc with the lighting and unnerving everyone powerful enough to sense the thaumaturgical disturbance. A lot of gazes were beginning to turn his way.

Harry sucked in a deep breath, and then another. After a moment, the candles and sconces stopped flickering and began their usual steady burn. He took a couple of sips of the sweet juice Hermione had handed him, and the menacing magic rocking through the Hall vanished like a will-o-the-wisp.

"There, that's better now," Hermione approved. Harry could hear the relief in her voice and knew how badly he'd shaken her as she suggested with that same forced cheer, "Have some mashed potatoes, Harry."

Doing his utmost to defuse, Harry let her fill his plate.

He could feel Hermione, Ron's, and another dark, equally familiar gaze watching him as he forced himself to tuck into his meal.

As he chewed the food he wasn't really interested in, Harry wondered if he'd ever get to the point where he wouldn't feel Severus' gaze on his skin the way he would another wizard's hand. Recognizing that he was going to have to work on getting to that place, he swallowed. The food sat like a lump in his stomach as he took another forkful.

His world had crumbled around him enough times in the past for him to know the routine. He just didn't know if he'd be able to fake normality this time.

*~*~*

"All right. You're going to tell me what's going on, and if the word 'nothing' passes your lips, you won't have to worry about waiting for Harry to lose control and blast you to perdition," Hermione Weasley said as she entered the empty Potions classroom Monday morning during their shared free period. "What did you do to him?"

Severus looked up from the papers he was grading. He wasn't surprised to see her. He'd been expecting such a call since dinner last night.

Breakfast this morning had been marginally better. At least Harry's power hadn't been swirling through the hall, waiting to strike like a ravenous panther. Still, Harry had looked like he hadn't slept in days. For that matter, so did the worried woman in front of him.

Trying to keep a handle on the situation, Severus gave an urbane, "Good morning to you as well."

"Don't!" Hermione warned. "I've been up with him all night. He won't tell me what's wrong, but I know it's got something to do with you. Have you any idea how close he was to losing control in the Great Hall last night?"

Once he would have toyed with her or done everything he could to avoid a scene. But since his own guilt had been eating at him like acid since Harry's visit in the early hours yesterday morning, he met her gaze and softly said, "He has more than sufficient cause."

His honesty seemed to deflate her anger. Taking a deep breath, Hermione approached his desk and asked in a pleading tone, "Severus, what did you do?"

"You know what I did. Or you suspect it. That's why you came to me Saturday morning," Severus said.

"I came to you on Saturday because Harry didn't seem to remember that he was involved with you . . . . " Hermione said.

"He didn't remember because I blocked off all memory of our involvement when he asked me to remove the things Burke had told him about my past from his mind," Severus said. He didn't mean to hold his breath afterwards, but he knew he was in as much danger of being cursed by this woman as he was with Harry. Merlin alone knew what her husband, the Auror, would do once he learned of his transgression, providing, of course, that he survived long enough to face Ronald Weasley.

"Oh my God. No wonder poor Harry is . . . ."

"Ready to kill, and justly so," Severus said.

"How could you do that to him? He loves you!"

"It was quite easy, actually," Severus said, knowingly baiting the she-bear before him which was intent on protecting its cub. "He left himself totally open."

"And you took advantage of that trust," Hermione said, her voice and gaze as cold as his bed was now that Harry had left it for good.

He knew he should apologize. He knew he was in the wrong here. If he threw himself upon her mercy and explained the insane state of mind that had driven him to do what he'd done to Harry, he knew she would, if not forgive him, at least counsel him on how to get through the disaster he'd made of things. But his pride wouldn't let him do it. Pride was, after all, the only thing he had left. His sanity was obviously long gone.

He'd done what he'd done, and there would be no undoing it. He'd follow this through, no matter where it ended.

"I am Slytherin, after all," Severus said in what he knew to be his most arrogant tone of voice.

Her eyes sparked with the same kind of incandescent rage Severus had seen several times before being blasted by instantaneous magic. She wasn't nearly as powerful as Harry, but she was a force to be reckoned with all the same. He could feel her power swirling through the room the way Harry's had in the Great Hall last night. For a minute, he saw his death in her eyes, and he welcomed it.

Then, that fury was firmly clamped down. She took a deep breath, and contempt replaced the anger hardening her features. "No. That would be too easy, wouldn't it? You're going to have to live with this, Severus."

He wasn't able to hold her gaze. He heard her rise to her feet. He jerked in his seat as a small white rectangle of parchment popped into being on the desk in front of him. Startled, he recognized it as the calling card of that Squib analyst she was friendly with.

"Do us all a favour and get yourself some help before you kill someone," and with those clipped words, she stormed out of the Potions lab.

Startled, Severus realized that he was shaking as badly as he had been after Harry had left his chambers for the final time Sunday morning. He hadn't thought that losing her would hurt this much.

Not knowing if he had the strength to pull himself together before his next class arrived, he stared down at the white card on his desk out of burning eyes.

*~*~*

Water dripped somewhere in the darkness, echoing through the stone chamber. Every breath brought with it the unbearable reek of an open sewer. The place was cold as a grave.

Harry shivered and thought some wall sconces into existence. Their warm, flickering light filled the dungeon. Normally, there would be some Death Eaters entering the scene about now, but tonight there were no Death Eaters. There was only the rack on the far side of the chamber, and the bloody horror that lay shackled to it.

The dripping sound was not water. It was blood, Severus' blood. Only, the skinless carcass on the torture table bore no resemblance to the man Harry remembered. The ghastly remains looked worse than Ron had after Burke had taken out his team. Unlike Ron, there was no sign of life in the near-skeletal remains. The bared ribcage was unmoving.

He'd come too late.

"Nooooo!"

His shout woke him.

Wild-eyed, Harry stared around the room. Sweat and tears were pouring down his face and he was shaking all over.

He took a deep breath as he recognized the blue velvet curtains draping the bed. His bed. His room.

It was just a dream. Severus was safe down in the dungeons below.

Harry ran a hand through his drenched hair. It wasn't fair that he could be so very angry at Severus, and still be tormented by those kinds of dreams.

Taking a deep breath, he threw off the bedclothes and climbed out of the big four poster bed. There would be no more sleep tonight. Not that he'd gotten more than an hour or two.

He thought his clothes on and grabbed his cloak. It was the green, sable lined one Severus had given him for Christmas. The mere sight of it made him ache, so he transfigured it into plain black wool and made tracks for the door.

