I'm not sure why this happened, but it did. I wrote it in English and have not yet translated it to American so please forgive any colloquialisms in the mean time.
Also, I know Dumbledore doesn't actually call Harry 'Mr Potter' but I needed some sort of separation in the way they were interacting and... it was the best I could do. Sorry.

"Explain."
Harry simply looked up in confusion from where he knelt on the cold dungeon floor. As he thought over the last few minutes however, he realised exactly what the potions master wanted an explanation for. Regardless, he stayed silent, eyes focussed on the stone at his feet.
"Potter, I asked you to explain."
"Explain wha-"
"Unless you are truly as imbecilic as you look Potter you know perfectly well what I would like you to explain and I do not appreciate your wasting my time. Explain the last memory I saw, Potter, who was that man?"
Shit. Harry realised there was no chance he could get out of it now. Not raising his eyes from where they fixed on the stone floor on which he had spent so many of these lessons already, Harry drew in a deep breath and answered quietly.
"Vernon Dursley, Sir."
Panic was beginning to well inside of him when he was greeted with silence, but he dared not look up to see the expression on Snape's face. He did not want to see the disgust that he was sure Snape would be feeling towards him. He did not want to see the euphoria that Snape was surely experiencing in the knowledge that somebody hated Harry even more than he.
"Your Uncle?" clarified Snape after a few moments, his tone expressionless.
"Yes, Sir."
Harry's head shot up a moment later when he heard a growl escape the man's lips. Snape looked furious, and Harry diverted his gaze once more so as not to anger him further.

Hands were fumbling at his belt. The vast presence of his uncle pressed against his back, one hand holding his neck forcefully against the mattress of the cot. Glasses pressing painfully into the side of his face where they were trapped against him. Pain. An unbearable searing pain as he was forced open. The belt falling across his scarred shoulders as he was rocked back and forth. Heavy, breathy grunts. His tears leaking onto the mattress. Then he was alone again as the bedroom door slammed.

Snape stood slowly from his stool and reached for a jar from one of the shelves behind his desk, passing it to Harry who looked up in confusion.
"Mr Potter, this is a healing salve which will help any- residual injuries-" at this he ground his teeth together before continuing "to heal properly and without infection. It will also aid to rid you of any lingering scars. It will not, however, work to rid you of any scars which have been magically inflicted or cursed." Snape looked Harry in the eye, before clarifying. "It can also be used on any internal injuries, should they be bothering you still."
Harry gaped. Snape was- helping? He wasn't being thrown from the office or mocked. No sneering or smirking or outright laughing? Utterly bewildered, Harry said nothing and continued to stare at the man, who seemed to be steeling himself for something.
"Harry," he began, and the look in Snape's eyes was so startling that Harry did not even realise that he had been called by his first name. It was a look something akin to concern. "Do you understand that I will have to report this to the headmaster and ask a few questions?"
Immediately, Harry was on guard again.
"No, Sir" he pleaded. "Please don't involve anybody sir, I won't ever tell I swear. I never have and I never will. Please just forget it, please." His eyes were wide and fearful.
"I must-" started Snape, but Harry interrupted with panic in his voice.
"Please, sir, he will kill me!"
"He absolutely will not, Mr Potter. I will not allow it. I am under oath to report any such abuse to the headmaster and therefore must do so. More so than this however, to not report such instances would require you to go back to their home and that is something I absolutely will not allow to happen. You therefore have two options. Firstly, you may tell me everything and I will bring it to the headmaster myself. The information will be passed to absolutely nobody else. The second option is for me to call the headmaster myself and you may answer his questions directly, with or without my presence. Rest assured should you chose this second option I will be recounting the memory I witnessed so as to ensure that you do not lie your way out of this. Which would you prefer?"
Snape's voice was stern, but not cold. Harry watched him carefully, still unsure as to what was happening.
"The headmaster knows, Sir."
Snape froze. Surely not. "He knows?"
"Yes, Sir."