"Harry?" a sleepy voice called from the open door to the Weasleys' quarters.

He turned to see Hermione standing there in the dark doorway in her long white nightgown.

"Hermione, what are you doing up at this hour?" he asked.

"Are you all right?"

She'd been up with him until he'd finally turned in. He knew she had to be utterly exhausted.

"Did you put a monitoring charm on me?" he asked. It was the only thing he could think of to explain why she'd be up at this ungodly hour. He'd had a silencing spell on his room for years, so he knew his shout couldn't have wakened her.

"Um . . . ."

"I'm not a baby," he said.

"I know. I'm just worried about you," she answered.

"I'm okay, really," he assured.

"It's two a.m. and you went to bed less than an hour ago. You're not okay. Come sit down by the fire. We'll -"

"You're going back to bed," Harry said, moving over to where she stood in the doorway. She was shivering in the castle cold and looked ready to drop from exhaustion. He took his cloak off and put it around her shoulders. "I really appreciate your looking after me the way you have this last month, but you need to rest now. You know if you don't go back to bed, Ron will be up in ten minutes. He's still recovering. You know he needs to sleep."

"You need to sleep," she protested. "Please, go back to bed?"

"I can't. I'll go crazy in there. Walking is the only thing that helps when I get like this."

"I'll go with you, then."

"You'll do no such thing. Back to bed. Go on, luv," he insisted, giving her cheek a fast peck, "Go to bed. I'll be all right."

"Harry . . . ."

"I know you want to help me, but there's nothing to be done right now. It's just going to take time. Please – don't make me feel guilty on top of everything else?"

"All right," she conceded at last. "Just . . . be careful. And wake me if you want to talk when you get back."

"I will," he said, even though he knew he'd do no such thing.

She and Ron had been amazing this last month. They'd practically moved into his room with him. Any time he wasn't in front of a class teaching, one or both of his best friends were there with him, doing everything in their power to distract him and lift his spirits.

That the last was a sheer impossibility was becoming increasingly obvious. It had been over a month since he'd had that big blow up with Severus, but it still felt like the whole thing had happened yesterday. He couldn't remember the last time that anything had hurt him this badly. Maybe the final battle with Voldemort, when they'd lost Professor Dumbledore, Remus, and the Weasley twins in one fell swoop, but he honestly thought this felt even worse than that.

Once Hermione had turned back into her quarters, he headed out into the dark halls. The corridors were even colder than his rooms, so he transfigured another cloak.

The figures in the paintings lining the halls were all asleep, some snoring noisily. He stepped lightly past them, not waking even the lightest portrait sleeper.

He never had any clear destination on nights like this. He just went wherever his feet led him. As he passed a wall of bevelled windows near the Ancient Runes classroom, the full March moon shone in on him like a spotlight. In the distance, he could see the trees of the Forbidden Forest shifting madly in the winds.

It looked cold as hell out there, but maybe that was what he needed to finally get to sleep. Quickening his steps, he turned the corner and ploughed right into a wall of living shadows. He had no idea what he'd hit, but he was moving so fast that he bounced off it like he'd run into a cliff and would have measured his length if strong hands hadn't come out of the darkness to steady him.

Harry stepped back into the moonlit corridor behind him, a polite, "So sorry," on his lips.

The words died as he stared up into Severus Snape's sharp-featured face.

He supposed it was inevitable that this would happen. Severus and he had been running into each other for years as they roamed Hogwarts' dark halls and grounds when everyone else was asleep. Still, the sudden sight of Severus there before him was shocking.

Harry couldn't help but note how rough Severus looked. More than exhausted, the man seemed haunted. There were dark circles under his eyes that made his own purple bags look like rank amateurs.

Severus seemed as thrown as he was by their collision, for he uttered a soft, "Forgive me," and turned as if to flee into the shadows behind him.

"Wait!" Harry impulsively called out.

Severus froze and turned back to face him. The caution in his expression seemed to indicate that he expected to be blasted to smithereens.

Harry realized that this was the first time they'd been alone together since their break up. So far, the only times they'd been in the same room were the obligatory staff meetings at which Hermione and he had sat as far away from Severus as possible. They hadn't spoken a single word in a month.

"Yes?" Severus asked in a guarded tone.

His heart in complete tumult, Harry stared up at this man he'd loved so deeply, this man who had betrayed him. The anger was still there, but it wasn't the magical time bomb it had been a month ago.

After that horrible nightmare, it was actually good to see Severus.

Not knowing what to say, Harry asked an inane, "How are you?"

His question visibly threw Severus, who still seemed braced for an attack. After a moment of stunned silence, Severus answered with a characteristically caustic, "It's two a.m. and I'm roaming the corridors like a house ghost. What does that tell you?"

"Nightmare?" Harry asked.

"I hardly see what concern of yours that would be."

The tone was enough to make Harry want to sock him. Severus never gave an inch. But that same stubbornness had kept the man alive in January, and right now it was just so good to have the horrors of his own nightmare dispelled that Harry couldn't take issue with the bastard. So, instead of reacting to the near-sneer, he said, "I had one. I got to Burke's keep too late and there was nothing left of you to rescue."

"Sounds more like wishful thinking, if you ask me," Severus responded in that same contentious tone. But his expression had changed and he was watching Harry with a different type of caution now.

"Charming as ever, I see," Harry said, shaking his head at the futility of it all. This was the man he'd thought he'd loved?

"It's high time you saw me for what I am," Severus said, his gaze was as dark and bottomless as the lake outside the nearby windows.

Harry caught those eyes and held them. There were a dozen scathing responses he could make to that comment. Severus appeared braced for them all. But he knew the truth was always the most effective weapon.

"I was the only person who ever saw you for what you were. That's what scares you so much."

The minute Harry said the words, he wished he could take them back. They seemed to strike Severus like a physical blow or a magical attack.

Severus rallied enough to reply with a stiff, "Don't flatter yourself, Potter," before turning on his heel to disappear down the dark corridor with a billow of his black robes.

Well, that went well, Harry thought, annoyed at his own lack of control. But he hadn't slept in a month, and that was Severus' fault. He didn't know what he wanted from Severus now. All he knew was that he didn't want things the way they were.

Disgusted with them both, he fled into the freezing night.

*~*~*

Severus looked up from the homework he was grading as the door to the Potions lab opened. At first, he thought it might be Hermione Weasley, for they both shared a free third period Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, but she hadn't stopped in to see him for more than a month now. The little white card she'd left behind on her last visit was tucked into the corner of his desk blotter, its point staring almost accusatively up at him.

Severus tensed when he recognized his unexpected visitor. Harry.

Even from a distance that strong face was handsome. It was only as Harry drew closer that his red-rimmed eyes became obvious.

Severus kept waiting for Harry to get over what had happened between them and move on. The man had always been a survivor. This malingering made no sense, but Harry looked as if he hadn't slept since the night they'd argued last month.

Severus didn't even know how to greet him. The usual 'hello' or 'good morning' seemed completely inappropriate, especially after their encounter in the corridor this morning. He knew he was lucky they hadn't come to wands last night. He didn't know why he felt compelled to egg Harry on the way he had, for Harry was completely innocent in all of this. All that Harry had done wrong was to be foolish enough to care for him.

Part of him couldn't help but wonder if Harry had come here to finish it, to finish him.

When Harry stopped beside his desk, Severus looked up at that worn face, gave a nod of acknowledgement and a stiff, "Potter." Unable to stop himself, he asked, "Aren't you supposed to be teaching?"

"They finished their quiz early, so I gave them an early dismissal. I wanted to speak to you," Harry said.

"About?" Severus asked. The sight of Harry striding into his Potions classroom had turned his entire body to stone with tension. He didn't think his muscles could get any tighter, but they clenched all the more at that 'wanted to speak to you' line. If this were anyone else, he would have had his hand in his pocket on his wand. But he knew how useless any effort would be. There wasn't a wizard alive today who could stand against this man. Unless they took Harry from behind, and, even then, he would back Harry to come out the victor.

"I'm sorry about what I said to you last night," Harry shocked him by saying. "It was cruel and thoughtless."

Severus drew in a shaky breath. He felt like Harry had just blasted the ground out from beneath him. Not knowing how to respond, he stared up into those exhausted green eyes and finally said, "But hardly unprovoked."

"That doesn't matter," Harry said.

"Doesn't it? Potter, I did something to you for which any court would consider murder justifiable. You have every right to hate me."

"I don't hate you," Harry said. After a long silence, he added, "It would be easier all around if I did, but I don't. I'm still mad as hell at you for what you did to me, but I don't hate you."

Even without windows, the torch-lit room was too bright. There were no shadows to retreat into, and Severus really felt he needed those shadows right now.

"What are you saying?" Severus asked in a voice so soft and nervous that he barely recognized it as his own. Harry didn't hate him?

"Just that I'm sorry I lost my temper last night. It's no excuse, but I haven't been sleeping lately. I know you haven't either. I . . . don't like the way we are right now, Severus. I was hoping that we might agree to try to be less hostile. I'm willing to try if you are. I think it would make everyone's lives a lot easier."

Feeling ridiculously vulnerable, Severus rose to his feet. It was a puerile tactic, but towering over Harry usually made him feel he had the upper hand in their confrontations. Only, he still felt about two feet tall as he looked down into those ridiculously hopeful eyes.

This man had every right to curse him. If Harry had gone to Minerva and told her what he'd done, he could have had him sacked. If he'd gone to the authorities, Severus knew he'd be in Azkaban right now.

But Harry had done none of those things. Instead of seeking vengeance, he was standing here practically pleading with him to act like an adult.

Severus only wished it were that easy. He pushed his filthy hair back from his face and met Harry's gaze. He still had no idea what to say. After some serious deliberation, he offered the truth. "Surely, you can't think that my behaviour of late indicates that I have any control over my actions? I'm barely making it through the days."

"I, um, never heard you admit anything like that before," Harry said.

"There's little point in denying it," Severus said. He didn't know why Harry was here. The soft tone and concerned expression were so different from the furious, remote man Harry had been for the last month that he hardly knew how to deal with him. He knew that what he'd done to Harry was never going to go away, that a month or a decade wouldn't be long enough to get past that kind of betrayal. But here Harry was, talking to him. It made no sense.

After a quiet moment, Harry softly said, "And you're not sleeping."

Remarkably enough, Severus could hear nothing but concern in Harry's gentle voice. Gods, how he missed his compassion.

Severus gave a wordless shake of his head.

"Your Dreamless Sleep potion?" Harry asked.

There was a part of him that wanted to rail at Harry for making such a bloody obvious suggestion, but he managed to contain the vitriol. Making a concentrated effort, he explained, "I've been on it since January. It's dangerous to take it daily for longer than two months. Although, at this point, I can't conceive that addiction would make the situation any worse."

To his unending shock, Harry reached out to grip his arm.

That instinctive gesture of support nearly finished him. That Harry could comfort him at a time when he should be casting Unforgivables at him only accentuated how unworthy he was of this honourable man's regard.

"You're the strongest person I know, Severus," Harry repeated the encouraging words he'd given him a dozen times a day when he was in infirmary recovering. "You'll get through this."

"How?" Severus rasped. He didn't want to appear any weaker than he already felt, but he couldn't keep the word in.

"Any way you can," Harry answered.

He wanted so badly to just fling himself at that warm body and let this incredible man support him until the shaking stopped, but he knew he'd forfeited that right when he'd betrayed Harry's trust. So, instead of crumbling into Harry's arms, he took a firm step back from him. Taking a deep breath, he held himself together, met Harry's gaze, and nodded.

"Till then, you do whatever you have to," Harry said. "If you can't manage civil, then don't. You just make sure you make it through those days. Don't worry about anything else but that. All right?"

Nearly afraid of this amazing man, Severus gave another nod and an unsteady, "All right."

Harry's eyes were pulling him in like a magnet. Severus had always felt that he could drown in them, but right now, they had a siren's unshakable allure.

Knowing that giving in to that call would ruin whatever advances they'd made, Severus took a shaky breath and held onto his controls.

The visible start Harry gave seemed to tell him that he had finally twigged onto what was happening. Once again, his former lover surprised him by failing to react with justified anger.

Seeming nervous, Harry said, "Good. I'll, er, see you at dinner, then."

Nothing had changed, Severus told himself as he finally gave into his rubbery legs and sank down on his chair once the door had firmly closed behind Harry. But even though nothing had changed, for some reason, he felt a little better. Everything didn't seem so entirely bleak.

Harry still obviously cared about him to some small extent. That was more than he'd ever had, really. It was more than he could expect after what he'd done and certainly more than he deserved. And, maybe, just maybe, it might be enough.