"You have informed the headmaster of this on a previous occasion?"
"No, Sir, but my Hogwarts letter was addressed to my cupboard."
"What do you mean your cupboard, Potter?"
"The cupboard under the stairs, Sir. It was my bedroom until I started receiving my Hogwarts letters and that is where the letters were addressed to each time. Then I was moved to Dudley's second bedroom because they thought someone was watching us, Sir." Harry knew he shouldn't have added that last bit as soon as he saw Snape's jaw clench, but he tried nonetheless to keep his gaze steady.
Snape, however, was reeling. The cupboard under the stairs! And here he thought Potter had come to Hogwarts as spoiled and arrogant as his father. How had he missed the signs? They were surely there, he realised, the nibbling at meals and the flinching when loud noises sounded. Yet seemingly, for the last five years, Potter had managed to keep it quiet. Lord knows he hadn't helped the situation by telling the boy he was useless at every damn opportunity. Oblivious to the man's inner turmoil Harry continued.
"I'm sorry Sir, I won't say anything I swear. I realised that if Dumbledore knew about the cupboard and didn't see fit to intervene, he wouldn't care about the rest either. I know I must stay with Aunt Petunia because of the blood wards, Sir. I understand."
"Potter, I swear to you that the headmaster absolutely does not know about this. Those letters are addressed by each Head of House and I know for a fact that Professor Mcgonagall uses a self-addressing quill. Please believe that should we have known about the cupboard you would have been removed from the care of those imbeciles immediately following. I am sorry that you thought you had been left with such monsters knowingly and I assure you that this is not the case."
Now Harry was the one reeling. They hadn't known all this time? Professor Snape had just fucking apologised to him. Was he dreaming? If he was, what in the world had he taken before he fell asleep? Before he could begin to answer the questions that were swirling around in his mind, Snape was speaking again.
"As mentioned Potter, I need to inform the headmaster of what has been happening and one of us shall need to ask you the relevant questions. Would you prefer me to fetch him now?"
"Yes, Sir, please. But also- could you ask Professor Mcgonagall to be here as well? It's just that I know she will probably have to be told eventually and I really don't want to have to talk about it ever again after today if I can help it." Harry spoke quickly, willing himself to finish the request before he had chance to discourage himself.
"Of course, Mr Potter, if you are sure?" came Snape's questioning voice. Harry opened his mouth to respond, but faltered, so Snape continued. "Either myself or the headmaster can relay any relevant information to Professor Mcgonagall if you so wish Potter, she need not be in the room for this if you would prefer more privacy."
Harry took a breath then looked Snape in the eye once more. "Please, Sir, if not too much trouble I would prefer for her to also be here for this discussion."
"Very well," Snape responded, heading towards the fireplace. Throwing down some powder from a flower pot in the corner, he called "Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts." Pressing his face into the flames, he did not notice Harry moving to sit himself on the stool which had been occupied by the potions master earlier, nor the boy gripping his arms tightly and breathing quickly as panic settled into his veins once more. Harry knew that this was going to change an awful lot and, what was worse, he had no idea how everything would be changing once it did.
A few moments later, Harry looked up to see Professor Dumbledore stepping out of the fireplace, followed closely by Professor Mcgonagall. He sighed, time to face the music.

Snape looked to the boy as he pulled himself out of the fire, noticing the way he was holding himself as though desperately trying to force his body not to flee. He looked, Snape realised, not unlike himself when he himself had had this conversation with the headmaster all those years ago. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, he made his way across the office and pulled open a door to his living quarters.
"Mr Potter, if you could join us through this door when you are ready."
Harry looked up, surprised, and noticed a door open behind Snape's desk. A door, he noticed, that was hidden behind a bookshelf, which made sense as to why he had never noticed it before. He watched the three professors walking through, noting the confused expressions on two of their faces, then stood to follow. As he came through the door he noticing it shutting automatically behind him to show a large painting or Hogwarts castle and the grounds. In front of him were two black leather sofas and an armchair, each with a slytherin-green throw draped over the back. Harry couldn't help thinking that it looked almost too homely to belong to the potions master, but his anxiety over his current situation ceased any further dwelling on his surroundings. There were two doors and a small corridor to his left, and a magnificent fireplace opposite. Snape waved to the armchair, and sat himself down on one sofa next to Professor Mcgonagall who was still looking rather bewildered. Professor Dumbledore took the other sofa, and looked between Harry and Snape before breaking the uneasy silence.
"Would anybody like to explain why we are here?" Harry ducked his head, shook it and then looked resolutely at Snape who met his eyes in return.
"I shall explain in a moment headmaster, however first I must ask, Mr Potter, whether you would prefer me to leave once I have said my piece? You should know, I take no offence if this is the case."
Harry was a little surprised, but hid it and shook his head again. "Please stay," he whispered quietly, "I- I need you to stay."
"Very well," Snape nodded, ignoring the expressions on his colleague's faces which ranged between incredulity and concern. "I have asked you here because I have witnessed a memory during today's occlumency lesson which I find both concerning and downright harrowing. I am, in fact, furious at the extent of which I have witnessed and heard already."
Noticing the colour draining from Harry's face, he quickly added, "I am not angry with you in the least, Mr Potter." Harry, however, seemed not to be listening any longer. He had returned to his earlier stance, gripping his upper arms tightly, painfully, and his eyes were closed. Snape moved to kneel in front of the armchair, and placed a hand lightly on Harry's shoulder.
"Harry," he said softly, "I am not angry with you. You are safe here and nobody in this room will hurt you. Not ever, okay?"
Harry opened his eyes and focussed on Snape's face. It wasn't that he didn't believe him, but habit dictated that anger was usually directed towards Harry regardless of the cause, and knowing that he would soon be explaining what had brought them here was not a particularly comforting thought either. Harry let his chin fall in a slight nod and Snape stood, walking back to his seat.
"Severus, perhaps you would be so kind as to explain whatever it was you witnessed in this memory- which has obviously changed your relationship with Mr Potter so spectacularly." Professor Mcgonagall was staring at him with a mixture of pride and worry. It was obvious that she wasn't going to like what she was going to hear, but evidently it was important enough for Snape to drop the hatred of Harry completely.
"Rape," he spat. Snape stared at the floor as he spoke, determined not to show any emotion towards the situation lest he cause further upset. He couldn't help the anger that was bubbling inside of him though, spreading through his veins like fire and causing his muscles to clench. He felt nothing but hatred for the Dursleys, but he was afraid showing such hatred would make this more difficult for Harry so he said nothing more.
Professor Mcgonagall was not, however, so adept at hiding her feelings. She gasped loudly, then quickly stood and started towards Harry. Snape grabbed the back of her robes out of instinct, pulling her back towards the sofa where she fell indignantly.
"Severus what in the hell are you doing?" she bit out, ignoring his glare.
"Minerva calm yourself immediately," Snape commanded. "If you cannot do so I will recall this conversation to you at a later date but I will not have you making Mr Potter uncomfortable, do you hear me?"
Mcgonagall looked around, stunned, but paled when she noticed Harry who had sunk further into the chair and had wrapped his arms around his legs now resembling a small child.
"Mr Potter, I apologise. My reaction was inappropriate. I am not angry towards you, child, and Severus is correct. Nobody in this room will hurt you."
Harry looked up but his eyes passed Mcgonagall and fell onto Snape who nodded, shocked that Harry seemed to have deemed him as safe. Harry then looked to Mcgonagall and smiled kindly, before focussing his gaze on where Dumbledore was still sat silently looking at the boy with a tear running down his cheek. Taking in the surroundings, Snape realised that he would have to explain some more before Harry would be willing to say anything. Fingering the sleeve of his robes, he sat up a little straighter and began to explain what he had witnessed, his eyes fixed on Harry.