Realizing that he was going to have to teach class in a few short minutes, he took several deep breaths and attempted to return his attention to the homework on his desk. It was hard, though. All he seemed able to concentrate on was the lingering warmth Harry's hand had left on his arm.

*~*~*

Okay, that was . . . weird, Harry thought as he took a deep breath and leaned against the wall outside the Potions classroom. For a moment there, he'd thought he was going to end up with Severus in his arms.

While he really wished all their problems would just go away, he wasn't child enough to believe that bringing sex into the mix would fix anything. He was barely past being furious at Severus. While Severus . . . Severus was hanging on by a very frayed thread. That much was clear.

It was all so bloody complicated. Even his feelings for Severus weren't clear-cut anymore. He was as angry with him as he was concerned for him. But, no matter how angry he was, he couldn't ignore that level of pain. He'd never seen Severus so dejected.

Surely, you can't think that my behaviour of late indicates that I have any control over my actions?

Those desperate words were ringing through his mind. For Severus to admit something like that, especially with the way things were between them right now, it had to be bad.

Standing there in the empty, drafty hall outside the Potions classroom, Harry realized that Severus really wasn't in control. The Severus Snape he'd known and loved would never have violated another person's mind the way he'd violated his last month. That act was just so out of character that it had made him question his very feelings for Severus. Only, the man who had done that to him wasn't his Severus. His Severus had died on that rack in Burke's dungeon.

Not died, Harry corrected himself. His Severus had been damaged, perhaps beyond all recognition, but he was still there somewhere, buried deep beneath all that pain. Clearly, there was too much of it for Severus to find his way out on his own. The man was drowning . . . and utterly alone.

It wasn't like Severus had any friends to help him at the moment. Even Hermione wasn't speaking to him right now.

Harry knew he shouldn't care. His broken heart kept insisting that he should let the bastard rot. Severus Snape was not his concern or his problem anymore. The man had attempted to erase their relationship. What could be a clearer statement of Severus' lack of regard than that? And how could he have any kind of feelings left for someone who would do that to him?

Only, in spite of everything, he still cared. He wished he could just walk away and turn his feelings for Severus off for good, but it wasn't that simple.

It was easy to blame Severus, to hate and rage and make himself out to be the injured party. It helped justify his anger that it was true that what Severus had done was dreadfully wrong, but it wasn't unexpected. He'd known Severus wasn't ready to be involved in a sexual relationship that night on the quidditch pitch, and he'd still pushed, because it was what he'd wanted.

Now, Severus was crumbling before his eyes, and nobody cared enough to intervene.

Well, he could do something about that. He mightn't be able to turn back time or take this terrible burden off Severus, but he could at least make sure the man had some human kindness in his life.

Taking a deep breath, he went to find Hermione.

*~*~*

"You want us to what?" Ron nearly bellowed after Harry made his suggestion that evening when he caught both his friends in their quarters before dinner. Ron was removing his red Auror's robes, about to don the brown ones he usually wore around the castle, while Hermione sat in a chair by the hearth, her lap full of test papers.

"Harry," Hermione said in a less contentious tone, "he attacked your mind."

Harry hadn't been able to get her alone all day. He'd been hoping to have her firmly in his corner before he approached Ron with the subject. Taking a deep breath, he continued with his argument, "I know what he did, and it was terribly wrong. But -"

"There's no 'buts' about this," Ron said. "If you hadn't made me promise to leave this to you, he'd be up on charges."

"He's not himself, Ron," Harry argued. "He's not responsible for -"

"All the more reason why you should steer clear of him. He's a menace right now," Ron's face was lost in the folds of the brown robe he was pulling over his head, but his anger emerged loud and clear.

"Only to himself," Harry protested.

"Excuse me, but weren't you the one who was running around here with missing memories last month?" Ron demanded. "Don't even try to tell me he's harmless."

"I need you to back me on this," Harry played his last card. He didn't know what he'd do if they wouldn't help him. He was going to need someone to run interference for his own anger.

"Give me one good reason why," Ron demanded.

"He's falling apart before my eyes, Ron," Harry said. "I can't just pretend it isn't happening, no matter how angry I am. We told him we were his family. Families don't let their members self-destruct."

"Families don't erase each other's memories," Ron countered. "Harry, he fucked with your mind. He could have made you do anything. Who would have been able to stop you if he'd really gone mental and programmed you to do something dangerous?"

Harry sighed. Ron wasn't saying anything he hadn't considered himself in the last month. He knew how utterly dangerous and immoral what Severus had done to him was. It was unforgivable, fully as much as the curses with the same name. Only, for Severus' sake, he was going to have to find a way to work around it, to get beyond his own anger and forgive. "All he wanted was some peace. Yes, he could have done anything, but all he did was remove the source of the pressure I was putting on him. I told him to remove anything that disturbed him. He took my offer literally. I'm not excusing what he did, but I understand it. I was pushing him really hard that night, and he snapped."

"What's to say he won't snap again?" Ron asked. "He looks like a walking corpse. He should be in hospital, not teaching school."

"And what good would St. Mungo's do him?" Harry argued. "If they can't cure it with a spell or a potion, they just lock the poor buggers away. Look at Neville's parents. They've been there for decades, and literally nothing's been done to help them."

"What is it you think we can do?" Ron questioned. "He's totally mental right now."

"I think we can offer the man some human kindness. Severus didn't ask for any of this to happen. You know what was done to him. Yes, he's a bit mental right now, but he's holding it together – just. I want to help him hang on to what little sanity he's got left."

"And you think our sitting next to him at the teachers' table is going to cure what ails him?" Ron asked.

"I think if we were speaking to him again, it would remove a lot of the pressure he's under. Meals have been unbearable this last month," Harry said. "Can I count on your help in this?"

Ron looked like he was asking him to eat manure.

Harry turned his gaze to Hermione, who'd been unusually silent throughout their discussion. "Hermione?"

Both he and Ron were looking at her, as if she should decide the issue. And, perhaps she should, Harry realized. She was the most practical and mature of them all.

After a long moment of holding his gaze, she turned to Ron. "Harry is the offended party here. I think we should do what he asks."

"All right, then," Ron grudgingly agreed. Turning to Harry, he said. "It's on your head, then."

"Thanks, both of you," Harry said, wilting with relief. Both Hermione and Ron's misgivings were written clearly on their faces. But they were backing him, and that was all that mattered.