"During our lesson, I witnessed a memory of Mr Potter being held against a mattress by the neck as a man- as his uncle raped and whipped him. From what has been discussed since, I understand that this is not the only instance of abuse. Mr Potter was made to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs until the summer before he began school here and I believe that he also had to do all the cooking and cleaning for his family- though I admit Mr Potter has not told me this so much as I have put it together from other memories witnessed." The room was silent for a minute before Mcgonagall spoke.
"Why on earth did you not tell anybody sooner, Mr Potter?"
"He thought we knew." Snape explained. "The letter accepting him to Hogwarts was addressed to 'The Cupboard Under The Stairs' which was where he slept, though this seems to be what prompted his family-" Snape hissed at this, unable to keep the contempt from his voice, "to give him an actual bedroom finally. Since he thought we knew and did not care about the cupboard, he decided not to mention the- well, the rest."
Again, silence met the explanation. Snape kept his gaze on Harry who seemed to draw comfort from his silent support, because he finally turned to see how his other professors were taking the news. Mcgonagall was wide eyed and hurt looking, but seemed too shaky and unsure to say anything else. Dumbledore was now wiping a steady flow of tears from his face but still remained quiet. Looking back to Snape, Harry steeled himself and began to speak, pinching the skin at the top of his arm as he did so.
"They hated magic- hated me because I could do magic. When I started showing signs, though I didn't know what it was at the time, that is when the- when the beatings began. I have been doing all the chores since- before I can remember, I guess. I didn't understand why other than that I was a f- a freak. Then Hagrid came and told me about mum and dad and how- how they died. They told me that they had died in a car crash and that- that dad was a drunk. I never understood why I dreamt about a green light and a weird laugh until I realised that it was- him. Then when I came back after first ye- year, they locked everything in my old cupboard and that's when- when he- the first time. I thought you knew about the other stuff beca-because of the letter, y'know? I thought you didn't care and I learned- I learned the hard way not to fight him. I just- I thought- I-" Harry trailed off. He was still looking at Snape, who stared straight back at him. Weird, thought Harry, that I trust Snape more than anybody else, despite everything. Understanding shone in Snape's eyes, and- angry though he was- Harry could tell that it wasn't aimed at him. For the first time in a long time, he felt safe.
After a few minutes of quiet, as everyone digested the information, Dumbledore spoke. "What I would like to know is how this was the first memory of this type you have encountered, Severus, after almost three months of occlumency lessons."
Snape gaped at the headmaster. A student has been abused and you're worrying about Occlumency? Then he blinked, realising that the man had a point. He hadn't seen any other memories of abuse in the boy's mind prior to today. Yes, he had seen Potter cooking and cleaning, and once or twice he had come across a memory of him being yelled at for something or another, but he had never seen anything to indicate more than that. Turning, he looked at Harry, who had turned a little pink.
"I uh- I really didn't want you to see anything like that so I- well, I hid it. I've just been having so many nightmares that I didn't have the energy to keep the shields up. I couldn't exactly tell you that I had managed it though, Sir, so I just let you think I was awful until I could hide more."
Snape was astounded. "You just- hid it?"
"Yeah well, I started out just throwing memories forward so you didn't see the ones about my family, and I didn't ever have the control to figure what I was showing. Then after a while I noticed that if I pictured a library I could hide certain memories behind a rope, almost like the restricted section. I couldn't put everything back there, else you would have noticed. I can't clear my mind for love nor money, but I can organise it." Harry pondered the thought for a moment, then added- "Hermione would be delighted."
Professor Mcgonagall actually cracked a smile. "Very impressive Potter, even more so that Professor Snape did not realise you were doing it, but if we could get back to the matter at hand for a few more moments please, Albus."
"Of course," said Dumbledore, "my apologies. First and foremost, Mr Potter, I must apologise for allowing you to believe that we were aware of what was happening, and also for not having noticed that anything was amis on any previous occasion. You will not, under any circumstances, be going back to the Dursleys' residence on Privet Drive. This does, of course, leave us in a slight predicament as to where you may go in the summers, since we must ensure that you are safe, however we will look into this for you and will speak to you before any such decisions are made. Would you be willing for us to use the memory that Professor Snape witnessed along with the memory of this conversation so as to ensure that the Dursley's are- ahem, correctly reprimanded?"
Harry's eyes widened, and he shrunk backwards again beginning to shake his head, but Snape spoke up. "Harry, this is your decision, but the only person who would see those memories if you consent is the trial judge. I believe you are familiar with Madame Bones? She has expertise across a number of departments. I have worked with her before on similar cases and trust her implicitly. Should you wish to press charges, I can guarantee her confidence."
"Okay-" agreed Harry. "I- yeah, I consent."
Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you. The last thing is the examination. Due to the nature of some of the abuse, Mr Potter, it is required that you undergo a thorough examination. This is both to ensure that there is no lasting damage and also because any evidence garnered can be used in trial if you want it to. The examination will, however, have to be carried out by a trained medi-witch or medi-wizard."
"No."
Dumbledore looked up in shock, not having expected such a forceful response. He threw a questioning glance at the boy, who responded with a glare of his own.
"Absolutely not. I don't want one. I like Madame Pomfrey, headmaster, but I won't let her do it." Harry's breathing was quickening and becoming shallow, but he refused to let anybody outside of this room know of what had happened, save for Madame Bones. In his panic, Harry didn't notice Snape kneeling in front of him until his hand was lifted from where it was clutching at his elbow and placed on Snape's own chest.
"Feel my breathing, Harry, that's it. In. Out. In. Out. Nice and slow. You're safe. Nobody is going to force you to do anything. Out. In. Out. There we go."
Harry was still shaking, but he could hear the soothing baritone of his professor as he was assured of his safety. Slowly, he returned his breathing to a normal speed and let his hand drop from Snape's chest, noticing that the man's grip did not release him completely, instead remaining firm against his wrist. Glancing at his professor, Harry was surprised at the obvious concern and care on the man's face, but even more so at his next words.
"Would you feel more comfortable if I were to carry out the examination, Harry?" Snape asked kindly, moving backwards slightly so he could view his reaction more clearly.
Professor Mcgonagall looked on in astonishment as she realised how much Harry had come to trust Snape in the course of one afternoon. She watched as the boy nodded, shyly but with obvious determination, as the potions master sighed in relief and smiled at the young lad, as the headmaster wiped away yet more tears and as Harry, finally, smiled. Deciding that she had probably heard everything that needed to be heard, she stood.
"I must be getting back, there are a few things which require my attention. Mr Potter, should you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask. I should be in my quarters, but if not the portrait of Emmeline Tiss should be able to find me or whoever you require. She is the lady in pink to the right of the archway which leads to the girls' dorms." She turned and walked to the doorway furthest from the one through which they had entered, before turning back. "And, Mr Potter, I am truly sorry. I should have been there for you from the beginning and, evidently, I have not been. I hope that I can one day make it up to you." Without waiting for an answer, she was gone.
Dumbledore stood next, straightening his robes. "I, too, must apologise. We should have done more for you, Mr Potter." He looked down at Snape, who was still knelt on the floor in front of his student, their hands clasped. "Please send the memories and results to my office at Harry's convenience, Severus, and I shall contact Madame Bones to ascertain when she is next available. I will determine a suitable guardian as well, I think possibly Remus if he believes himself capable."
"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry's voice was shaky, showing his nerves, but he held the headmaster's gaze. "If- If not, I mean if Remus can't legally or if he- if he won't. Who else? I know Sirius can't and I don't want him to know about this, but Mr and Mrs Weasley have so many children to care for and they don't have the money and most of the order members are far too busy and I- I don't want to inconvenience anybody but I don't wa-want to be sent back to the Dursleys' if there isn't anybody to take me. I'm sorry I- If they know I told-"
"Harry I promise you, there is not a chance in the world that you will be going back to that place. I will adopt you myself if necessary to keep you safe. Having said that, if you think the wol- if you think Remus wouldn't agree to take you in before we had even finished the question you severely underestimate the love that he has for you. He would have been named godfather were it not illegal when you were born, your mother told me."