"Yeah, yeah," Ron dismissed his show of gratitude with his usual embarrassment. "Let's go beard the lion. It's roast pork night and I'm starved."

On that note of normality, they headed for the door.

As they walked into the Great Hall five minutes later and Harry took in Severus' dark figure sitting at the far, empty end of the teachers' table, he realized that the harder task might still be ahead of him. Approaching the table, he gave Neville and Hagrid a wave where they were sitting at the end of the table where Severus used to isolate himself and continued down the seemingly endless table towards where Severus was currently sitting.

It was his imagination, of course, but Harry felt as if every eye in the room were on him as he made that journey. All but one, that was. Severus' gaze was fixed on his meal. As usual, Severus seemed to be pushing his food around the plate more than eating it. The Potions master was trying so hard to tune out the rest of the school that he didn't even seem aware of their approach.

That wasn't good. Severus didn't deal well with surprises at the best of times. When this went bad, as Harry knew it would, the scene was going to be spectacular.

Harry stopped beside Severus. Severus didn't even look up. Hermione and Ron were hanging several feet back, well out of cursing range.

When Severus failed to react to his presence, Harry nervously cleared his throat and asked, "Is this seat taken?"

Severus' chin snapped up as he turned to meet his gaze. Those red-rimmed, exhausted eyes moved past Harry to where Hermione and Ron were standing behind him.

Harry held his breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion. He knew this man so well; he could almost hear the suspicious thought processes taking place.

It was no longer his imagination. Everyone at the teachers' table was watching. Before Severus could ignite, Harry dropped his voice and pleaded, "Please, let's give it a try, all right?"

Harry still expected Armageddon. He knew Severus and fully anticipated having to argue his way past his considerable guards. Severus' controls were clearly stretched too thin to hide anything he was feeling. Harry could see the tumultuous emotions raging behind those sore-looking eyes.

To his complete astonishment, Severus gave a slow nod and then returned his attention to his plate.

Harry exchanged a confused look with Hermione and Ron before slipping into the empty seat beside Severus. Hermione took the seat next to his, Ron on her other side.

When no scene ensued, most of the other teachers returned their attention to their own business.

As Harry and his friends settled into the chairs they'd abandoned last month, an almost anti-climatic silence fell over them. Then Ron began filling his plate with food and the awkwardness passed.

Harry and Hermione followed Ron's example and in a few moments everyone other than Severus was busy enjoying their meal.

Harry did his best to ignore the fact that Severus wasn't eating. He wasn't about to push his luck and comment on that fact. He knew they were fortunate to have managed this much contact without an altercation.

After several minutes of concentrated eating appeased their immediate hunger, that awkward silence settled over them again. Normally, this was when everyone would update each other about the events of their day, but no one seemed inclined to talk now that they'd moved seats.

Recognizing that as it was his idea to recommence interaction with Severus, that it was also his responsibility to initiate conversation, Harry broke the tense quiet with, "Ron, how was your day?" Turning to include Severus, he softly explained, "Ron returned to work on Monday."

Severus' eyes clearly showed his surprise at the effort he made. Harry wasn't sure what type of reaction to expect. A 'Don't trouble yourself, Potter,' or a 'What has this to do with me anymore?' seemed the most likely responses, but after a pause, Severus gave an acknowledging nod and turned his gaze towards Ron.

"It was okay," Ron answered. "I've been putting the new team through training manoeuvres. It's going to be a while before they're in decent shape. Most of them are fresh out of school."

Whether she really needed to know or was simply asking to bring Severus up to date, Hermione questioned, "What are their names again?"

As Ron launched into a description of his new team members, Harry relaxed in his chair and finally started to breathe normally.

The remainder of the meal continued along that line. Severus didn't utter a single word the entire time, but he stayed at the table and seemed to be listening. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was a damn sight better than Harry had expected it to be.

Hermione shocked him when they were finishing up their pudding by turning to Severus to say, "Severus, Harry and I are going to grade papers in our place after dinner. You're more than welcome to join us."

She'd obviously shocked Severus, too. It seemed to take him a moment to find his voice to answer.

"Thank you," Severus seemed to take great care choosing his words. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not fit company tonight."

"Well, if you change your mind, you know where we are. Harry, we'll see you upstairs," Hermione said as she and Ron rose from the table.

Ron gave a general, "See you," that seemed to encompass Severus as well before following Hermione out.

Left alone with Severus, Harry picked at the remains of his chocolate cake, not sure what to do now. Most of the other teachers were leaving and the dirty plates were popping out of view one by one.

Severus' plate was still full of food. By Harry's count, he'd taken three bites all night.

The silence stretched uncomfortably between them, the tension seeming to accentuate all that they'd lost in the last three months.

Finally, Severus looked up from his study of his plate and said, "You can't fix what's broken this time, Potter."

Strangely enough, Severus' tone wasn't sarcastic or contentious. If anything, he sounded lost.

"Let's just give it a chance, all right?" Harry pleaded.

"Give what a chance?" Severus demanded.

"Healing," Harry answered, his voice soft and low. "Nothing's going to change if we don't try."

The emotions that flashed through Severus' exhausted eyes were explosive.

Harry held his breath, waiting for Severus to erupt.

After a long moment, Severus said, "If you believe this can be fixed, you're crazier than I am."

Harry watched as Severus pushed back his chair and left the table.

The exchange hadn't been exactly encouraging, but it was a damn sight less hostile than last night's encounter. He figured that had to count for something.

*~*~*

The next week or so was filled with similar, tense meals at which Hermione and he exhausted themselves attempting to draw Severus out of his shell. Harry tried to take comfort from the fact that Severus showed up in the Great Hall and didn't move his seat, but for all the response he gave to them, they might as well have been invisible. If pressed, Severus would give a monosyllabic answer, but mostly, he just sat there behind his wall of misery. Watching him disintegrate was killing Harry by slow degrees.

Even when he was trying to relax with Hermione and Ron, Severus was never far from his thoughts. For the last month, it had been anger keeping Severus there. Now it was a worry so sharp it had more the feel of fear to it.

Tonight they'd skipped their usual Friday night trip to Hogsmeade. The sky was still pissing down sleet, even though it was well into March, and Hermione had a headache. So, they were camped out in the Weasleys' sitting room.

Ron and he had a chessboard between them, but they were talking quidditch more than playing, while Hermione lay on an easy chair near the fire with her feet up on an ottoman.