Harry was staring at Snape in shock. That sounded- surely Severus Snape did not just agree to adopt him if needed? And his mother had spoken to him about godfathers? What in the world? Snape seemed to misinterpret the look that Harry was giving him, however, because he continued. "I may not like the- the man, but even I can see that he cares about you deeply, Harry."
Dumbledore chuckled, and placed his hand on the doorknob. "Severus, I think the boy is more shocked at the part of that spiel in which you agreed to take care of him and that you had a relationship with his mother. Maybe some explanation is required on those fronts."
Snape looked up to the headmaster, but only saw his robes disappearing around the doorframe as it closed behind him. "Wimp," he muttered. Then looking up at Harry's face, which had not changed from immense shock, he sighed and stood up to walk back to his chair. "Explanations, okay, can I get you a drink first? I certainly bloody need one."

As Snape poured himself a tall glass of firewhiskey, he could feel Harry's gaze on his back. Smiling to himself at the absurdity of the situation, he called over his shoulder. "What can I get you? It's a nice bottle of Ogden's, but I think I have some Nettle Wine if you prefer. Or of course, I can call down to the kitchens for some pumpkin juice or-"
Harry's laugh cut him off. "Firewhiskey would be fine, Sir, thank you."
Shaking his head slightly, he poured a second glass and resealed the bottle, spelling the glassed to keep refilling. It dawned on him how utterly bizarre it was to be drinking firewhiskey in his living room with Harry Potter and laughing. Almost more surprising was how easy he had found it to drop the hatred of the boy as soon as necessary and to focus instead on helping him. He thought briefly, that Lily would have been proud. On that note, however, he realised how Lily would have been rolling in her grave at the treatment her boy had faced- and nobody had even noticed to help him! Ashamed, he did not look up as he handed Harry his glass. When did he become just Harry thought Snape.
"So, you knew my mother."
"I did. Very well, in fact. I also, regrettably, knew your aunt- though we despised each other at first sight."
Harry pondered this for a moment, biting his lower lip. Then- "Do you think- Could you tell me about mum?"
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything." Snape laughed, and Harry was surprised to find that he quite liked the sound. It was comforting and, after today, he could do with a little comfort. Taking his first sip of firewhiskey he winced slightly, but quite enjoyed the flavour so took another as he watched Snape pondering his response.
"When I was a child, I lived in the same village as your mum. The first time I saw her, I thought she was the prettiest girl in the world. I lived in a house just around the corner from the park and from my bedroom window I could see the swingset. Your mum and Petunia, they used to spend hours pushing one another on the swings. I still don't know why, because they could both swing perfectly well on their own, but they seemed to prefer it this way and as children Lily and Petunia were- close." Snape paused to take another swig of firewhiskey, frowning slightly. "Lily was on the swings one day and I saw her jump from right at the top- awfully high. I think my heart stopped, I was so sure she was going to get hurt, but she just floated back down to the ground. That was the day I realised she was a witch and decided I should say hello. I spent more time watching her from then on, noticing small instances of accidental magic, but it wasn't accidental because she was completely in control. It was- it was beautiful. I approached her one day when we were nine, finally decided to tell her that I was magic too and I called her a witch. She threw a stick at me and ran off, Petunia hot on her heels. They were so protective of one another. A few days later I saw her again and apologised, explained what I meant and, suddenly, we were best friends. Petunia hated me, had already decided that she hated magic, but I think she was jealous that I was spending so much time with her sister all of a sudden, because she didn't seem to spend time with anyone else. I had stolen her best friend, but I didn't really care. I had never had a friend before-"
Harry watched as Snape's eyes clouded up, as though he were holding back tears. Harry knew that feeling well. Of course, before coming to Hogwarts, Dudley had scared away anybody who ever seemed interested in being his friend. Loneliness was all-consuming.
"When we got our Hogwarts letters, we went to Diagon Alley together. Me and your mother and my mother. Sat outside Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour in the sun for two hours once we had finished our shopping, just talking about how excited we were to come to school. I knew, even then, that this school would drive us apart. My mother had been in slytherin and I knew enough about the houses to know I wasn't brave enough for Gryffindor or smart enough for Ravenclaw, but your mother was both of those things and far too kind for Slytherin. I knew we were going to get split up- but I didn't realise how hard your mother was going to fight to keep us together as friends. Lily was unfathomably kind. She defended me when I was being bullied by the other gryffindors and hexed in the hallways, she healed me when I- when I was beaten by my own father."
Snape glanced at Harry, whose expression did not change despite the jolt of shock which ran through him at this news. "Your mother would have marched down to your aunt and uncle's house with a shotgun and a pair or wire cutters if she knew how they have treated you Harry. She would have done away with them in the most painful and time consuming manner available, in fact she wouldn't have even used magic. She loved you more than anything in the world. I may have hated your father, but he loved you as well. They would have done anything for you. Anything at all. I'm sorry you never got to meet them."
By this point, Snape was starting to realise that he was a little drunk, but he knew that if he took a potion to sober up now he would never have the courage to say what he needed to. Harry needed to know.
"Harry, I- I know you hated me because of how I treated you and I'm so sorry. I thought you would be just as spoiled and arrogant as your father and I truly did loathe him, so I treated you accordingly. Really though, you have more right to hate me than anyone in the world and- and I need to tell you why."
Harry was a little confused, but nodded for his professor to carry on. Taking another sip of firewhiskey- for he had a feeling he wasn't going to like whatever Snape was about to tell him- Harry settled further back in his chair.
"Have they told you what the order is guarding?"
The question shocked Harry, who shook his head. He noticed that Snape seemed to be struggling to make words come out of his mouth, but he was sure it wasn't because of the alcohol which was now sat on the table next to him.
"Right- Of course, no. In which case, Harry, I need you to promise that no matter how much you may hate me this evening- this conversation must stay between us and the headmaster?" Harry nodded, eyes squinting in concern. "Okay- Right." Snape seemed to be having trouble, but as he reached for the firewhiskey again Harry spoke up.
"Sir, maybe you could tell me before you become even more incoherent? Please?"
Snape choked out a laugh, but left the glass where it was. "Yeah, yes, sure. I'm sorry. Well, the Dark Lord is after a prophecy. It is in the Department of Mysteries, as you know thanks to those corridor dreams, which the Order is guarding. The prophecy was made fifteen years ago during a job interview at the Hog's Head. Albus' brother is the bartender there and so it is generally safe from- unwanted attention. That is to say, Aberforth doesn't let anybody upstairs so the risk of being overheard is slim. A death eater had been sent to the school in order to spy for the Dark Lord and overheard the first half of the prophecy, which he reported back to his master without realising the implications of his actions. The prophecy spoke of a boy born at the end of July who would have the power to overthrow the Dark Lord, but they were not aware of the end of the prophecy, so the Dark Lord marked his equal and set out to destroy him." Snape looked haunted, and Harry could see the regret and fear in his eyes. He could tell where the story was going, but said nothing and waited for Snape to continue. "I told him what I heard and he went after the woman I loved. I begged him not to, to go for the other boy that the prophecy could have been referring to, but he laughed and told me that I would move on. He wanted her son dead and for that, I knew she would die too. Never would she allow somebody to hurt her son while she stood aside. So I went to Dumbledore. I begged him to help her, to protect her. I told him everything in the hopes that he would do something. So she went into hiding with her family and Dumbledore's help, but they put their faith in the wrong man, and he sold them out."