"Krum's lost it," Ron lamented, his disappointment palpable as he took a sip of the beer sitting beside the chess pieces he'd won.

"Oh, I don't know," Harry countered. "I think he's still got a few good years in him."

"You always say that when they're over the hill," Ron said.

"He's not even thirty. He's just having a bad year. Everyone does now and then," Harry said.

"You never did," Ron protested.

"I only played for four years, Ron. Viktor's been playing since we were thirteen. Think about how long a time that is," Harry said. "That's half our lives. Anyone playing that long is bound to have a bad season every now and then."

"I guess. It's just -" Ron's words stopped abruptly. "Excuse me a minute."

Harry grinned as Ron hurried to the loo. Rising to his feet, he stretched and said to Hermione, "He never changes. Always waits till the last minute to do everything."

"Not everything, Harry," Hermione said in a silky tone.

Chuckling, Harry crossed to the window, staring out at the sleety night. The winds were high and gusting. As he stood looking out the bevelled casement, a shower of sleet bounced off the glass as if aimed at him.

His gaze was drawn to the lake. It looked like a pool of churning ink under the winds. Everything out there was shades of black. The Forbidden Forest was a line of thick shadows around the lake. The tiny islands dotting the lake's surface were barely visible in this light. The nearest shore was a lighter band of black. Harry could just make out the standing stone at his favourite spot.

His gaze sharpened as he stared at the stone. Normally, it stood pretty much by itself on the shore with a couple of smaller boulders and small trees nearby. But, looking now, Harry could make out another slender, tall silhouette beside the menhir. What . . . ?

It took him a minute to determine that the other figure beside the standing stone was a person, a very tall, whip-thin person. His blood froze with recognition as he saw the man's robes flapping in the high winds like an agitated raven's wings. Severus.

The wind chill out there was brutal. There were warming and rain-deflection spells that would ward off the worst of the weather, but Harry knew that Severus was so out of it these days that he wouldn't have thought to employ them. Stars knew how long he'd been standing out there.

Thinking back, Harry thought that he remembered seeing Severus walking towards the main doors after dinner, which was over two hours ago. Surely, the man couldn't have been standing out there on the lake bank in that raging storm all this time?

"What is it?" Hermione asked, no doubt alarmed by whatever his face was revealing as he turned back into the room.

"Severus is out there," Harry said. "Standing on the lake bank."

"What?" She appeared as worried as he felt.

"I've got to -" he said, already heading for the door.

"Yes, of course. Go," Hermione urged.

Ron returned from the loo just as Harry reached the front door. His, "Hey, what's going on?" was ringing through the room as the door closed behind Harry.

Harry raced down the empty stairs, running as if a werewolf were on his trail. He opened the towering doors and shot out into the storm.

The freezing sleet pelted against his skin. Harry quickly raised a deflection charm and hurried towards the lake as fast as the slippery ground would allow. Everything was coated in a thin, deadly layer of ice. The trees shone like diamonds as he rushed past them.

Even at top speed, it took more than ten minutes to reach the lake bank. The trail was treacherous. What wasn't ice was slippery mud. It was all he could do to keep his footing as he made his way to the menhir. The winds were stronger here in the open over the water. They ripped at him like harpies, trying to topple him into the wildly churning water.

Finally, Harry reached the standing stone.

Severus was there between the menhir and the boulder Hedwig loved to sit on when they were out here. He was looking out over the lake and didn't even seem to notice his arrival. What with the way the winds were howling around them, that was hardly surprising. Even so, Harry had the feeling that Severus' reaction would have been the same if they'd been in the Great Hall.

Harry shivered as he took in Severus' state. His hair was a slick black mess against his head and cheeks. The ice that had cloaked the trees was glittering on Severus' hair and the shoulders of his cloak, he realized with horror. His friend's skin was bright red, his clothes soaked through and clinging to him.

Staring at the waterlogged robes, Harry couldn't help but notice how frightfully thin Severus had become. The man had barely eaten or slept in months. There wasn't much left of him. Taking in the drenched figure, he knew that if someone didn't intervene soon, Severus wouldn't be long for this world.

He wasn't sure how to proceed now that he was here. As much as he wanted to chastise Severus for doing something this reckless, instinct told him that wasn't the way to proceed. Severus had warned him last week that he had little control over his actions. This behaviour was hardly what anyone would call sane. Berating Severus wasn't going to do anything but alienate him at this point.

At a loss as to what to say, Harry stepped up to Severus and laid his hand on his arm. It was like touching one of those ice-lined trees.

Severus started as if he still hadn't seen him. The tormented eyes that turned his way were confused. Harry had the feeling that Severus mightn't have been aware of his physical state until the moment he touched him.

"It's time to go in now," Harry said, shouting to be heard over the winds.

Severus looked around, as if bewildered to find himself on the storm-battered shore. Then he gave a slow nod.

Not letting go of Severus' arm, Harry guided him back up the trail towards the castle. As soon as he was certain Severus wasn't going to bolt, he extended the deflection charm that was keeping the rain off him to cover Severus as well and performed a quick drying spell on his companion's hair and clothes.

Severus followed him almost docilely back to the school, slip-sliding along at his side without question or protest. It seemed to take forever to get back to Hogwarts, but they made it without any major spills.

Once inside the castle's huge doors, Harry debated on where to take Severus. He wanted to bring him up to the warmth and light of Gryffindor Tower, but he knew that Severus wasn't up to company at the present moment. Severus didn't like to be fussed over under the best of circumstances. Tonight, the inevitable reaction to his state might shatter him. He'd never seen Severus this . . . fragile. His ex-lover was clearly hanging on to sanity by a very thin thread.

If he hadn't lost his hold completely, Harry amended. Not even he was optimistic enough to argue that what Severus had been doing a few moments ago was sane.

Unwilling to inflict the inevitable scene upon Severus that bringing him to his rooms would entail, Harry headed them towards the dungeons. The fact that Severus didn't tell him to shove off was in no way reassuring. He knew if Severus were himself, he would have been insisting they part ways at the top of the stairs.

Harry paused outside Severus' quarters. It had been more than two months since he'd been sleeping down here. He knew that Severus would have changed the password to his wards long ago.

He looked expectantly up at Severus, waiting for him to supply the new password, but Severus was still staring off into space most alarmingly.

Taking a deep breath, Harry whispered January's password, certain that nothing would happen.

To his utter astonishment, the door swung obligingly open.

Severus hadn't changed the wards when they'd broken up?