Harry could see the tears streaming down Snape's face but still said nothing, knowing that the man needed to keep talking to ease his pain a little. Surprisingly, Harry found that he didn't blame Snape, or hate him, at all. It was, after all, Wormtail who had sold them out. His parents would have kept fighting for years if they could but he knew they could have been killed in battle even earlier if not for Snape going to Dumbledore. It was the fault of Voldemort and Wormtail, not Snape.
"I'm so sorry Harry. I told that bastard about the prophecy and killed the woman I loved. I didn't even ask Dumbledore to keep you and your father safe, just Lily, but now they're both dead and I- I'm so sorry." Snape curled up in a ball on the sofa with his head in his hands, sobbing. It was unnerving, thought Harry, to see a man so strong lose himself so completely. Pulling out his wand, he tried summoning a sobriety potion from the cabinet in the corner. He was a little surprised but mostly relieved when a small bottle with a pale pink potion inside flew towards him. The bottle was labelled with the words 'Facti Sumus'.
"Professor," he stood in front of the crying man and placed a hand comfortingly on his shoulder, copying the man's actions from earlier in the evening. "Professor, it isn't your fault. They were fighting in the war and nobody lives forever. You went to Dumbledore, you asked for help for her, you tried. You weren't the one to hand over their location to Voldemort and you didn't throw the curse, so you weren't the one at fault. Okay?"
Harry noted that Snape had flinched at Voldemort's name, which at least proved he was still somewhat aware of his surroundings. "Please, Sir," Harry pleaded. "Is this the potion for Sobriety? Facti Sumus? Or would you prefer a calming draught?"
Snape looked at the boy in shock, then took the vial out of his hands swallowing it in one. Then he sat up and motioned for Harry to join him on the couch- now that he wasn't lying across it. There were still tears running down his face, but he wiped at his cheeks and tried to look a little more put together than he was acting. Harry, however, seemed to be simply laughing at his efforts.
"You know, I can still put you in detention for laughing at a professor," he grumbled, summoning a dreamless sleep potion non-verbally.
Harry laughed lightly, "Well, that potion certainly works fast."
"Git."
"Hey now, that's my name for you Sir, not the other way around." Snape barked out a laugh, and Harry continued with a cheeky grin. "Anyway, I thought it was meant to be you comforting me this evening, not the other way 'round."
"Yeah, right." Snape was quiet for a moment, observing the boy. "I know I was drunk when I said it, but I truly am sorry, Harry. For whatever part I played in the death of your parents, for not being there when you needed somebody to notice something was wrong, Merlin, I'm sorry for being part of the problem. I think I took it for granted that I had reformed since my Death Eater days, and I didn't protect you the way I should have. For what it's worth, your mother would have hexed me to oblivion if she ever saw me treating you the way that I have. You are so much like her, it hurts to look at you sometimes."
"I forgive you, sir, but you should really forgive yourself."
Snape looked at the boy incredulously. "So much like her," he muttered, shaking his head with a snort.
"Thanks, Sir. I think that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me."
"Probably. Anyway, here," Snape responded, handing the vial in his hand to Harry. "It's Dreamless Sleep, because after occlumency and this evening's conversations I figure you will need it. You can stay in the guest room if you don't want to explain to your housemates where you have been, or you can floo up to the dormitories, I don't mind. Send a patronus if you need anything. Alright?"
"Can I stay here, Sir, please?"
"Of course, the guest room is set up anyway. That one is you-" Snape pointed at the door next to where Mcgonagall and Dumbledore had vanished earlier, "and I am the first door on the left down that corridor. Bathroom is opposite me, first on the right. Drink the whole vial, and Harry-"
"Yes?"
"It's been an eventful evening. I think we may have both witnessed enough vulnerability that you may call me by my name when we are alone- okay?"
Harry threw back his head in a laugh, as he opened the door Snape had indicated.
"Of course, Severus," he drawled. "And, um- thank you."
Snape smiled, "Goodnight, Harry."
"Goodnight, Severus."