Startled by that oversight, he hustled Severus into the room. He wasn't expecting the nostalgia that stabbed through him at the first sight of Severus quarters.

A thought lit the fire in the hearth and the wall sconces. Even with the addition of light and heat, the sitting room was still horribly damp and cold.

As soon as they were through the door, Harry removed Severus' winter cloak and hung both their outer garments on the pegs by the door.

Although he'd employed a drying charm on Severus' clothes down by the lake, Harry knew hypothermia was still a very real concern.

"I'm going to transfigure a cardy for you, so don't be startled," Harry warned. The black wool cardigan materialized between Severus' heavy brocade jacket and waistcoat. To play it safe, he also transfigured Severus' socks into fresh wool ones, although, since Severus was still wearing his boots, he couldn't see the results of his efforts.

Severus' complete lack of a reaction was alarming.

Harry levitated the familiar blue blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around Severus' shoulders before leading him to the couch. Sitting his unresponsive companion down at the end of the couch nearest the blazing hearth, he turned to summon tea. He prepared a mug to Severus' liking and then placed it between his companion's red-skinned, still-freezing hands.

"Drink it," Harry softly ordered.

Part of him was afraid that Severus was so out of it that he wouldn't respond. He knew everyone would be insisting on St. Mungo's were that to happen. There were already far too many comments that Severus wasn't fit to be teaching being dropped in the staffroom.

To his eternal relief, Severus did respond. He looked down at the cup, as if startled to find it in his hands, before taking a deep sip of it.

Harry used his magic to prepare himself a mug before taking a seat beside Severus. He had no idea what he should say. There wasn't anything that came to mind that wouldn't openly question Severus' sanity.

The uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Harry couldn't help but wonder if Severus were even aware of the tension or if he were off lost in his dark thoughts again.

He jumped when Severus' voice shattered the silence several minutes later.

"I suppose you want to know what I was doing out there," Severus said, his tone as brittle as his controls appeared to be.

Trying to keep things light, Harry replied as mildly as he could, "If you want to tell me."

"Sometimes, if I'm out in the cold long enough, I can sleep when I return to my quarters," Severus said. "I . . . didn't notice how bad the storm had become."

Harry refrained from questioning that last remark. He could tell how unnerved Severus was at having been that oblivious to his surroundings.

"Do you think I'm insane?" Severus asked into the quiet a few minutes later, his dark gaze fixed on the fire dancing in the hearth a few feet away.

Harry took a deep breath and answered, "I think you're exhausted. When's the last time you got any sleep?"

He could tell that he'd startled Severus, who was obviously braced for a condemnation of his shaky sanity.

After a moment, Severus answered, "Two days ago, I slept for three hours."

Harry hadn't gotten much more sleep himself, but he wasn't wrestling the kinds of monsters Severus was.

"You're not insane," Harry said, "but you will be if you don't get some rest."

"It isn't as if I haven't tried," Severus snapped, swinging around to face him. "The dreams come whenever I sleep. I can't take the Dreamless Sleep potion anymore. I can't . . . ."

Harry could hear the enormity of the problem in the way Severus' voice trailed off. He experienced a sympathetic burst of hopelessness in reaction to Severus' obvious despair. He knew what it was like when there was no rest to be had, no matter how long he walked or how hard he exerted himself. He'd lived in a similar state of desperation for years before Severus had cured his night terrors.

His tired mind stopped on that thought and stared at it. Severus had cured his nightmares.

Maybe he could help Severus the way Severus had helped him. He knew that Severus would balk at any mental contact, but there were other ways of controlling reactions besides telepathy.

"I know," Harry soothed. "You've done everything you can. Do you think you're ready to let someone help you?"

"You mean St. Mungo's." Severus said. Although he was obviously trying to hide it as best he could, Harry could hear the fear in his voice. "Minerva suggested that very option this afternoon. Apparently, I am unfit to be teaching at the present moment."

"She what?" Harry asked, protective anger blazing through him. Teaching was the only thing keeping Severus going. The last thing he needed right now was to be told he was unfit. With the prospect of losing his job and a stay for an undisclosed amount of time in St. Mungo's less than hospitable care, was it any surprise that Severus had been standing out there on the lakeshore? The only real miracle was that he hadn't jumped in.

"She . . . is concerned. I'm not improving and . . . . "

Recognizing that his anger wasn't going to help anything, Harry did his best to push it aside. "Ssssh. I wasn't suggesting St. Mungo's. No matter what happens, you're not going there. I promise. So stop worrying about that."

This was obviously the heart of Severus' current crisis, for he didn't seem to even hear his reassurances. Sounding completely desperate, Severus continued, "I have no home other than Hogwarts. If I am discharged and deemed incompetent -"

"No one's judging you incompetent," Harry insisted. "If worse comes to worst, and they want you to leave, we'll get a place together until you're well enough to teach again. St. Mungo's is not an option, so stop worrying about it. Please."

"Why should you concern yourself in any of this?" Severus asked, that frightened edge in his voice no longer underplayed. "After what I did to you, you should be rejoicing in my downfall."

"This isn't your downfall," Harry quickly countered. "You're just upset, with good reason."

"Why are you being so . . . kind to me? I don't understand this. Unless it's escaped your memory, I violated the integrity of your mind and erased your memories," Severus said. "I don't know what you're doing here. You should be cheering my mental collapse -"

"I could never be happy about anything bad happening to you," Harry insisted. "And you aren't going to collapse. You're going to rest and get better. I'm going to talk to Minerva in the morning and we're not going to worry about St. Mungo's, okay?"

"Why should you care? This isn't your problem anymore, Potter. After what I did to you . . . ." The words faded into a dispirited silence.

Seeing how utterly overwhelmed Severus was by the events that had separated them, Harry said, "You weren't yourself when you messed with my memories. I was pushing you too hard that night, and you defended yourself from the pressure the only way possible. I'm here because none of this is your fault. You didn't ask to be kidnapped and tortured. After what you went through, it's amazing that you're as functional as you are. Anyone else would have died in Burke's keep, but you were strong and you held on. Anyone else would have been insane after that kind of torture, but you managed to stay sane. Yes, you're having problems now, but who wouldn't after everything you went through? You got through the rest, you'll get through this."

"How?" Severus whispered, continuing in a shaky voice. "I can't sleep. I can't think straight. Minerva is right. I'm cracking up."

"No. You're just at the end of your limits. Who could go without sleep as long as you have? Of course, you can't think straight right now. You're overtired, depressed, and under too much pressure. Once you've had some rest and a few good meals, things won't look so bleak."

The sour expression Severus turned on him sneered louder than any words. After a minute, Severus said, "If I were in my right mind, I'd curse you for that idiotic statement."

Harry found a smile for that show of spirit. "Good thing for me that neither of us is in his right mind at the moment. I'm not just talking through my hat here. I have an idea that might help."

Severus' expression made it clear how hopeless he thought the situation. Still, he asked, "What idea?"

"We've . . . been through some rough times these last few months," Harry said. "Do you still trust me?"

Harry braced himself for a negative answer. He knew how suspicious Severus was at the best of times. Under this kind of strain, there was no telling what level his paranoia would take.

The silence that followed seemed to take centuries to creep by. Finally, Severus broke it with a soft, "Yes. I don't understand it, but . . . you had every right to kill me for what I did to you and you haven't taken your revenge."

"Can we just forget about what you did that night for the time being?" Harry pleaded.

"How can I forget? I -"

"You were at your wit's end, and I pushed you. We'll talk about that when you're feeling better. Right now, let's concentrate on getting you some rest."

Severus was obviously too tired to argue. After a long pause, he said, "You said you had an idea."

"Yes. That's where the trust comes in. You helped me through my nightmares. I thought I might help you through yours."

Harry didn't have to be holding Severus to feel how his entire body tensed at the suggestion.

"You want to go into my mind and -"

"No," Harry interrupted before the panic in Severus' eyes could take hold. "I know that after what you went through with Burke, that any mental contact would be detrimental. That's not what I'm suggesting."

Severus made a visible effort to calm himself. After a couple of shaky-sounding breaths, he asked, "What are you suggesting then?"

"I think I can . . . use my magic to keep you in a state of sleep where the nightmares don't occur," Harry said.

"Use your magic?" Severus repeated as if he hadn't heard correctly.

Harry nodded. "After all those healings and the, um, what we used to do together, I, er, I'm pretty familiar with your system. I think I can keep your brain at a level of peaceful sleep. If nothing else, I can wake you up when you start to get agitated before the nightmare takes complete hold. What do you think?"

Harry knew how much he was asking here, the amount of faith involved. What he was proposing had never been done before. He mightn't be manipulating Severus' thoughts, but he was asking to be allowed to manipulate the energy which powered those thoughts. If he made a mistake in energy calculations, Severus would never know about it, because his brain would be fried. He could see every one of those thoughts passing through Severus' eyes.

Severus stared at him for a long time before softly answering, "I think that it will be an incredible imposition upon you."

"Let me worry about that, okay?" Harry pleaded. "Will you let me try?"

To his complete mystification, Severus gave a quick nod. Upon reflection, Harry realized that his speedy acceptance of the suggestion was probably an indication of how utterly desperate he was.

"How do you want to do this?" Severus questioned, visibly ill at ease.

He knew that Severus really had to be at the end of his rope to be so open to someone helping him. Thinking that Severus probably couldn't deal with much more stress, he met those purple-bagged, red-rimmed eyes. Reaching out his power, he embraced Severus with his magic.

If asked, he could never explain the process. In his mind, he always pictured it as the magical equivalent of hooking a Muggle video device to a telly. His magic plugged into Severus' system the way it had every night when they made love. He started feeding Severus his power and softly said, "Sleep, Severus."

He'd never done anything like this before. He wasn't even sure if it would work at the low level of power he sent into Severus. To his complete shock, Severus' eyes closed immediately and he slumped sideways on the couch as if hit with the Killing Curse.

Harry caught him before he fell all the way. Panicked at the thought of the Killing Curse, he quickly checked Severus' throat for a pulse. To his utter relief, he could feel the steady throb below Severus' still chilly skin.

Releasing a deep breath, Harry shifted Severus around until he was stretched out on the couch with his head pillowed in his lap. A thought removed Severus' shoes, jacket, and winter robes. Harry considered transforming Severus' shirt and trousers into his favourite night shirt, but then decided that that might be too huge a liberty. He manifested a couple more blankets, and levitated them until they were snug around Severus.

Sitting back against the couch, he stared down at Severus' ravaged, stark-featured face. Everything he'd endured in Burke's keep seemed to be etched into those hard lines and angles. Unable to stop himself, he stroked his fingertips across the still-chilly, wind-burned skin. He let his fingers slip into the dark hair he'd loved to play with.

Severus' hair wasn't as soft as he remembered it. In fact, it was a sticky, malodorous mess. Harry couldn't remember when he'd ever seen Severus' hair in this state. Now that he was this close, he couldn't help but notice that it had been some time since Severus had employed the cleansing charms he used to use several times a day. Severus had never been particularly regular about bathing, but he'd always been fastidiously clean. Getting a whiff of him, Harry began to understand why Minerva might have felt compelled to talk to Severus today.

It wasn't anything soap and water couldn't fix, he told himself, settling the fingers of his right hand to rest in the filthy hair. He reached out with his left for his tea mug and took a deep sip, relaxing into the comfortable corner of the couch.

He couldn't credit how good it felt to be back in this room with Severus, even if the circumstances weren't exactly what he would have wished for.

His magic was still flowing through Severus. It was more than a monitoring charm, but not quite an active spell. He could feel how terribly the exhausted man lying against him needed this sleep. Severus' body felt as if it were aching for rest.

His own wasn't much different, Harry acknowledged, recognizing how weary he was himself. Letting his eyes drift closed, he listened to the reassuring rhythm of Severus' breath and the cheerful crackling of the nearby fire.

An hour or so later, he felt the change in Severus' system. Forcing his eyes open, he stared down at Severus' emotion-wrenched face. The magic flowing into Severus told him the tumult Severus' nervous system was in. His companion was obviously caught in the grips of one of those horrific nightmares.

Still not entirely sure what he was doing, Harry upped the power flow to Severus. Instinct guiding him, he used his magic to force Severus' agitated system back into the peaceful rhythms that had defined his sleep earlier. He did everything he could to create a web of safety and protection around Severus. Ever so slowly, Severus' perturbed system settled back into easy slumber. Most importantly, Severus didn't awaken.

Harry watched the lines of strain ease from those harsh features as his magic derailed Severus' nightmare. When he was certain Severus was deeply and peacefully asleep again, he shifted down on the couch until its well-padded corner was supporting his head and drifted off again himself.

*~*~*